The Second Seal

by Dennis Wheatley

  Sir Henry and Sir Bindon had taken their departure in a far from happy frame of mind. Both had long been accustomed to observing the strictest secrecy in all that concerned their work, and they did not at all fancy the idea of discussing future strategy and diplomacy with a foreign-born soldier of fortune. Nevertheless, they both had great faith in Sir Pellinore’s judgment, and knew that he owed his unique position behind the scenes of government largely to the fact that he never even hinted at the existence of secret matters, unless he had excellent cause to do so.

  In consequence they had come to to-day’s lunch party still inclined to exercise great caution, but with open minds. Then, as the meeting had progressed, those quick minds of theirs had moved forward to the same conclusion. Sir Pellinore was right; de Richleau was a man who might render incalculably valuable services to Britain if he were properly briefed. It was, therefore, their duty, short of disclosing vital secrets, to take him into their confidence.

  One quick glance between Sir Bindon and the General was enough to assure the diplomat that they were in agreement. Then he said:

  “Very well, Duke. What do you wish to know?”

  “First, the probable line-up.”

  “If Serbia sets the ball rolling, as you suggest, it will be Serbia, Russia, and the Empires of France and Britain against Austria-Hungary and Germany.”

  “What about Italy?”

  “As the third partner in the Triple Alliance the Germans are no doubt counting on her; but a secret clause in her treaty with the Central Powers releases her from any obligation to enter a war against Great Britain, and we think she will invoke it. Owing to her ambitions in the Trentino and Trieste area, she may later even come in on our side, if we play our cards skilfully.”

  “And the smaller countries?”

  “The probability is that, with the exception of Belgium, they will stay out unless the struggle is a prolonged one.”

  “It will be,” grunted the General.

  “In that case, Bulgaria, Rumania, Greece and Turkey will probably be drawn in. Each has its pro-Entente and pro-German parties; so the side each takes will be determined by the apparent prospects of victory of one or other of the great combinations at the time that circumstances decide them to enter the conflict.”

  “You mentioned Belgium as an exception?”

  “Yes. We have reason to believe that, instead of attempting to force the great fortress system that guards the Franco-German frontier, the Germans intend to adopt the Schlieffen Plan. That involves the infringement of Belgian neutrality; and, of course, as Britain is one of the signatories of the Treaty of London, guaranteeing Belgium neutrality; such an act would commit us to sending an ultimatum to Germany, quite apart from any obligation we may have to aid France.”

  De Richleau turned towards the General. “How many divisions do you estimate that Germany will be able to put in the field for the opening phase?”

  “When her mobilisation is completed, one hundred and ten,” replied Sir Henry promptly.

  “And France?”

  “Eighty-five.”

  “However, the French have only one frontier to defend, whereas Germany has two. That should even matters up as far as the Western Front is concerned.”

  With a quick movement, Sir Henry knocked the ash off his cigar. “Sir Bindon has just mentioned the Schlieffen Plan. As a military man, Duke, you will no doubt have heard of that plan and be aware of its broad outline?”

  “Yes. Its essence is the immediate concentration of all available forces in the West; then a gigantic turning movement for the invasion of France by way of Belgium.”

  “Exactly! Field Marshal Count von Schlieffen was completely ruthless and entirely logical. He said that, even if Russia unexpectedly declared war and her cavalry overran the provinces of northern Germany, even if the French took the offensive and penetrated deep into Alsace-Lorraine, even if the invasion of Belgium meant Britain going to France’s assistance—all these liabilities must be accepted in order to bring overwhelming force against the French Army, and put France out of the war in six weeks. However, now that Russia is definitely committed to declare war immediately France does so, Germany cannot possibly leave her northern frontier entirely undefended; but we believe she will adopt a modification of the Schlieffen plan. Our estimate is that the Germans will leave one-fifth of their forces to defend their Russian frontier and concentrate the other four-fifths against France.”

  “If you are right eighty-eight German divisions will be opposed to eighty-five French. That is not overwhelming force.”

  “The Germans may achieve it in the vital sector.”

  “Why?”

  “According to the Schlieffen plan, less than a third of the German forces are to be disposed along the Franco-German frontier. The key Belgium fortress of Liége is to be seized by a coup-de-main immediately the order for mobilisation is given. Immediately the five railways radiating from it are under German control, the greater part of the German Army is to debouch through Belgium and, in a scythe-like movement, descend on Paris. Therefore, should the French forces be more or less evenly distributed, they will find themselves outnumbered by about three to one at the western end of their line.”

  “Knowing this, surely the French will take the precaution to guard against such an eventuality, by concentrating a large part of their army in the neighbourhood of Amiens?”

  The General hesitated a second, then he said: “You will appreciate that I cannot give you any definite information about the plans of the French General Staff. On the other hand, I do not wish to mislead you as to possibilities. Both France and Germany will require several weeks to complete their mobilisation; but, owing to various factors, there will be a period between the ninth and the thirteenth day after the order for mobilisation has been issued, when the French will have been able to assemble a greater concentration of forces in the battle area than the Germans. Certain French Generals have always urged that during this favourable period France should seize the initiative and launch a full-scale offensive against Alsace-Lorraine. Should they adopt that strategy, it is clear that they will not have sufficient forces also to form a great concentration at the western end of their line. But, of course, if their offensive farther east proved successful, and they broke right through into Germany, that might compensate for any temporary success that the Germans met with in north-eastern France.”

  THE SCHLIEFFEN PLAN

  Thick line: the original plan for enveloping the French Armies. Thin lines: routes actually taken by the German Armies. Note the full extension of the invading forces (broken line) on the 40th day

  “I’ve always thought,” put in Sir Bindon, “that the paper Winston Churchill wrote on that subject at the time of the Agadir crisis summed up the possibilities brilliantly. He was Home Secretary then, so quite outside all this sort of thing, but he was invited to the secret meeting convened by the Prime Minister to hear the views of the Service Chiefs. Later he produced a paper stressing these salient points:

  “There would be two periods at which the French could count on being equal, or possibly superior, in numbers to the Germans, and so be in a favourable position to launch an offensive. First, between the ninth and thirteenth day after mobilisation had begun. But, if they did so then, they would be bound to encounter more and more fresh German formations as they advanced, and so soon lose the initiative. Therefore, such an offensive was doomed to failure. He then forecast that, if the Schlieffen plan was adopted, by the twentieth day after mobilisation the Germans would have forced the line of the Meuse, and that by the fortieth day they would be fully extended. He added that as their lines of communication through Belgium lengthened they would have to detach more and more troops to guard them; and that, therefore, by the fortieth day, if the French had not dissipated their forces in the meantime, a second period would arise when they would be equal, or possibly superior, to their enemies. It was then that they should be able to launch their offensive with the best hope
of success.”

  “Brilliant!” muttered the Duke. “What amazing clarity of mind he possesses. I trust that the French General Staff were suitably impressed.”

  Sir Henry laughed. “That is not for me to say. However, it gives you the alternative strategy to an attack through Alsace-Lorraine, and we have good hopes that the French will adopt it.”

  “If they do not, there is still a way by which the German sweep on Paris could be arrested.”

  “I should be most interested to hear it, Duke.”

  “It is to land a British Army at the French Channel ports, and deploy it to strengthen the French left.”

  Sir Bindon did not flicker an eyelid, and the General’s laugh rang out quite naturally. They were both past masters in the art of dissimulation where Britain’s vital secrets were concerned. For years Sir Henry Wilson had spent all his leaves cycling up and down the roads of Belgium and northern France, so that he might know by heart every stream and contour of the country when the time came, as he was convinced it would, to undertake that very operation. But half its value would be lost if even a hint of our intentions reached the Germans.

  “No, no, Duke!” he protested. “That would be far beyond our capabilities. Think of the immense difficulties with which we should be faced in organising and transporting such an Expeditionary Force—and the time it would take. The Germans would be half way to Paris before we could even get started. Besides, how many divisions could we put into the field? Four—six at the outside. They would be swallowed up and lost in the general mêlée, and such a force could not possibly hope to turn the tide of battle.”

  He was using the very arguments that the Naval Staff had used in 1911, when they had opposed the War Office plan, and had maintained that the British Army should be retained at home, as a striking force to be used later against Antwerp or the German coast, as opportunity offered.

  De Richleau shrugged. “The British have a peculiar genius for organisation, General, and in an emergency are capable of acting with surprising speed; so I believe the difficulties you refer to could be overcome. In such a case, too, it is not the size but the high quality of the British Army that would count; and, above all, the moral effect of such a stroke. Every French soldier would fight with redoubled determination if he knew that British troops were facing the common enemy with him.”

  Now it was the Duke who was using the arguments with which Sir Henry had got the better of the sailors; but Britain’s leading strategist only shook his head again, and said a trifle brusquely: “Can’t be done, Duke. Take it from me!”

  “What use, then, do you propose to make of the Army? Surely you do not intend to keep it here indefinitely from fear of invasion?”

  The General grinned. “That’s a leading question, and one that I’m not prepared to answer. We shall find a use for it in due course, never fear. But it’s going to take time to build it up to a size at which it would be capable of intervening with definite effect in a continental war; and to begin with great numbers of regular officers and N.C.O.s will be needed to train the new levies. As for invasion, we have little fear of that. Of course, the Navy can’t guarantee us against enemy landings carried out on dark nights or during periods of fog; but such raiding parties could have no more than a nuisance value. Within a few hours they would find themselves cut off, and as soon as they ran out of ammunition would be compelled to surrender. No major force with heavy equipment would stand an earthly chance of getting ashore and establishing a permanent foothold. I don’t pretend to know much about the Naval side of the picture, but it is obvious that the French and British fleets combined will give us overwhelming superiority at sea.”

  For a minute they were silent while again sipping their brandy. Then de Richleau asked, “What views do you take of Russia’s prospects of making a deep penetration into Germany, should she leave her eastern frontier comparatively open in order to carry out the Schlieffen plan?”

  “We’re not counting very much on that,” Sir Henry replied, setting down his empty glass. “The snag about Russia is the slowness of her mobilisation. It may be several months before she can bring her great masses face to face with the enemy. In the meantime it is almost certain that a decision of sorts will have been reached in the West, and we shall be entering a new phase of the war. In the worst event, France will have shot her bolt and be on the defensive the wrong side of Paris—or even out of the war. In the best, the French will be holding the Germans on a line from Antwerp to Verdun. In either case the Germans should have ample time to reinforce their eastern front before the Russian steamroller really gets going.”

  “There is, you know, a second Schlieffen plan,” remarked Sir Bindon quietly. “Before he died, Count Schlieffen saw the possibility of the Franco-Russian friendship developing into a firm alliance, so that Germany might be faced with war on two fronts simultaneously. Even then he would not allocate more than one-eighth of the German forces to the Russian front; but he placed them skilfully. A glance at the map will show you the Masurian Lakes. Situated in a vast tract of impassable marshes, they form a chain sixty miles in length, having the fortress of Lotzen in its centre, and running north-to-south about thirty miles inside the East Prussian frontier. The Germans call it the Angerapp Line, and von Schlieffen directed that the German Army of the East should deploy some way behind it. He assumed, probably rightly, that the Russians would advance both to the north and south of the barrier. Should they do so, the Germans would be well placed to attack each of the invading forces in turn, and neither would be able to give assistance to the other. In that way it is possible that the Germans might defeat, or at least inflict a severe check on, forces double the number of their own. And, of course, the initial effort of Russia against Germany must be limited by the fact that she also has her Austrian front to think of.”

  De Richleau nodded, glanced at the General, and asked “What strategy do you think Austria is likely to adopt?”

  “She has two alternatives. She can stand on the defensive against Russia and make a maximum effort against Serbia, with the object of putting her smaller enemy right out of the war before coming to grips with her great antagonist. Or, she can devote just sufficient troops to her southern front to hold Serbia in check while launching the bulk of them in an immediate offensive against Russia. Personally, I think her best course would be to adopt the second policy.”

  “Why?”

  “In the first place, because the factor of the comparative slowness of the Russian mobilisation enters into matters again. It is estimated that by M plus 18 Russia will have been able to muster on the Austrian front only thirty-one divisions plus eleven cavalry divisions, against a probable Austrian concentration of thirty-eight divisions plus ten cavalry divisions. So, you see, if Austria strikes at once, her initial superiority in numbers should give her a good prospect of gaining a victory which would paralyse Russian activities on that front for some considerable time. There is also the factor that an Austrian offensive against Serbia would be of no value as far as the great over-all battle is concerned. Whereas an offensive against Russia would almost certainly have the effect of lightening the Russian pressure on East Prussia, thus making it unnecessary for the Germans to recall divisions from France. To sum up, I think the second policy is not only to Austria’s own best interests, but also the best service she could render to her ally; and it seems obvious that Germany will press her to adopt it.”

  “Your reasoning is excellent, General,” smiled the Duke. “It seems, then, that there is little hope of the Russians drawing any appreciable pressure off the French until the first great clash is over.”

  There fell another pause. Sir Pellinore, who had long since learned the virtues of refraining from pointless comments when experts were talking, had remained silent for the past half an hour. He now leaned forward, stubbed out his cigar, and said:

  “Any more questions, Duke?”

  De Richleau shook his handsome head. “No. I am most grateful to Sir Henry a
nd Sir Bindon for having discussed these matters so frankly with me. Except in certain minor respects, the forecast they have given is not very far from that which my own deductions would have led me to expect. But I considered it important to have confirmation of my ideas. It would be of further assistance if I could be supplied with the names of the officers who are expected to play a leading role in the enemy armies, and such data as is available about them. In certain circumstances such knowledge might prove very useful.”

  “I’ll give you a line of introduction to Maurice Hankey,” Sir Bindon offered. “He is the Secretary of the Committee of Imperial Defence, and will be able to provide you with all the information we possess on such matters.”

  “Many thanks, Sir Bindon. And the sooner I see him the better, as now I have agreed to undertake this work, that also applies to my setting out for Serbia.”

  Five minutes later the four of them were walking from the entrance of the Club, down its short garden path to the street. As they reached the pavement, and paused there to say good-bye before going their several ways, an open motor-car, coming down the hill from Carlton House Terrace, passed them.

  In it were the German Ambassador, Prince Lichnowsky, who had just left his Embassy, and Herr Gustav Steinhauer, the Chief of the German Secret Service.

  The Ambassador swiftly touched his companion on the arm. “Quick! You see that man standing with his back to the railings? The youngish man with the thin aristocratic face, wearing a Homburg. Do you know him?”

  Herr Steinhauer shook his head. “No, Excellency. Who is he?”

  “He is a French political exile and a soldier of fortune. De Richleau is his name. The Duke de Richleau. I last saw him a little over a week ago at the ball at Dorchester House. He was then in the company of the First Lord of the Admiralty and Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust. They were talking together for nearly half an hour in a secluded corner. From where I was sitting I saw the First Lord and Sir Pellinore go in there, and all three of them come out; so it looked like a pre-arranged rendezvous. Now we see the Duke in Sir Pellinore’s company again, and behind the scenes that big bluff Englishman has a finger in every pie. You know, of course, who the other two were?”