Stars and Stripes In Peril sas-2

by Harry Harrison

  However well he planned, wherever he decided to attack, he knew that there were going to be a lot of good American boys who would never leave this Mexican jungle. The thought depressed him and he chomped hard on his cigar. Well, what must be done must be done.

  But this was a strange place, and far from home, to be fighting America’s battles.

  It was a small and very select company that met in President Lincoln’s office. Other than the President, there was Gustavus Fox, who had arranged the meeting, General Robert E. Lee, as well as William H. Seward, the Secretary of State, Stanton, the Secretary of War. They waited in puzzled silence until Nicolay opened the door and ushered in the Secretary of the Navy. Gideon Welles made his apologies and took his chair at the table. Fox made a check mark on the paper in his hand.

  “You are the last on the list, Secretary Welles. Please lock the door behind you when you leave, John,” Fox said to the President’s secretary. “I have two soldiers out there to prevent anyone from entering — or even coming close to the door.” He waited until he heard the key turn in the lock before he picked up the sheaf of papers from the table and handed them to General Lee. The general took them before he spoke.

  “You must excuse us gentlemen, at what you might think is an excess of secrecy. But there is a reason for it which I will explain shortly.” Lee walked around the table, placing a sheet of paper in front of everyone present. “I am giving each of you a list of those who are attending this meeting today. Please keep this list by you at all times. Because what transpires here today must not be spoken of to anyone not on this list. There can be no exceptions. For our plans to succeed we must do what our enemies did. Keep a secret.”

  “What secret?” Lincoln asked.

  “Just this. You will recall that recently I was asked to develop a plan to harass the enemy, to work out another way of placing them under attack. Tomorrow, in the War Room, I will outline the details of a plan to take our battle to the enemy. With the approval of everyone there, Cabinet members and the military, we will then proceed to go on the offensive. It is important that all here support my proposed plan and let nothing get in the way of implementing it. I want you to remember that this is the major attack on the British, the one that you asked me to prepare.”

  Lee looked around slowly at the men gathered there, then spoke.

  “To put it at its simplest — we are going to attack the Pacific end of the British invasion road at the port of Salina Cruz.”

  He waited patiently as the murmur died down. “To do this we will need at least half of the ironclads now under construction. Then coaling stations must be established down the length of South America, as well as coaling ships in ports on the Pacific flank of South America, since there is no coal there now. There will also have to be a goodly fleet of transport for the invading army—”

  “What you are saying will be most expensive,” Gideon Welles broke in. “We must double the size of our fleet in order to create a two-ocean navy. And when that is done, at great expense I must add, our Atlantic fleet will still be the same size that it is now.”

  “If you will be patient, Mr. Welles, you will soon realize the need for all present here to support this plan. With the willing cooperation of everyone in this room any opposition to this plan must be overruled, beaten down if necessary. Arrangements for this attack will go through just as I have outlined.”

  These men, the men responsible for the war against the enemy, did not like being spoken to like this. Before they could voice their protests, Lee raised his hand and smiled, almost mischievously.

  “This plan which I have just outlined to you will go through and it will be implemented.” He looked around at the puzzled men, then added. “But no one, other than those present here, will know that the proposed attack on the British in the Pacific Ocean is only a cover to convince the enemy that we will attack on the Pacific shore. Our determination must be very convincing.” He looked around at the puzzled men.

  “Very convincing — because it is not the true plan of attack. That will be known only to those of you in this room at this time.”

  He waited until the shouts and queries had died down.

  “The British did this to us, you will remember, kept secret their true invasion plans from their own fleet and Britain as a whole. Even the captains of the ships taking part in the British operation thought that they were going to the West Indies. Only when they were at sea, and out of touch of land, did they open their sealed orders and find out that they were to go to Mexico instead. Just as everyone involved in our planned attack will believe that we are on the way to the Pacific. As the British did, orders will be opened only after the attacking force sails.”

  “If not the enemy’s port in Mexico,” Stanton called out angrily, “where the tarnation are we going?”

  Lee looked around the table as the stunned silence lengthened. Then he leaned forward, put both hands flat on the table, then spoke one word.

  “ Ireland,” Lee said, smiling beatifically upon the stunned men. “We are going to invade Ireland and free that country from the British yoke. I think that they will very quickly forget all about Mexico when they see our guns pointed at them from across the Irish Sea.”

  Lincoln’s voice broke through the stunned silence.

  “Now you have to admit, as the young lady said to the preacher, that there are some things in the world that you just shouldn’t talk about. When General Lee first told me of this deceit I felt as you do now. Overwhelmed. But the more you examine it the better it looks. We have here a plan of attack that is most audacious. But in order to succeed not a whisper of its existence must leak out. I am sure that you gentlemen can see why. Under the guise of one attack we must prepare another. The British will soon learn of our proposed Mexican invasion, certainly the coal ships and other preparations will be noticed. And the more they prepare for that battle the more unprepared they will be for our invasion of Ireland. Secrecy is our watchword, audacity our goal. It can be done — it will be done. General Lee will be happy to tell you how.”

  THE SECRET PLAN

  General Thomas Meagher was intensely tired. It had been a very rough Atlantic Ocean crossing from France, while the train from New York had taken most of the night to rattle uncomfortably to Washington City. He entered his tent and dropped into a chair, wearily began to pull off his boots. The only problem occupying his mind at this time was whether to change out of his civilian clothes before he fell asleep. Or maybe just drop onto his cot and get some well-deserved shut-eye. The decision was taken away from him when Captain Gossen poked his head in through the tent flaps.

  “I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you, Tom. I’ve had a message on my desk for over a week now. You’re to report to General Robert E. Lee at the War Department, the instant you show up. Or earlier.”

  Meagher groaned, then shouted for his horse to be saddled, sighed — and wearily pulled his boots back on. To better prepare himself for his visit — and perhaps burn away some of the fatigue — he downed a halftumbler of corn liquor before he went out.

  They were indeed waiting for him at the War Department and a guide was instantly summoned. The soldier showed him the way to Room 313. There was a delay in admitting him, until Fox himself came out to identify him.

  “General Meagher — just the man I want to see. Come on in.”

  General Robert E. Lee was sitting at the long table working on a file of papers. He turned them face down before he stood and shook the Irishman’s hand.

  “A pleasure to meet you, General Meagher. Come — let us get comfortable on the couch. Was your to trip Ireland a profitable one?”

  Meagher looked to Fox before he answered: Fox nodded and spoke.

  “General Lee knows all about your work in the Fenian Circle in the Irish Brigade. He knows as well all about your present attempts at the refounding of the Fenian Circle in Ireland.”

  “In that case I can tell you that it went very well indeed, sir. Twelve
more of my officers are on the way at this very moment to Dublin. Very soon now and we will have a network of cells established right across the country. And all completely safe and secure — and clear of informants.”

  “That is very good to hear,” Lee said. “I want you to work very closely with me in the near future. I would greatly desire to put you on my staff, but that would draw unnecessary attention to you.”

  Meagher was puzzled. He rubbed at his jaw and felt unshaven skin rasp against his fingertips. “I’m afraid that I miss your meaning, General.”

  “Let me explain. Right now General Grant is leading an expeditionary force into Mexico to attack the British who are building that road that we are all so worried about. His first reports indicate that the enemy is well dug in and that attacking their defenses will be hard and bloody work. Still, we must increase the pressure on the British. You will soon be getting orders, and official reports, about an assault that will be building up to attack them, in order to force them out of Mexico. This will be done by our mounting a major attack on the Pacific end of their road across the isthmus.”

  “Sure and that sounds a fine idea. Cut off the supply of troops and that will put paid to their invasion.”

  “I am glad that you think so. You will keep saying just that to your officers and men. But you will never speak in public — or in private — about what I am going to tell you now. Nor will you reveal anything you learn here to your officers and men — no matter how tempted you are. Do you understand?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Than I shall elucidate. You will be one of the very few people who will know that the Mexican attack will never be carried out. It is in the nature of a ruse, a misdirection that will have the enemy looking just where we want them to look. Of course real plans, ship and troop movements, will be carried out. But we plan a totally different invasion. Do I have your word that you will reveal nothing that you hear in this room?”

  “You have that, sir. I would swear that on the Holy Bible, if you had one here. I swear on the blessed Virgin Mary, the bloody wounds of Christ, and may the wild dogs of Brian Boru tear my throat out if I so much as breathe a word.”

  “Yes, well, your word as an officer will do fine. Mr. Fox, if you please.”

  Fox stood and took a key from his vest pocket and crossed the room. On the wall there was what appeared to be a wooden cabinet, at least a yard wide, but only a few inches thick. He unlocked the padlock that secured it, opened the door to disclose the map inside.

  “This is our true target,” Lee said.

  Meagher was on his feet, not believing his eyes.

  “Holy Mother of God,” he whispered. “It’s Ireland! We are going to invade Ireland?”

  “We are indeed. We shall free that land from the occupying forces, and bring Ireland democracy — just as we did in Canada.”

  For the first time in recorded history Meagher was speechless. This was the cause that he had worked for all his adult life, what had always seemed such a lost cause. Were the dreams of the patriots down through the ages — were they to come true in his lifetime? It was unbelievable — but he had to believe it. The general had said it and there before his eyes was the Emerald Isle.

  Meagher heard Lee’s voice as though it were coming from a great distance: he shook his head. Aware suddenly of the tears in his eyes. He dashed them away with the back of his hand.

  “I’m sorry, General Lee, but it’s like a dream come true. A dream dreamt by every Irishman for hundreds and hundreds of years. Sure and my heart is bursting with joy and those tears were tears of gratitude. I thank you for what you are doing, thank you for the thousands of dead martyrs — and for all the Irishmen now living under the yoke of British tyranny. This is — so unexpected. You cannot understand…”

  “I believe that I do. We fight to preserve American independence. If, in doing so, we can aid in fulfilling an Irish ambition that has been centuries in the making, we will be both honored and proud. Your homeland has given many of its sons to America. It is a pleasing thought that in defending our country we can aid a staunch ally, that has provided so many soldiers to the defense of this sovereign land. You, and your men, must be our eyes and our ears in Ireland. Yet there must be no suspicion that the military intelligence they are acquiring will be needed by the United States Army. Can this be done?”

  Meagher could not sit still, so momentous were General Lee’s words. He jumped to his feet and paced the room, his thoughts atwirl. He slammed his fist over and over again into his palm, as though he could pummel the answer from his own flesh. Yes, yes — it was possible.

  “It can be done. After all the Fenians are organized to plan a rebellion. Only this hope of eventual success has kept the movement alive. The men now working for the Fenian cause in Ireland are our eyes and ears. They all believe that the needed facts that they are gathering will be stored for that happy day when rebellion will be possible. But as you have said, only I will know that the information is being assembled for a larger and far more immediate use. It is more than possible, indeed it is what we would be doing in any case.”

  “Admirable. There are many things that I must know before we can begin to plan an attack. An attack, remember, that cannot be allowed to fail. You must realize how precarious our position will be so far from these shores — and so close to England. Therefore the presence of our invading forces must be unseen, their existence unknown — until the moment the attack is launched. Our strike must be fast, accurate — and well-timed. If possible, victory must be in our grasp before our presence is known in England. For once we attack, and win, we must still be prepared for an immediate counterattack by the enemy. We will run great risks. But if — when — we succeed it will be a great and historical victory.”

  “That it will be, General. And every manjack of us in the Irish Brigade is willing to shed his blood to bring about that glorious day.”

  “If we plan well enough it will be the British blood that will be shed. Now, enlighten me about your country. All I see before me is a map of an island. I ask you to populate that map with people, to tell me of their cities and their history. All I know is that this history is a violent one.”

  “Violence! Invasion! Where do I begin, for it is a history of murder and deceit in the past — and the particularly vile existence of the Plantations in the present. The English have always been a plague on Ireland, but it was that monster Cromwell who fell on this country like some demon from hell. The clearances began, clearing the Irish from their own homes. Took off the thatched roofs of the cottages, his Roundheads did, turned the population of Ireland out of their homes and onto the roads. There are no gypsies in Ireland — but there are our tinkers. The descendants of those Cromwell made homeless, Irish doomed to roam those muddy roads forever. Yet to never arrive.”

  Lee nodded and made some notes on the papers before him. “You mentioned the Plantations. Surely you do not mean sugar or cotton plantations?”

  “Not those. I mean the turning out of Roman Catholic Irishmen from their homes in Ulster, to hand these vacated premises over to Protestants from Scotland. An enemy tribe implanted so cruelly in our midst. You can tell it by the names! Every city in Ireland has a location, a portion of that city that is named Irishtown. Where those true Irish live who were turned out of their homes.”

  “Then your planned rebellion is a religious rebellion. Catholic Irish against the English and their Protestant allies?”

  “Not a bit of that. There has always been a Protestant presence in Ireland. Some of her greatest patriots have been of the Protestant faith. But, yes, there are hard and cruel men here in the north, here in Ulster. I remember one of the bits we had to memorize, drilled into us by the priests in school. It was an Englishman who said it, a famous man of letters. ‘I never saw a richer country, or, to speak my mind, a finer people.’ That’s what he said. But he went on — ‘the worst of them is the bitter and envenomed dislike which they have to each other. Their facti
ons have been so long envenomed, and they have such narrow ground to do battle in, that they are like people fighting with daggers in a hogshead.’ Sir Walter Scott himself said that, as long ago as 1825.”

  Meagher walked over and touched Belfast, drew a circle around it with his finger. “They are right good haters, they are. They hate the Pope in Rome, just as they love that plump little German lady who sits on the throne. A hatred that has lasted for centuries. But you shouldn’t be asking me — I’ve never been north myself. The man that you should talk to is the doctor in our Irish Brigade. Surgeon Francis Reynolds. He is from Portstewart in Derry, right up north on the coast. But he studied medicine in Belfast, then practiced there for some years. He’s your man if you want to know about the doings in Ulster.”

  “Is he reliable?” Lee asked.

  “The stoutest Fenian among us!”

  Lee scribbled a quick note as he spoke. “Special consideration then for Belfast and the North. Consider consultation with Surgeon Reynolds. Now — what about the British military presence in Ireland?”

  “Usually there are twenty to thirty thousand British troops in the country at any one time. Their biggest concentration is here, in the Curragh, a high plain south of Dublin. Plenty of soldiers there, mixed up with the sheep farmers. There has always been occupying troops stationed there since time began — but now they have brick buildings and an offensive permanent presence.”

  “And elsewhere?”

  “In Belfast of course. And Dublin, in the Castle, Cork in the south and more here and here.”

  Lee joined him before the map. “Roads — and trains?”

  “Almost everything runs out of Dublin. North to Belfast. Then the other trains go south from Dublin along the coast to Cork. Going west from Dublin across the Shannon to Galway and Kerry. Ah, and it’s a lovely coast there, the flowering bogs, the blue rivers.”