Читать книгу The Last Train to Kazan - Stephen Miller - Страница 9

Amid the activity of the Supreme Command headquarters, only one man was in repose: standing quietly in the shadows awaiting the Kaiser’s arrival was Admiral Paul von Hintze, newly appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs. He had been in the job less than a month, and he was tired. There had been little or no time for sleep since his appointment.

Among the staff officers and aides there was an air of controlled yet feverish anticipation. It was the fourth and final attack of General Ludendorff’s great strategic offensive – or the ‘Kaiser Offensive’, as the newspapers would have it – designed to smash through the trenches and the wire, break the will of the French and British, and force a peace on Germany’s terms, before the Americans could arrive and save the day. The great opening bombardment was set to begin at midnight.

At the centre of the room was a large map of the Western Front, and from his position von Hintze could see the coloured ribbons that demarked the great scar that ran down the centre of Europe. He took grim satisfaction that all the ribbons were in French or Belgian territory. Ludendorff’s first three attacks had been successful, but how could one advance across Europe, push to within fifty miles of Paris, withstand every counter-attack, and still not be victorious? Von Hintze knew that the answer lay off the map…in the Atlantic where the British were blockading Germany and starving her into submission. The first three waves of Ludendorff’s attack had washed across the fields of France and Belgium, and then…simply run out of energy. There were no coloured ribbons to represent the hunger of the soldiers, the fatigue and desperation that sapped the will of the most ardent warrior.

There was a sudden movement at the large doors, a command, and every military man in the room snapped to attention as the Kaiser entered. He was, on this night, dressed immaculately, in the uniform of the Supreme War Lord. In his withered left hand he clutched the hilt of his sabre, in his right a Field Marshal’s baton.

For a moment von Hintze was struck with a pang of pity for the man. While they were almost the same age, and distantly related, psychologically they were opposites. Wilhelm had grown up conscious of his deformity and the need to both hide it and compensate for it. Embarrassed and terrified by his own inferiority, he had developed an arsenal of strategies to deflect any crisis, erase every slight, and expunge every weakness from view. As an emperor ruling by divine right, it was inevitable that Wilhelm would adopt the pose of the hyper-masculine War Lord, but Von Hintze, with his naval background and his experience as a diplomat, was adept at reading men’s motives. He did not consider himself a politician by any means, and had always preferred to work quietly, if possible behind the scenes.

As the Kaiser entered the room, his mood seemed ebullient. He smiled at the field officers bowing to him, but von Hintze knew that if today’s attack failed, or if any news arrived in the evening that hinted at a setback, Wilhelm could easily be plunged into paranoia and angry depression. Among the intimates of the Kaiser his quirks and preferences were common knowledge, but now von Hintze studied the man closely, for in his new job as Minister he would have to orchestrate miracles.

He made his way across to the great map and approached the Kaiser. Wilhelm saw him and manufactured a smile that could not quite mask his wary look. Von Hintze bowed stiffly, then moved closer. ‘If I might have a word with you, All Highest.’

‘After we start things, I hope,’ said the Kaiser glancing towards the map. He had come to headquarters to mingle with his generals; the presence of von Hintze could only mean a fresh problem, the kind that could not be solved by howitzers.

There was the muted buzz of a field telephone from the desk just in front of them. Ludendorff looked up and said very quietly, ‘The attack has begun.’ The Kaiser raised his baton in salute and a ripple of applause spread through the room. For a moment afterwards there was a silence that hung in the room, as if they were all holding their breath, then the magic vanished as a series of telephones buzzed into life.

‘How long will the bombardment continue?’ the Kaiser said, his sharp voice cutting through the din.

‘A full hour, Majesty. Eight thousand guns, the largest bombardment of the war,’ said Ludendorff with pride. Looking at him von Hintze could not tell if he was smiling or not.

‘Excellent. The largest! Well, well.’ The Kaiser turned to von Hintze. ‘Perhaps this is a good time then?’

‘There’s plenty of time. Your car is waiting, Majesty.’ Ludendorff had laid on a visit to an observation station. It was a particularly clear night and the Kaiser would be able to watch the pyrotechnics as the bombardment progressed over the Allied lines guarding Rheims. It would also serve to get the Kaiser out of his hair, keep him happy for a while.

‘Yes, I understand, but there are other matters.’ Von Hintze reached around and guided Ludendorff by the elbow. ‘Please, All Highest, if we might…’ They began to walk away from the map table into the shadows, and von Hintze lowered his voice. ‘It’s information about the…special case.’

‘Ahh,’ said Ludendorff, ‘the special case, yes, of course.’

It seemed to Von Hintze that the Kaiser’s face suddenly became stricken. ‘Yes, yes…very important. Very good, Hintze. Is there any progress?’

‘At the moment there is a crisis, since the Czech deserters are approaching the city. What action to be taken is a question that finally only you can answer, All Highest.’

‘Ahh, please, no,’ the Kaiser said, shaking his head. Everyone knew that he hated to actually take a decision. His normal reaction would be to bluster and threaten, then he would inevitably vacillate, and then the postponements would start.

‘First, Majesty, as to the disposition of the special case, the British have said no.’

‘Then there is no option left,’ Ludendorff intoned.

Wilhelm turned and glared at him, shook his head violently. ‘The British will change their minds when they see a sure thing in front of them. They always do.’

‘Among the British, the war has been unpopular, particularly among the working classes. Any gesture of support to a monarch, even one as benevolent as your cousin Nicholas, would inflame the various Socialistic elements within the country. In short, they are afraid of repercussions, Majesty,’ von Hintze said. Having Ludendorff there made it easier to be direct.

‘Yes, but didn’t we talk about that?’

‘Yes we talked, but it doesn’t change anything,’ Ludendorff said, turning to glance back at the map table.

‘Yes, Majesty. We spoke specifically about the idea of a change of identity, of anonymity, but –’

‘What’s wrong with that? You’re not going to tell me it’s impractical. Come on, von Hintze, of course it can be done.’

‘It is very difficult, Majesty,’ he said quietly.

‘I see what is happening. I am not going to abandon my own flesh and blood to the mob, eh!’ Wilhelm said. His voice had risen. A brace of staff officers looked over to them, and then nervously away. ‘What would I be then? A coward? Well, I may be many things, but I am not a coward like my British cousins. When I save the family, then they’ll thank me for it. Wait and see,’ the Kaiser said. Angrily he made a stomping motion with his foot.

Von Hintze looked over at Ludendorff, waiting for him to chime in, but the great strategist only rocked back on his heels and gazed at his staff officers moving about the table. As usual the army was leaving the real problems up to the civilians. For an uncomfortable moment the three of them stood watching the cadets pushing pins in the map. The room was a hive of whispers, the slithering of memoranda crossing the blotters, the scratch of pens, the ratcheting of the telegraph that pierced the room whenever the door opened.

Von Hintze took a deep breath and began again. ‘Unfortunately Yekaterinburg is on the point of being surrounded and it may already be too late.’ The Kaiser in his agitation had walked out into the light. Von Hintze looked at the grey eyes, tired and flecked with bloodshot from fatigue and strain.

‘I know what you are saying, gentlemen, but back when this plan came up, when the idea was first presented to me, everyone was happy, everyone was happy to give me certainties. We spent a million pounds –’

‘Half a million. The first payment only, All Highest.’

‘And we still don’t have anything to show for it?’

‘It’s worse than that,’ Ludendorff started.

‘Here’s the latest telegram, All Highest,’ von Hintze said, fishing it out of his pocket and handing it to the Kaiser, who held it up into the light.

‘Bloody, bloody…What the hell does this mean? “Awaiting shipment all pelts. Seven boxes. Will transport on receipt.”’

‘He’s posing as furrier’s agent.’

‘Ahh.’

‘He would be told to cancel the order.’

‘My God…’

‘Lloyd George is afraid of a similar revolution as has befallen Russia. That’s the reason for the British refusal. They were quite clear about that. Truthfully, Majesty, an upheaval is a real possibility, even I am forced to admit.’ For the first time when Wilhelm rounded on him, von Hintze made himself keep speaking. His hand was trembling. He pressed on.

‘If we go forward with the scheme, and even supposing we save the family, if it somehow becomes known, the public response –’

‘There will be no talk of a revolution in Germany,’ the Kaiser insisted. ‘It’s absurd! Not when we’re winning!’

For a moment von Hintze stood there. His eyes wandered to the great illuminated map and then back to the Kaiser. There was no effective way to get through to the man that today’s attack was in reality Ludendorff’s last desperate gamble.

‘It doesn’t matter about the talking of revolution. You can forbid all you want and there will still be talk in the streets. It’s clear. You can’t have that family here. You can’t have them in Germany,’ Ludendorff said, his gaze swivelled on the Kaiser.

‘I cannot abandon my own flesh and blood. I will not do it!’ the Kaiser hissed. The force of it bent him over at the waist. Across the room he saw the bulk of Hindenburg shifting in his chair. He had a field telephone headset hanging around his neck, and he took it off and handed it to his aide.

Von Hintze jumped in. ‘Even if we were able to go forward, there’s so little we can do, Majesty. With the approach of the Czechs the wires are severed in places, and any communicating takes longer and is less secure.’

‘So, he will have not received his orders?’

‘He does not know whom to contact, Majesty, and under the pressure of events it’s likely that the revolutionists will execute the Tsar.’

‘It’s probably already happened,’ Ludendorff sighed.

For a moment the Kaiser looked at him blankly. ‘But…our agent, he will still continue with the mission, won’t he?’

‘He will await instructions, Majesty.’

The Kaiser looked at him. ‘You mean he will wait there, surrounded? My God, who are these men?’

‘They are soldiers, the same. They are all soldiers,’ Ludendorff said flatly.

‘A very unusual breed of officer,’ said von Hintze.

‘My God,’ the Kaiser said. His eyes were full of tears, and he wiped them away with his sleeve. ‘I’m giving him the Pour le Merite! Who is he? At least I want to meet his family and give them my thanks for producing such a noble son. He signs it “Todmann” – that’s only his code name, yes? Well, I know you’re not supposed to tell anyone, but…’

‘I can tell you very little about him. Colonel Nicolai keeps it all secret. He has a designation number, 3J64-R,’ von Hintze said, looking at a paper. ‘The R is for Russia, so –’

Wilhelm reached down and pulled a blank order form from one of the staff officer’s desks, bent to his pen. ‘What is it again?’

‘“3J64” is good enough.’

The Kaiser scribbled out the order to grant 3J64-R, whoever he was, the honour of the Pour le Merite, and the benefits that would go with it.

‘I tell you, if we had a hundred more like this one, you and I would be having lunch in Paris this afternoon,’ Wilhelm said, looking up at Ludendorff. ‘And I tell you, I can’t bear to think about Nicholas being hanged in front of a mob in Red Square. I can’t allow such a thing,’ he said to him.

‘Do you want to be in Nicholas’s situation? The British aren’t fools. They see the danger. Spend all this…’ He waved an arm back at the room of staff officers. ‘…to win a victory, and throw it away by saving your cousin?’ Ludendorff said, outrageously direct. He was exhausted, von Hintze saw. ‘You can’t allow yourself the luxury of saving them…All Highest,’ Ludendorff said. It was impossible to tell whether he had nearly forgotten to add the honorific at the end, or if he was being sarcastic.

Wilhelm looked at him for one long withering moment. Then he returned to writing out the award order. Von Hintze realized that after all their talking the Kaiser had still taken no decision about the ‘special case’.

‘Should I be so fortunate as to make contact with him, what should I say, All Highest?’ he said, looking at Ludendorff, who sniffed.

‘If he’s surrounded what can he do? Tell him to stay in place and wait for instructions,’ the Kaiser said angrily. ‘When we prevail,’ said he added, signing the order, ‘then there will be negotiations, and if we have custody of the Imperial Family, then, you know…a secret overture might be made. It would be in everyone’s interest to be discreet. They say Nicholas is a butcher, they say I’m a butcher. If Jesus were Kaiser they would say he was a butcher. It’s just more Socialistic agitation. Cowards!’ the Kaiser snapped.

‘Good,’ said Ludendorff, turning and leaving for the table. He intercepted von Hindenburg and waved him back to his seat. There were more telephones buzzing now, and cadets were adjusting unit designations along the jagged lines that ran across the great map. Covered by the gigantic barrage, their storm troopers were advancing to encircle Rheims.

‘You know, they don’t understand,’ the Kaiser said to him. ‘It’s the hardest, the most excruciating duty for a War Lord. To consign brave men, the very life’s blood of the Fatherland, to send them out to their death. At the same time I am unable to help my own poor family.’ He shook his head. For a moment von Hintze thought he might be weeping.

‘And this one,’ the Kaiser said, waving the slip of paper that would grant 3J64-R a life-long pension. ‘This “Todmann”, he’s just an unknown man. A solitary, faceless, nameless human being. We’ve asked him to accept a life of shadows, to accept torture and an anonymous death if he is discovered. This man is a martyr,’ the Kaiser said, pressing the paper into Hintze’s hands. ‘The bravest of us all.’

An aide had stepped up. He held the Kaiser’s long cloak. It was to shelter him on the drive up to the observation post where he would be able to see the artillery. The Kaiser put on his pickelhaube, adjusted the strap beneath his chin, turned to allow the aide to settle the cloak about his shoulders.

‘There’s no room for weakness,’ the Kaiser said to von Hintze. ‘If you’re still having qualms, Herr Minister, get over them. Anything else can wait,’ he said sharply and moved towards the door. A command was shouted, the staff officers briefly fell silent, came to attention, and once the Supreme War Lord had left they went back to their maps and telephones, managing the attack that was designed to bring victory to Germany.