CSA 1916 News

[Guinness]

Backing up just a touch...

January 12, 1916

The Secretary of State sat in the morning traffic on Peachtree Street in Atlanta and pondered whether or not he should have taken the subsurface railway, as that system in the city styled itself. He looked out the window of the hired car he was riding in, and noted with annoyance that a morning coffee and pastry vendor was making better time pushing his cart up the sidewalk. At this rate, he was sure to be late to the breakfast being held in his honor by the Georgia Democratic Party at the Georgian Terrace Hotel. The weather at least was glorious and unseasonably warm, which in Atlanta this time of year meant it would be shirtsleeve weather by afternoon.

Wilson turned his attention back to the pile of paperwork in his open briefcase. Right on top: the telegraph which had been waiting for him when he got off the train at Terminal Station.

To:   Secretary of State Wilson, CSA
From: Ambassador Black, Confederate Embassy Lima Peru

PERUVIANS INQUIRE AS TO WHETHER THEY MIGHT HOST A MEETING BETWEEN YOURSELF AND TORRES HERE STOP UNSURE NOW OF COLOMBIAN INVOLVEMENT STOP APPEARS TO BE INITIATIVE OF PERUVIANS STOP AWAIT ORDERS

Wilson looked out the window again. The coffee merchant had cornered three customers in the entrance of an office building. He must have been there a while if the car had caught up with him.

"So, either the Peruvians have stepped out of the shadow of their allies, or have been ordered to come to us with this request." Wilson thought to himself. The timing was fortuitous. He picked up the printed copy of the speech he was supposed to give this morning. The theme was the benefits of arriving at a diplomatic agreement with Colombia to end the long years of posturing and the attendant fantastically expensive naval construction race.

Wilson leaned forward and spoke to the car's driver, who was colored like almost all the chauffeurs, butlers, shoe shine men, and other "servants" of Atlanta. "Driver, could we jog over to West Peachtree Street and try to avoid some of this damnable traffic?" The driver nodded and maneuvered the car to make a left turn at the next street.  Wilson knew the city well, having first practiced law in Atlanta, though it had grown by leaps and bounds since then.

They were about ten blocks from Wilson's destination. West Peachtree was just as gridlocked as Peachtree. He considered getting out and walking. "Probably too undignified." He thought.

Wilson pondered the telegram further. If the Peruvians were genuine, and if the Colombians were to play ball, such a trip, if successful, could cement for him the Democratic nomination in August. The Vice-President, his only real competition among the Democrats, would surely speak out against dialog with Gran Colombia, but it was the sense of Wilson's pollsters that the country was growing tired of the Colombian menace, and while generally in favor of more activist foreign policy, was opposed to foreign military interventions, and not at all at ease with the Nassau Conference. In one stroke, a diplomatic agreement with Colombia could validate Wilson's efforts in securing Nassau, while at the same time allowing military spending to be reduced, and further, demonstrate to voters that Wilson's "Way of Words instead of War" had real benefit when it came time to decided between Wilson and Roosevelt.

Judging from the polls showing voters currently preferred Roosevelt by two to one, he considered, this might be the best chance he has.

[Guinness]

Continued...

Percy LeVille took off his broad-brimmed white hat and used it to fan himself as he looked out over the placid blue waters of the Gulf of Texas. The June sun beat down mercilessly, and not for the first time lately, LeVille wished he was in better shape.

The crew of S-10 carried out their usual work, but mostly milled about lazilly in the midday heat as she cruised steadily toward Cancun.

For LeVille, the last week or so had already blurred together into a spasm of memory. From getting approval to investigate the case of the Cherokee personally from his superiors more than a month after making the initial request, to the long train trip from Richmond through Atlanta and ultimately to South Florida, to meeting with Commander Perry to persuade him to allocate a sloop to retrace Cherokee's course and port visits, and then ultimately to embarking on S-10, the very ship that had found Cherokee in the first place.

To LeVille S-10's CO, the young Lieutenant Clark, had seemed eager to try to find those who had murdered the Cherokee's passengers and crew. This was relieving, as LeVille had feared that whomever might be tasked with motoring him all over the Gulf of Texas and the Caribbean might have resented the task.

And now, in the hot midday sun, the Mesoamerican coast was just coming over the horizon, and there, at the Confederate governed "city" of Cancun, LeVille hoped he'd start finding answers.

It was late afternoon before S-10 finally tied up to the pier at Cancun. The first task for LeVille and Clark was to answer a few questions themselves, as the men of the Confederate 3rd Coast Defense District were more than a little curious as to what a boatload of their comrades from the 2nd Coast Defense District in Key West were doing at their humble little installation.

Those administrative extra-curriculars out of the way, Clark left the boat under the care of the young Ensign recently assigned as his first officer, ordered most of the men of S-10 to take a night's leave in Cancun. The boat's Chief, Gomez, added a stern "but stay out of trouble" to the command, then joined Clark and LeVille as they walked from the docks into Cancun, in search of the little Import/Export operation which LeVille understood to have been the site of the last transaction carried out by Cherokee's crew.

After only a couple of minutes of walking, they found a boarded up storefront at the address.

"This is the right place?" Clark asked LeVille.

LeVille checked the notebook he'd written the information in. "Yes, this is the address I have here."

Gomez looked to his left and right, then quickly strode left and into the little store next door, which seemed mostly to be selling second hand clothing and various other items, staffed by a small middle-aged local man, and an even smaller woman, presumably his wife. As Clark and LeVille looked on, a short conversation in at least three languages, and including a lot of pointing and arm waving ensued. Gomez emerged from the store.

"They say there was an Import/Export business here, but that it closed, they say, back in February. That's all they'd tell me though. Kept saying something like 'bad men, bad men' over and over again."

The three stood around for a moment while LeVille weighed his options. "Well, I suppose there's only one thing to do now!" he said cheerfully. "Where's the closest saloon?"

It turned out the closest saloon was only a few yards up the street on the corner. The three men, LeVille in his white and light-blue striped seersucker suit with no neck tie, and Clark and Gomez in their working uniforms, entered the saloon through its open front door and peered inside into the relative darkness. It occurred to LeVille immediately that he was a bit out of place. He lead the threesome in and all three leaned up to the bar, where the bartender peered at him rather crossly.

"Ah my Confederate friends, what can I get for you?" the man behind the bar asked in heavily accented Norman. "Three of your best whiskeys my good man" LeVille answered cheerfully, as he slapped a crisp Confederate 5 dollar bill down on the bar: several times more than what the whiskey would cost.

"Would you like to open a tab then?" The bartender asked. LeVille smiled.

"Possibly. There might also be more where this comes from, but I'm not just here for refreshment, but rather some information."

"Ah well, I can only tell you what I know my friend." The bartender replied, leaving the bill on the bar. LeVille added another five dollar bill to it, and this time the bartender took them both and shoved them into the hip pocket of his trousers.

LeVille handed the whiskeys to his companions, and turned back to the bartender. In the meantime, Gomez had turned his back to the bar, and was surveying the scene in the saloon. It was all but deserted, short of a pair of rough looking fellows in a table in the corner, eying him suspiciously. One of them gave him a curt nod, then got up from the table and walked around the corner of the bar, and disappeared through a door in the back.

Gomez elbowed Clark to get his attention, and whispered to him "sir, I've got a bad feeling about this place".

He tried to casually keep an eye on the remaining character in the corner, while at the same time not draw too much more attention to himself and his colleagues when the man returned from the door in the back. Clark watched him go by, then whispered to Gomez "maybe he was just taking a leak?"

LeVille's interrogation continued, and Clark and Gomez realized that he wasn't speaking any language either of them spoke or heard very often. Before long, Gomez realized it must have been one of the Nahuan dialects spoken in the DRM. The conversation seemed very guarded. The bartender was reluctant to give up information freely, and LeVille was having to use all his charm, and more than a few of his crisp 5 dollar bills, to get anywhere.

Within five minutes or so though, the two men in the corner were joined by four more men, all of which eyed them suspiciously. Clark could sense Gomez tensing up. Then in just a moment, all six were gone, having gone right back out the front door. "Strange" Clark thought out loud.

LeVille downed his second whiskey of the visit, reached across the bar and shook the bartender's hand. "Thank you very much my friend" LeVille said, then turned to his companions. "Well then, shall we?"

The three Confederates exited the saloon and stood on the side of the dusty dirt street.

"He was not very forthcoming, but he confirmed the story about the Import/Export shop closing up in February. He said they'd sold out of all their wares and moved on. Gave me another address of an associate we might talk to though. It's not far from here." He omitted in this account the stern warning the bartender had given him. In Norman it could be translated as "Beware, the evil eye is watching us all."

LeVille consulted his notebook, and a small map of Cancun he'd had folded in it. He made a small show of orienting himself, then pointed grandly up the street. "This way men!".

None of the three noticed the two men who emerged from the doorway next door to the saloon, and began to follow them at a very respectful distance.

[Guinness]

March 3, 1916

The Secretary of State, Woodrow Wilson stood on the flag bridge of CSS Davis and watched as two of Davis's current crop of midshipmen labored to haul up a packet of correspondence from the crew along the shore of Le Grande Canal.

He found the apparent language difficulty amusing. The midshipmen spoke at least serviceable French (as did most current students and recent graduates of the Confederate Naval Academy), but it seemed that the French of those on the shore was considerably worse. This was no surprise when Wilson considered it -- the workers along the canal were of many nationalities. Indeed, it was a wonder to Wilson that the canal worked at all. Every time he'd seen it, it seemed to be in a state of a sort of benign neglect. Probably a good metaphor for the state of the Glorious French Empire in general, he thought.

Still, after several minutes of bellowing through megaphones and considerable gesturing, the line from Davis to shore was rigged, and the various wires and mail passed across, and Davis could get underway again, headed south toward the deep sea-level cut through the mountain range that ran down the western coast of Central America.

Wilson adjusted the wide white hat he was wearing as protection from the harsh mid-day sun as his aid climbed the ladder from the maindeck carrying the considerable portion of the haul meant for him. Most of it was various wires that had found their way via telegraph cable in anticipation of Wilson's passing through the canal.

The aid pulled a few off the top of the stack as he and Wilson began to peruse them.

"Here's one from Richmond about trade negotiations with the Russians." Wilson glanced at it and shoved it into the pocket in his folio to look at later.

"Here's one marked secret and for your review about the DRM. Incidents of piracy, that sort of thing." Wilson didn't even look at this one, but shoved it behind the memo on Russian trade negotiations in his portfolio.

"Ah, here's one from Lima." The aid read down a bit.  "Protocol discussions appear to going as well as we could have expected." Wilson also silently took little notice of this.

The aid pulled another sheet from the stack he'd been paging through. "Here's an update from Kolkata. The situation continues to deteriorate. There are reports that the Colombians have taken something of a lead in dealing with the humanitarian issues there."

Wilson took the sheet and read it solemnly. "And all our French allies have to say so far is the usual all is well business then?" he commented. He shared a knowing look with the aid. "Well, if our French friends don't need our help. I'm sure the Normans and especially the Italians are providing any assistance the French need at the moment. Just helping keep all this..." Wilson gestured to either side of the ship toward the works of the canal, "safe and secure is probably plenty of assistance, I'm sure."

"Nothing else here looks pressing... No excuse me. One more". He pulled a telegram from a civilian telegram envelope. "Latest poll numbers from Richmond."

"Yes, how bad is it?" Wilson asked as he took the sheet and looked. He made a face. "The boffins in Richmond say we need to make a splash, seize some headlines, eh?" The aid nodded. "Well, we'll have to see if the Colombians will help us out there, won't we?"

[Guinness]

continued...

Clark awoke to the most overpowering sensation of thirst. His mouth was so dry as to be distinctly uncomfortable. Coming shortly after that was the intense aching pain in his head.

It took him several more seconds before he realized that the pain wasn't just in his head, but extended to most of the rest of his body as well. He then realized he was laying on his side in a most uncomfortable position. He tried to roll over on his back, before realizing he could night. His wrists were bound together behind his back, and it seemed bound to his wrists was also a line leading to his similarly bound angles. He was immobilized.

He opened his eyes gingerly, but could barely see out of them. His vision cleared somewhat, just so he could make out two pairs of boots in the darkness. Their owners were carrying on a fairly civil sounding conversation in a language he didn't understand.

Then it all started coming back to him. The confrontation with the armed men in the empty shop space in Cancun. Clark, Gomez, and LeVille had been outnumbered and outgunned. They'd walked right into it.

Then being tied up. Beaten. Half-heartedly interrogated. Beaten again. Tied up. Loaded in a wagon and driven God knows where. More abuse. More wagon trips.

When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't remember. It had been days at least.

He tried to keep calm and assess the situation. He had no how many days it had been since his capture. He hadn't see Gomez or LeVille since the first wagon ride either.

It was dark outside, and, it seemed, they were still riding in the wagon. That's all he could tell. Should he let his escorts know he'd come around?

Clark let out a long low feint groan. The conversation in the back of the wagon stopped. Then more, more excited talking. A debate maybe. The result was that a hand appeared holding a tin cup. Water.

Clark did his best to drink what he was offered. It wasn't much, and did nothing to parch his thirst.

The wagon continued on until morning, and Clark faded in and out of consciousness several times, before lurching to a stop. Clarks escorts threw back the canvas cover and unceremoniously picked him up by his shoulders and knees, and dropped him to the ground. It hurt.

He looked up to see they'd come to a dusty crossroads. Somewhere inland and north, the navigator in Clark thought. He tried to blink the junk out of his eyes. They hurt and itched. Still he could see other bound figures on the ground behind two other wagons. So they were still alive, he thought.

One of his escorts produced a large knife. Clark looked on curiously. Shouldn't I be afraid? he thought. The man reached down and grabbed the rope around Clark's ankles, and cut it. They then picked him up and put him on his feet, pointing him at the only building around, a dusty wooden shack. They gave him a good push, but somehow Clark managed not to fall down, and moved toward the shack.

Once in, the three prisoners were pushed down to the floor, but allowed to sit up. Then their "host" spoke to them in clear Norman, with a bit of Middle Tennessee accent: "Gentlemen, I'm sorry if you were harshly treated. I hope you understand that in times such as these passions can run a bit high. Please, have a drink." A dusty man put a cup full of water in front of each man and helped them drink from it.

Their host walked slowly about the room, which was entirely devoid of furniture. "Please excuse our poor hospitality, but all of Tenochtitlan's best hotels are booked." The smirk on his face indicated that he was enjoying himself. Then toward LeVille: "Mr LeVille, I'm not surprised to see you here. You've been meddling quite a bit in Mesoamerican affairs these last couple of years, haven't you?"

LeVille said nothing. He stared intently into the man's eyes.

"Yes, I remember you Mr. LeVille. You made quite an impression those times we met before. Your Mr. Smith wasn't around to keep you out of trouble this time.

The Host turned his back on his guests for a moment, then walked to front window of the shack and looked through the cracked panes. Without turning around, he continued, "Mr. LeVille, it seems your government has decided that the current regime isn't worth saving. Even now, revolution has come again. We wait here for word of what is to be done with the three of you. I must apologize again though. Had the situation been more... settled, we'd have given you all quick deaths. Sadly your turned up in Cancun asking your questions at just the wrong time, I'm afraid."

"You might as well have something to eat though." He turned to one of his men and gave a short order in an Anahuac dialect. Out of a pouch was produced a stack of flat cornbread and some dried chilis and meats. Each prisoner had his hands rebound before their bodies so they could eat.

"Good, I feel dreadfully awful about the conditions you've been kept in."

The host kept making trips back and forth to the window. It felt like they'd been there for hours before he turned away from the window one last time and said "good, they are coming now".

Minutes past before the sound of horses being tied up. Then boots on the hard ground, and a conversation outside. LeVille looked up pointedly. Gomez just continued to look at his feet.

The door opened, and two heavily armed men stepped in and exchanged greetings with the host. The taller of the two men pulled down his bandanna, and LeVille recognized him immediately. "Smith!"

"Come on men, we're getting you out of here. The Democratic Republic of Mesoamerica is no more."

[Kaiser Kirk]

One of his escorts produced a large knife. Clark looked on curiously. Shouldn't I be afraid?

It's not a bad idea to at least be worried.

The Democratic Republic of Mesoamerica is no more.

Should I having Mauser crank up their production lines?

[Guinness]

May 8 1916

The Atlanta Journal

Turmoil in Mesoamerica

Tenochtitlan -- Hundreds are dead and many more are injured following a week of violence in and around the Mesoamerican capital.

Violence, always lurking just below the best of times even under the best of circumstances in the Democratic Republic of Mesoamerica has reared its ugly head through at least one daily event. It started when a bomb was thrown among a group of courthouse workers on their lunch breaks on May 1.

Following since that day have been bombings of police stations and cafes, a machine gun attack on a number of Party functionaries at a cafe, and the explosion of a streetcar near central Tenochtitlan.

The government has finally responded with a curfew and a declaration of marshal law in the capital, but to seemingly no effect. Few soldiers have appeared within the city. It is unknown if this is part of a stated government policy, or the result of some resistance among the officers and the men of the Army to participate. Depsite the curfew, life in the capital has gone on largely as normal. Opinion among everyday Tenochtianians on the street seems to range from ambivalence to guarded optimism: "It's dangerous here whether someone is throwing bombs or not." said one women who was interviewed. Commented another man on the street, "Maybe we'll finally be rid of these rotten red socialists and be able to work for a living again." said a man working a vegetable stall at one of the cities many street markets.

Meanwhile similar reports of violence have come from beyond the Tenochtitlan basin, including reports of men on horseback taking and reinforcing towns to the north, near the border with the CSA.

For it's part, the Confederate State Department has been expressed less than total confidence in the government's capacity to react to this crisis. The Confederate Embassy today issued a warning to all Confederate citizens in Mesoamerica that "they should be prepared to leave the country on short notice, and if their affairs allow, should consider leaving now, for their own safety."

[Guinness]

May 9 1916

To: Commanding Officer CSS Lincoln
From: CnC Atlantic Fleet
RE: Orders

Proceed immediately to Cancun, DRM and anchor in harbor. Provide any and all assistance necessary to safeguard interests of the CSA and it's citizens in that city, using deadly force if necessary. Land shore parties or use any other available resources as appropriate.

You are in command of all Confederate forces in the vicinity until further notice. Assess situation and notify myself of additional resources if needed.

[Guinness]

May 13, 1916

Background: The CSA has an official Naval Academy at Norfolk, but no titular military academy. Instead it draws new professionally trained officers from the graduates of the Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia and the Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina.

Presidents have traditionally used the oppurtunity to speak at the commencement ceremonies of one of the three to announce major new military policy initiatives. For instance, in his first year in office, President Roosevelt announced the major modernization and expansion of the Navy before the graduating class of the Naval Academy.

Today he's taken the oppurtunity to speak to VMI's graduating class to outline an overhaul of the Army's organization and philosophy. Some excerpts:

"Today I stand before you humbled by the intelligence, dedication, discipline, and honor of those graduates assembled here. It is in your hands that we as a nation place the protection our safety and prosperity, and we do so with great confidence that we have chosen the right hands."

"For the past several years, the nations energies for strategy and reform have been aimed at the Navy." *There is good natured booing and hissing from the graduates. The President smiles and holds his hands up in a gesture of understanding.* "Today I've chosen this august gathering to announce that we as a nation must now turn out attention to the army." *Cheers and applause.*

"First we must recognize the realities of modern war. Technology is advancing rapidly, and with it the way of war is also changing quickly. I need not lecture those such as you about these trends, as you've just spent four years at the forefront of their study. So you will join me in recognizing that our Army, as currently organized and equipped, could be better prepared for modern war."

"Today Congress has authorized an active force strength of 650,000 men. Not long ago we faced threats on our own borders, but today the Normans are our very good friends, we have no reason to fear the Riders of Rohan, and despite recent unrest, need less resources than we believed in the past was needed to police our border with Mesoamerica. Instead we must recognize the new reality that if the Confederate Army is to be called to war, with will be outside our own borders, indeed outside our own continent, and on short notice. We must organize and equip our forces in such a way as to be ready. This will mean a smaller, better equipped and more intensively trained force."

"Of today's 650,000 men, 150,000 are mounted cavalry. Sadly for our nation, so rich as we are in our tradition of warriors on horseback, the age of the cavalry charge may very well be waning. We can no longer afford so many troops on horseback. Instead of three corps of Cavalry, we will reduce the force to two active independent Cavalry divisions."

"Additionally, experiments in deployment of forces from sea have shown the wisdom of a force specialized for the purpose, and able to closely coordinate with the Navy." *more boos, but more respectful this time* The natural core for such a force is the Marine Corps, who for more than a century have operated aboard our ships. Unfortunately, the Marine Corps has always been a Corps in name only. I've asked Congress to change that by creating a real Corps level organization, which while it will still report to the Secretary of the Navy, will be equipped and run much like the Army. Indeed, the extra arms required will initially be taken from the retired Cavalry corps."

"Heavy Infantry will continue to be the heart of the new Army, but more specialization is also required. So I will also request that Congress create a new specialist Mountain Infantry Corps, which will take advantage of the great mountain ranges of the Confederacy to train and hone their skills, such that if needed, we can wield them to great effect anywhere in the world where they might be needed."

"Finally, the goal is to field the most professional, best equipped Army in the world. To that end, we will modernize and continue to modernize all active formations, starting with the Marine Corps. We will introduce new weapons and tactics as soon as is wise to do so. In short we will prepare so that we can fight smarter than the enemy."

"And what of our Militia and Reserves? They continue to be the backbone of our strength. In the short term, little will change. State militias and the Army reserve will continue to train on existing schedules, and be organized into Corps level formations should mobilization be required, but themselves will too eventually be modernized. It has been the reality though that we can never have enough men in our Militias or the Army Reserve, and in recognition of that fact, we will reorganize somewhat, leaving a stockpile of available material available, should we need it later."

"When all is said and done, the new army will constitute 450,000 authorized active-duty personnel, including 50,000 Marines and 50,000 cavalry, 650,000 authorized reserve and militia soldiers, and enough arms to equip 150,000 more. We expect an annual cost savings of nearly 12% for that force, freeing up substantial sums to spent in the future for modernization and new equipment."

[Guinness]

June 16, 1916

The Richmond Times-Dispatch

Wilson Nominated by Democrats

Nashville -- In what might be described as the greatest comeback in Confederate political history, the Secretary of State, left for dead even within his own party as recently as this spring, secured the nomination of the Democratic Party to stand for President of the Confederate States.

It was no easy task though, requiring six full ballots of assembled convention, before the entire Georgia delegation was persuaded to vote en-bloc for Mr. Wilson, cementing him the required majority.

Governor Colquitt, clearly chagrined by the development, nonetheless managed what was both a heartfelt and a rousing concession speech well after one o'clock in the morning local time, saying "no matter the recent enmity of our campaigns, I can say personally that I believe that Secretary Wilson will be a superb President, and that he will have my vote in November."

Observers noted the concilliatory tone of Colquitt's speech, as for much of the primary season he'd spoken against Wilson's "Words not War" foreign policy outlook, openly opining that Wilson's policies would make the nation less safe and less prosperous than it has been under Roosevelt.

Wilson in his acceptance departed little from his standard stump speech, noting that "the Nassau agreement has made us safe, and given us the opportunity to mend fences with our neighbors and former foes, secure in the knowledge that as a member of the strongest alliance in the world that no one dares attack us."

The near miracle that Wilson's nomination is, it will pale in comparison to what a miracle his election might be. While finally catching and passing a Colquitt campaign that fizzled down the stretch, he faces now the Roosevelt juggernaut which will be the best financed campaign in history, and which benefits from a candidate enjoying a sixty percent approval rating among voters. It remains to be seen if Wilson's message of reduced military spending, increased "positive diplomacy" and increased economic development will resonate with the voters in November.

[Guinness]

July 24, 1916

It was a rare time when both the Republican nominee for President, incumbent President Theodore Roosevelt, and the Democratic nominee for President, Secretary of State Woodrow Wilson were in the same city. It was even rarer indeed when they were in the same building. But such as it was on the afternoon of July 24, when the President was just returning from a ten day whistlestop tour of of the Confederacy as part of his campaign, and the Secretary was just about to board his own train South toward Atlanta and points in Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi for his own round of speeches and fund raisers.

So it was convenient when one of the Secretary's aids stepped out of the brand new Hanson saloon and ran at a full sprint into Richmond's main street station, finding the Secretary just about to board the Southern Railways express to Atlanta.

"Sir, before you leave, you need to see this!" The aid handed the Secretary the sheet of paper he'd been carrying.

Wilson read it, eyes opening wide. "Did we know that the situation in southeast asia had gotten this bad?" He turned to his personal aid, who was carrying his briefcase.

"No sir. Well, we'd heard things. Unsubstantiated reports. Some stuff via the Green Cross. Nothing official. As you know, we have very little presence in the region."

"Well, if the Colombians have declared war, we surely do have reason to be concerned, don't we?" The Secretary observed.

"I'll have to inform the President immediately. Where is he?"

Wilson's aid flipped through a number of sheets of paper in a folder he was carrying, before finding what he was looking for. Marked across the top was "CONFIDENTIAL", and the next line down "Presidential Itinerary, July 24 1916". The aid then looked up at the large clock at the end of the platform.

"Sir, it says he's arrived here, just three minutes ago, assuming the train was on-time."

There was a bit of a scramble as Wilson's travelling secretary hustled off to the information booth to inquire if the express from Nashville and Roanoke was on time. Several comments such as "why can't he just wait his turn" were heard among those waiting in the line. Still he go the data he needed. The President's train was just entering the station.

Returning at a trot, the aid yelled out "Four minutes late, Mr. Secretary. Track Five. Arriving now."

Wilson, followed by a small platoon of aids, campaign staff, and security personnel, bee lined for Track Five just as the train was pulling in. He could see the presidential car just in front of the caboose.

It took only a couple of minutes before the President, having been alerted to the Secretary's need to speak with him, stepped off the train.

"Woodrow! My good man. So good to see you! How goes the campaigning? I hope they aren't keeping you to a schedule as busy as they are keeping me!"

Roosevelt, smiling, stuck out his hand to Wilson and gave the Secretary a brief but strong hand shake.

Wilson fumbled for a moment before regaining his composure. He hadn't spoken personally to the president in several months, and found his exuberant cordiality disarming.

"Mr. President, this was just brought to me." He handed Roosevelt the copy of the Colombian declaration.

"I'll be, I knew the Iberians were upset with the Chinese, but war? And the Colombians following! That is something! Well Woodrow, campaign or no campaign, I expect this will have to be dealt with."

Roosevelt turned to his Chief of Staff. "We'll have to meat with the Admirals and Generals. Find out if there's any chance this could all be a Colombian ruse. I know they've been making noise about being more friendly..." smirking at Wilson, "but with the business in Mesoamerica, I think we had better not just trust them. Maybe we should deploy some ships to keep on eye on their major units, just in case?"

And with that, and another crushing Presidential handshake for the Secretary, the two men were off. News such as this barely made a dent in either man's campaigning schedules.

[Guinness]

The following statement was issued via all Confederate embassies and consulates, and delivered to all Confederate-flagged shipping companies, and posted in select newspapers starting on July 25, 1916:

Due to the detereorating situation in the Southeast Asian region, the Confederate State Department strongly recommends that all merchant shipping avoid the area until further notice. Particular care should be taken in the vicinities of Rangoon, Macau, Hong Kong, and the entirety of the Philippines.

Ships flying the Confederate flag are and should continue to be considered neutral in any conflict taking place in Southeast Asia. Any ships flying the Confederate flag who are harassed or otherwise interfered with unlawfully on the high seas should report such incidents as soon as possible via Confederate embassies or consulates or to the designated diplomatic representative of the Confederate States of America at the nearest convenient place of landfall.

Additionally, the follow orders were issued on or about July 25:

From: CinC Confederate Navy
To: Commanding Officers, S-28, S-38
Cc: Commanding Officers, 2nd and 4th Coast Defense Region

Effectively immediately, S-28 and S-38 are detached from usual duties, and ordered to proceed immediately to the vicinity of Cartagena, Gran Colombia and the Pacific exit of the Darien Canal (respectively). The mission is to observe closely Colombian fleet movements, reporting via wireless transmission all observed movements. Use all means at your disposal to make observations, but at no time enter Colombian territorial waters. Avoid confrontation with Colombians, but assert right to navigation in international waters when necessary.

From: CinC Confederate Navy
To: Commanding Officer, Confederate Battlefleet
To: Commanding Officer, Confederate Scouting Force

Effective immediately, all ships under you command should be ready to sail on 4 hours notice.

From: CinC Confederate Navy
To: Commanding Officers, 1st and 2nd Marine Divisions

Effective immediately, all leaves should be canceled, and the Marine Corps should be placed at the highest state of readiness.

From: CinC Confederate Navy
To: All Commands

A state of war now exists between Gran Colombia and her allies and the Reformist Republic of China. While we have no reason to doubt Colombian intentions, we must nonetheless be ready, just in case. I have issued specific orders to a number of ships and commands in relation to these events, but the entirety of the Confederate Navy should adopt a higher state of readiness. Take care to inform your men of these events, and your expectations, as well as mine, of their conduct in the coming days and weeks. Should the unthinkable happen, we the Navy are the first line of defense.

From: CinC Confederate Army
To: All Commands

A state of war has existed between Gran Colombia and the Reformist Republic of China since July 22. All active Corps should do what is necessary to prepare themselves for action, should the call come. Leaves for active duty personnel are canceled for at least the next two weeks.

[Guinness]

Excerpts from a hearing in the Confederate House of Representatives Naval Strategy and Acquisitions Subcommittee. Speaking before the Committee is Commander Albert Atkins, author of a report on future Cruiser requirements.

Chairman Owens (D-GA): "Commander Attinborough, thank you for your time."

Cmdr. Atkins: "Thank you Mr. Chairman. With your permission, I'd like to proceed directly to my opening remarks."

Chairman Owens nods his assent.

"Gentleman, thank you all for inviting me here today. I'd like first to summarize the goals and findings of my report. As you know, my report was commissioned by the Admiralty, and sponsored by Admiral Owens, chairman of the Committee on Ships. I was asked to review, in light of recent deployments, our needs and capabilities with regard to missions typically accomplished by ships the Confederacy knows as cruisers.

In short, my finding was that our currently large and diverse fleet of cruisers has served us well, but that new technologies and our alliance with France, the Normans, and Italia have altered our requirements for future construction somewhat. It should also change how we categorize our ships going forward."

In response to a question regarding his findings as to classifications of cruisers:

"Today, we have four classifications of active or reserve 'cruiser-type' ships. These are in descending order by displacement, First Class Cruisers armed with 9.2" 380 pounder guns and larger, Second Class Cruisers armed with 7.5" 200 pounder guns or 6" 100 pounder guns, 3rd class cruisers armed with 6" 100 pounder guns or the newer 5.5" 75 pounder, and Frigates, which generally carry guns smaller than the 75 pounder. No new Frigate has been built since the beginning of this century, and all are considered obsolete. Indeed, some of the newest have already been converted to Torpedo Ram and Boat tenders.

"In the future, my recommendation is to retain the first through third-class categories, but to change our understanding of them. First class cruisers should be the largest ships. Their mission is primarily support of the battlefleet, through tactical scouting, acting as a fast wing of the battlefleet, or indeed standing in line themselves under limited circumstances. In peacetime their large size and range would allow them to serve in flag-showing missions. For examples of these, one might refer to how the Colombians have recently employed their large armored cruisers. In terms of equipment and fittings, they should be equipped as battleships are for flag use.

"Second class cruisers, which would generally be smaller than first class cruisers, would have a primary missions many of those missions that we have traditionally used our largest cruisers for. These would include strategic scouting, trade protection, and trade interdiction. Secondarily they might also serve the battlefleet as tactical scouts, and in peacetime would also be quite capable of missions of national prestige. We expect that they should also have limited flag facilities.

"Third class cruisers would be smaller still. Their primary mission would be screening and scouting for the battleline. Their secondary missions would be trade warfare and supporting or leading groups of Torpedo Rams. They have less need for flag facilities as the larger groups, and would carry only limited extra facilities for an officer in charge of a 3rd class cruiser squadron or torpedo ram squadron.

We see little use, in the future, for the Frigate category to describe any sort of cruiser. In theory, it might be used to describe a ship like a cruiser in all attributes except speed, but as of now we see little use for such a ship. My colleagues in the Torpedo Ram community though have expressed that they might like to adopt the term to describe a planned ship thus far known as a 'Torpedo Ram Leader."

Next, Cmdr. Atkins was asked how these delineations of types and missions might be expressed in ship attributes and numbers:

"The prototypical first class cruiser in the Confederate Navy is the new Enterprise class. A first class cruiser would have battleship guns, but be slightly less armored and much faster than a battleship. This means that it will be invariably larger than an equivalent battleship, as we see when we compare Enterprise to the Oklahoma and New Mexico class battleships. Today, we see two Enterprise class ships as sufficient to fulfill the needs for the role, acting as the core of the Scouting Force. It might though be necessary to procure a third ship of the type so that we might be assured of having at least two in full service at any one time. However, when examining the trends in armament, speed, armor, and range among battleships, it is conceivable, even likely that ships of the Enterprise type might be eclipsed by a future fully armored fast battleship. At any rate, in the future, we recommend that the Navy have only two or three first class cruisers.

"We have today a number of ships that we might consider in the future to be second class ships. These include ships the Davis class, formerly considered first class ships, as well as the Hatchitigbee, Mobile, and Buchanon class ships. We recommend fully refurbishing the Buchanon class, while refitting the Mobiles. Please see Appendix B of my report, entitled 'Future class strength and refit needs.' Second class ships in the future would generally have any guns larger than the 6" 100 pounder, and smaller than capital ship guns.

"Finally we have the third class cruisers. We recommend that after refit, the Rattlesnake class be considered third class because of both their armament and mission, joining the other ships so considered.

"So in numbers, we would today have two first class cruisers, ten second class cruisers, and twenty-four third class cruisers. Ultimate force strength for requirements might be in the future three first class cruisers, fifteen second class cruisers, and thirty third class cruisers."

Asked about ships to be disposed of:

"Many other uses might be found for many of these ships, but my report recommends that the former first class cruisers of the Stuart class, the former third class cruisers of the 'Saint' class, and all ships currently classified as frigates are surplus to requirements."

When asked what future attributes each type might have:

"If you would refer to Appendix C of my report for those details, I will remind you that the Navy Department has classified that information such that if you'd like to discuss it, I'd request that we do so in closed session. I can sum up safely without security risk though that it seems clear that all ships of these types can be expected to grow faster, cruise at a faster speed, and carry more fuel than those currently in service."

The hearing then adjourned for lunch, and reconvened in closed session to discuss details of future acquisition requests.

[Guinness]

Some time in September, 1916

Percy LeVille rubbed his jaw for the thousandth time since the wiring had come out. It still felt... weird. He hadn't even noticed it was broken until after Smith had retrieved him from that Mesoamerican outpost.

Still, LeVille thought, life could be worse than this, as he looked out over the unspoiled vista of clean white beach and crystal clear blue water that laid out before him. He took of a sip of the excellent lemonade that Pearl, the negro woman that had been assigned to look after his needs had made up for him. Definitely could be worse.

Following the ordeal in Mesoamerica, Smith had taken LeVille, Clark and Gomez first on horseback, then by car through Loredo, Texas to San Antonio, where their immediate medical needs were taken care of. From there, they'd traveled via rail to Houston and New Orleans, where they were met by three men LeVille did not recognize, but presumed worked for the State Department's Bureau of Information. After a day of casual debriefing, it was decided that Clarke and Gomez should continue home to Key West and the care (and debriefing) of the Navy, while the State Department would continue to care for LeVille. This made sense too, as LeVille was in materially worse condition than the other two, mostly because they'd gone into it in much better shape, and also because of what LeVille referred to (much to his companions' amusement) as his glass jaw.

So, as the Navy men had gotten on another train headed eventually south, LeVille was shipped out again, with his newly wired jaw, to Pensacola, where he disembarked, and then was driven over rough sea-shell roads and beach to the little village with the expansive sea view. The locals called it "Camp Walton", though it hardly existed on any maps.

While there, a new team of men from an unknown agency had asked him more questions. This had been a casual affair, as LeVille wasn't really up for more than an hour or two of debriefing at a time, and many times it seemed the boys in Florida had to step away to send telegrams to Richmond, something that usually took a day, since the nearest telegraph station was a couple of hours away by car or horse. LeVille chuckled to himself as he remembered it all. He'd thought if anything, he'd have been the one in Richmond on the other end of those telegrams.

He passed the considerable spare time at first mostly by catching up on the newspapers. Someone would usually bring him a day old copy of one of the Pensacola papers, or much more to his preference, a two day old copy of the New Orleans Times. He noticed after a couple of days that he usually read the same news in all these papers on the same day, which meant the Pensacola papers were generally another day behind the Times. Plus the Times had better baseball coverage.

Sooner or later the debriefings tailed off, and he began to feel better. LeVille resolved to take better care of himself, and once he felt up to it, and the wire came out of his jaw, he'd begun swimming in the immaculate sea, and despite the worse sun-burn of his entire life, was soon tan, and he thought, fitter than he'd ever been. Of course, losing thirty pounds as a result of his trip to Mesoamerica didn't hurt either.

But when word came from Richmond that it was time to leave for home, he met it with a combination of dread and excitement. This was bolstered by the daily headlines he'd been reading. "Twelve more dead in Mesoamerican bombing" one had read. "Mesoamerican government powerless to stop bloodshed" read another. Still, almost all of these headlines had come from Tenochtitlan or the cities in the south. He'd read of nothing that he'd have ascribed to Villa's men. This dovetailed nicely with the focus of his later conversations with the debriefers: just who, if anyone is Villa loyal to, and what's his aim. LeVille hadn't the foggiest idea either.

Pearl interrupted his daydreaming: "Mr. LeVille. It's gettin on time to get ready to go. They had said they would come pick you up at around two."

"Yes, thank you Pearl. I sure wish we had some vessel so I could take some of this lemonade with me on the road."

Pearl just smiled. LeVille knew she'd be happy to get back to tending to her flock of babies and grandbabies. He knew all about them now, after Pearl's countless orations of their adventures.

The day before, he'd been brought a white linen suit, the pants of which were several inches smaller in the waist then he'd worn before. Percy put that on and paired it with the broad-brimmed Texas-style hat Smith had given him before he'd left him in New Orleans. He then packed up the various and sundries he'd been provided in a small briefcase, and was ready for the trip. It would be almost three days, assuming the trains were running on time, before he was back in Richmond, where he honestly had no idea what he'd find.

[Guinness]

continued...

LeVille's journey from Florida to Richmond was long, but uneventful. One of the men who'd debriefed him drove him to Pensacola, where he boarded a train to Mobile. There he'd had to change for a train to Atlanta, and from there another train to Richmond. It would have all been a lot tougher if the government hadn't provided him with a private room on all but the Pensacola to Mobile leg, and if LeVille had any luggage to speak of.

At Richmond's Main Street Station, he was greeted by another man who said he was from the State Department, and drove him in a smart brand new Hanson sedan to the little house LeVille had been renting in the West End. It only now occurred to LeVille he hadn't paid rent in months and had no key. The State Department man did have a key, and let him in, where among other things, LeVille found the still packed suitcase he'd taken to Key West and onto S-10. "Be dressed and ready to leave at 8:15 in the morning", the State Department man said as he left, leaving the key on the table inside the door. Came out of my luggage I guess, LeVille thought.

He also found that all the food (such as it was) that had been in cabinets had been cleaned out and replaced. There was even a cold pint of milk in the milkbox at the front door he realized. Had the milkman been coming all these months every day?

Looking further, he found all his mail from the time neatly stacked on the little desk in the living room. In his bedroom, he found the bed made (which certainly was not how he left it), and hanging on the hook behind the door, a brand new dark grey light-wool suit, shirt, and tie. Resting on the floor next to dresser were his black dress shoes, freshly polished. Well they sure did think of everything, LeVille thought.

After perusing both the afternoon editions of the Richmond papers, and that day's Atlanta Constitution, all of which he'd bought at Main Street station, LeVille had a light meal of cheese and crackers and fruit, and fell into his own bed, sleeping soundly.

The next day, he bathed and dressed in the new suit, which fit him perfectly. This was strange, as he didn't remember anyone ever taking his measurements, and yet both of his new suits had been just right. Pearl maybe.

He was having a cup of coffee when the State Department man arrived at his door promptly at eight-fifteen. It was a nearly thirty minute trip through Richmond morning traffic before they'd arrived at their destination: the Confederate Executive Mansion.

The State Department man passed LeVille off to a member of the President's staff, who showed LeVille to what was clearly a waiting room of some sort. LeVille then snacked on coffee, biscuits and preserves while he waited. At promptly nine, the large double doors at both ends of the room opened, and as other men began to stream by, LeVille realized he'd been waiting in the anteroom of the Confederate Cabinet Room.

"Please, Mr. LeVille, come in, and have a seat by the windows." one of the aids invited him. LeVille found the seat along the outer elipse of chairs behind those arranged around the Cabinet Room's table. General small talk emanated from the table, as a few more lower-level aids found seats on either side of LeVille. Looking around, LeVille recognized the Chief of Staff of the Army and his opposite number from the Navy, the Secretaries of War and Commerce, and the Undesecretary of State. Missing was the Secretary himself, who LeVille overheard was "campaigning, in, of all places, Albany Georgia. His campaign people are really starting to think they could win this thing."

Everyone abruptly stood up, and LeVille followed suit, when President Roosevelt and his private secretary entered the room. The President found his seat with his back to the wall opposite the long window where LeVille was sitting, and everyone else sat down. Briefing books were passed out.

"Gentlemen" the President's private secretary began: "you've all been asked here to discuss the Mesoamerican situation. Included in your materials are the minutes from the last meeting on that subject last week, where it was resolved that options be presented to the President."

Roosevelt interrupted: "Before we get into our options, could you please catch us all up as to the present situation, also I see a new face, so maybe introductions are in order?" Roosevelt was looking right at LeVille.

LeVille swallowed, then opened his mouth to introduce himself, when the Undersecretary, sitting with his back to LeVille beat him to it. "Sir, this is Mr. LeVille, who's name I'm sure you'll recognize from recent briefings on Mesoamerica. He is, in short, the closest thing we have now to an expert on Pancho Villa, and I thought he might be useful for this discussion."

"Excellent. Excellent. Pleasure to meet you Mr. LeVille." The President nodded in LeVille's direction. LeVille's heart must have been beating one-hundred and fifty beats per minute.

"Mr. President" another of the men sitting along the window stood up. "The situation in Mesoamerica has not changed appreciably, by which I mean it is still bad." This man moved toward a large map of Mesoamerica on the wall to the President's left, at the far end of the room from the double doors. It was annotated in various ways. "The small scale attacks and actions against organs of the state and large gatherings continue. Our embassy people report that in Tenochtitlan there have even been protests breaking out, not in support of those carrying out the attacks, but against the government for its powerlessness. The Mesoamerican Army has been deployed fruitlessly in some areas, and even taken losses of it's own in street fighting, but is largely sitting still. The rumor in the capital is that individual corps and division level officers are simply refusing orders to leave their camps. We have not yet been able to confirm these however. The trend seems to indicate that the rebels continue to be well organized and well equipped."

"So we have not yet confirmed Colombian sponsorship of all this?" The President asked.

The Undersecretary responded: "No sir, but the circumstantial evidence, including data collected in the field, and from Mr. LeVille's and his companions' debriefing strongly indicates that the Colombians have at least been supplying some of these groups. We do believe that we should assume the Colombians have had a significant hand in all this. In fact, some of our smarter people have begun to theorize that the whole operation originated with the Colombians, but possibly got out of hand somehow."

The President made a queer face, then looked to the military men: "What is our situation?"

"Sir, our strategic disposition has not changed since last week. We still have the one armored cruiser at Cancun with an enlarged detachment of Marines ashore to look out for our interests there. Other than the kidnapping..." this time it was the Admiral's turn to look at LeVille, "we've had no significant incidents in Cancun."

"So I assume the Army is still at it's peacetime stations then as well?" The President asked. "Yes sir." was the reply from the General.

"The Colombians?" The President asked.

The Admiral answered: "We believe they are still vulnerable. Large components of their fleet are only now beginning to return from the far east. If we had to steam out of Key West and confront them today, we'd be materially superior in major ships. They know that too, of course."

"And of course, it will be some time until they stand all the way down from their mobilization." The General added.

"Ok, what are our options?" The President asked.

A Naval officer, a Captain LeVille noted, stood up and walked toward the large Mesoamerican map, and another map set up on an easel of the Caribbean region in general. "Gentleman, if you refer to your briefing books, the details are there. I'll address each option in general."

"Option one is invasion and complete occupation of Mesoamerica. This is relatively straightforward. We expect the Second and Third armies would push across the border, while we land the Marines at some combination of Veracruz and Acapulco. If the Mesoamerican army offers no or little resistance, we expect to hold Tenochtitlan in a matter of weeks. If they do fight, it could be much more difficult, of course. We would hold the First Army in reserve for that case, and fully mobilize as a precaution."

The Captain looked up to see if there were any questions, and there weren't so he went on.

"Option two is a more limited action against Mesoamerica. The Second Army pushes in with the goal of taking a line from Mazatlan to Durango to Torreon, thus establishing a new border. The Marines are put ashore in Cancun, with the goal of taking a much larger safe territory on the Yucatan. Thus we believe Confederate interests would be secured, no matter who ends up running the rest of Mesoamerica."

Another look up, still no questions, so he continued.

"Option three is for the case where we expect direct Colombian intervention. We fully mobilize preemptively, and sortee the Battlefleet and Scouting force south. The best case is the Colombians steam out to meet us, and we defeat them. If not, we establish patrols off Cartagena, and the main force retires north. We're quite concerned about mines and submarines in this case. On land, we mount essentially the same attack along the border as expected in plan two. The Marines instead of landing at Cancun land in Cuba."

This time, there was a pained look from the President. "Cuba?"

"Yes sir. You can see the details of that operation in your briefing book. I can go over it if you'd like."

"No, no, what I mean, is why Cuba?"

The Admiral answered this question. "Sir, we believe that even if we hold only a small portion of the Island, President Alizandro will see it as a matter of honor to retake it. This would reroute whatever resources they might put into the DRM there, and possibly afford our fleet the opportunity to sink his in the process. The worst case is the expend a considerable amount of energy there, while we push deeper into Mesoamerica unmolested by the Colombians. You'll also note there is a 3a, whereby instead of Cuba the attack takes place in Puerto Rico. We believe the Iberians are suitably distracted in Asia right now."

The President folded his hand in front of him for a moment. "And option four?"

The Undersecretary spoke this time. "Option four is a purely diplomatic one. We attempt to build a coalition of states interested in new popular elections in Mesoamerica. Rohan, of course, should figure prominently in that, but as you know they've grown increasingly isolated of late."

"It seems that the success of these options hinges on what we believe the Mesoamerican army will do, and also on whether or not Villa organizes resistance against us or helps us." The President observed, and received nods around the table. "We don't know much about either question, do we? LeVille, tell us about Pancho Villa."

LeVille gulped. Then spoke. "Villa is on one hand coldly calculating and on the other driven by his passions. He professes to a desire to build functioning state in Mesoamerica founded on Christian principals as well as Democracy and Capitalism, but at the same time says that he does not believe that Mesoamerica's neighbors would ever allow a true Democracy to take root there. One thing we no for sure is he hates and wishes to eradicate all traces of the Eye from Mesoamerica and elsewhere. All that said, I suspect the real question here is: can we trust him? I don't know. We first need to ascertain whether his translator, who was apparently at the head of the group that kidnapped me was working with Villa's knowledge or not."

The President leafed through a report he had in front of him alongside the briefing manual. "It says here that Mr. Smith told the debriefers that man, one Sr. Grossa de Hermasillo? Is that right? That Mr. Smith said he contacted him directly through channels different from those that Villa usually used. Do we think that means this man was acting on his own?"

The Undersecretary answered: "Unkown sir. We don't believe we can infer either way from that data."

The President looked right at LeVille. "I think we need to approach the Villa question straight on: let's ask him. What does the Confederate States need to do to attain his loyalty? I can think of no one better positioned for such a mission than you, Mr. LeVille."

[Desertfox]

If it comes to war and you need names of Mexica generals and their tactics, just let me know.