Free Dark Invasion: 1915: Germany's Secret War and the Hunt for the First Terrorist Cell in America by Howard Blum Page A

his troops off to the front in the first week of August with the assurance, “You will be home before the leaves have fallen from the trees.” After the defeat at the first Battle of the Marne on September 12, 1914, there were the inevitable cruel whispers that the kaiser was, of course, referring to Germany’s pine trees.
    Now that a long, protracted conflict was a certainty, now that it was apparent that the German high command’s concept of a short war had been little more than wishful pride, America’s strategic importance intensified. In a war of attrition, the United States held the key to victory: the side that had access to the American marketplace had a significant advantage.
    The warships of the British navy made it impossible for Germany to receive shipments of food, munitions, explosives, and other vital supplies. Von Bernstorff’s network would have to make sure that Germany’s enemies also could not obtain shipments from America.
    A flurry of flash-coded cables, approved by an anxious Nicolai, went out from the Foreign Office to the Washington embassy:
    “It is indispensable to recruit agents to organize explosions on ships sailing to enemy countries, in order to cause delays in the loading, the departure, and the unloading of these ships.”
    Then: “In United States sabotage can reach all kinds of factories for war deliveries . . . under no circumstances compromise Embassy.”
    And another: “We draw your attention to the possibility of recruiting . . . agents among the anarchist labor organizations.”
    And still another: “Secret. General staff desires energetic action in regard to proposed destruction of the Canadian Pacific Railroad at several points, with a view to complete and protracted interruption of travel.”
    With this persistent drumbeat of cables in his heart and mind, von Bernstorff had no choice but to go to war.

Chapter 11
    D etermined to make his mark, the ambitious von Papen desperately wanted to mount the sort of derring-do operation that would attract the high command’s attention. But the murky pool of available freelance talent gave him little confidence. The military attaché found the man he was looking for in Mexico, on the run from the federales after breaking out of a Chihuahua jail.
    Horst von der Goltz was a Nicolai-trained professional who had taken to the Great Game as if it were truly just merry sport. In rapid succession there were missions to steal a treaty from the home of a Russian prince, a tense adventure in the back streets of Madrid, and a long-running operation in Paris where he’d blackmailed an army captain with a gambling problem on the French general staff.
    His next assignment to Mexico was much less successful. The authorities were on to him from the start, and after a brutal interrogation, he wound up in a Chihuahua penitentiary. He endured two hard months that tested his resolve. When he finally managed to escape, he took with him a lingering resentment against a German secret service that had done nothing to rescue him. Upon arriving in Mexico City, he sent a terse telegram to the headquarters at Königsplatz, announcing his resignation.
    Von der Goltz was a freelance soldier of fortune, fighting against the federales with whatever Mexican rebel band would pay the highest price for his services, when he was approached in a cantina. A disheveled-looking man in a dingy white suit came to his table and portentously announced that he’d been sent by the German consul in El Paso, Texas.
    “The consul wishes to ask you one question, and the answer is yes or no,” the man went on with an officiousness that made von der Goltz bristle. “In case your government wanted your services again, could she expect to receive them?”
    Von der Goltz, although still bitter, answered without hesitation: “In case of war—yes.”
    Two weeks later, a telegram arrived from the consul in El Paso. There was only one word: “Come.”
    In El Paso, von der Goltz was