Fall of Giants

Grigori knew, from Konstantin’s discussion group, that the German plan was to conquer France first and then deal with Russia. The Germans were not surrendering, they were choosing the best time to fight. Even so, it would be surprising if they were to give up this prime territory without a struggle.

“What part of Germany is this, Your Honor?” he asked Tomchak.

“They call it East Prussia.”

“Is it the wealthiest part of Germany?”

“I don’t think so,” said the lieutenant. “I see no palaces.”

“Are ordinary people in Germany rich enough to live in homes such as these?”

“I suppose they are.”

Evidently Tomchak, who looked as if he was barely out of school, did not know much more than Grigori.

Grigori walked on, but he felt demoralized. He had thought himself a well-informed man, but he had had no idea that the Germans lived so well.

It was Isaak who voiced his doubts. “Our army is already having trouble feeding us, even though not a single shot has yet been fired,” he said quietly. “How can we possibly fight against people who are so well organized that they keep their pigs in stone houses?”

{IV}

Walter was elated by events in Europe. There was every prospect of a short war and a quick victory for Germany. He could be reunited with Maud by Christmas.

Unless he died, of course. But, if that happened, he would die happy.

He shuddered with joy whenever he remembered the night they had spent together. They had not wasted precious moments sleeping. They had made love three times. The initial, heartbreaking difficulty had in the end only intensified their euphoria. In between lovemaking they had lain side by side, talking and idly caressing one another. It was a conversation unlike any other. Anything Walter could say to himself, he could say to Maud. Never had he felt so close to another person.

Around dawn they had eaten all the fruit in the bowl and all the chocolates in the box. Then, at last, they had had to leave: Maud to sneak back into Fitz’s house, pretending to the servants that she had been out for an early walk; Walter to his flat, to change his clothes, pack a bag, and leave his valet instructions to ship the rest of his possessions home to Berlin.

In the cab on the short ride from Knightsbridge to Mayfair they had held hands tightly and said little. Walter had stopped the driver around the corner from Fitz’s house. Maud had kissed him once more, her tongue finding his in desperate passion, then she had gone, leaving him wondering if he would ever see her again.

The war had begun well. The German army was storming through Belgium. Farther south the French-led by sentiment rather than strategy-had invaded Lorraine, only to be mown down by German artillery. Now they were in full retreat.

Japan had sided with the French and British allies, which unfortunately freed up Russian soldiers in the far east to be switched to the European battlefield. But the Americans had confirmed their neutrality, to Walter’s great relief. How small the world had become, he reflected: Japan was about as far east as you could go, and America as far west. This war encircled the globe.

According to German intelligence, the French had sent a stream of telegrams to St. Petersburg, begging the tsar to attack, in the hope that the Germans might be distracted. And the Russians had moved faster than anyone expected. Their First Army had astonished the world by marching across the German border a mere twelve days after mobilization began. Meanwhile the Second Army invaded farther south, from the railhead at Ostrolenka, on a trajectory that would close the teeth of the pincers near a town called Tannenberg. Both armies were unopposed.

The uncharacteristic German torpor that allowed this to happen soon came to an end. The commander in chief in the region, General Prittwitz, known as der Dicke, the Fat One, was smartly fired by the high command and replaced by the duo of Paul von Hindenburg, summoned out of retirement, and Erich Ludendorff, one of the few senior military men without an aristocratic “von” to his name. At forty-nine, Ludendorff was also among the younger generals. Walter admired him for having risen so high purely on merit, and was pleased to be his intelligence liaison.

On the way from Belgium to Prussia they stopped briefly on Sunday, August 23, in Berlin, where Walter had a few moments with his mother on the station platform. Her sharp nose was reddened by a summer cold. She hugged him hard, shaking with emotion. “You are safe,” she said.

“Yes, Mother, I’m safe.”

“I’m terribly worried about Zumwald. The Russians are so close!” Zumwald was the von Ulrichs’ country estate in the east.

“I’m sure it will be all right.”

She was not so easily fobbed off. “I have spoken to the kaiserin.” She knew the kaiser’s wife well. “Several other ladies have done the same.”

“You should not bother the royal family,” Walter reproved her. “They already have so many worries.”

She sniffed. “We cannot abandon our estates to the Russian army!”