“Why will it never be done again?”
“Because the conditions will never be right again. Armies will be suspicious after one has been wiped out, but the first time it’s possible.”
“How can you be sure von Hindenburg’s army will cross the Susquehanna at the exact place where you want it to cross?”
“They will cross at the clearly indicated place for crossing, won’t they? That’s where we have set our trap, five miles wide, on the direct line between Philadelphia and Baltimore. They can’t cross lower down because the river swells into Chesapeake Bay, and if they cross higher up they simply go out of their way. Why should they? They’re not afraid to meet Leonard Wood’s little army, are they? They’ll come straight across the river and then—good-night.”
This was as near as I could get to an understanding of the mystery. Astor would tell me no more, although he knew I would die rather than betray the secret.
“You might talk in your sleep,” he laughed. “I wish I didn’t know the thing myself. It’s like going around with a million dollars in your pocket.” Then he added earnestly: “There are a lot of American cranks and members of Bryan’s peace party who wouldn’t stand for this if they knew it.”
“You mean they would tell the Germans?”
“They would tell everybody. They’d call it barbarous, wicked. Perhaps it is, but—we’re fighting for our lives, aren’t we? For our country?”
“Sure we are,” I agreed.
Later on Mr. Astor told me how he had come into possession of this extraordinary military knowledge. He was one of the Committee of Twenty-one.