My adventures as a German secret agentGoltz, Horst von der
History
My adventures as a German secret agent
Goltz, Horst von der
Secret service -- Germany; World War, 1914-1918 -- Secret service -- Germany
While I stood there imagining these things, he spoke of our aims in
Europe and in America and of the things that must be done to bring them
to success. He bade me tell him the various details of our affairs
in Mexico and the United States; and he, like Köhnemann, was chiefly
interested in Mexico. It was in fact, almost suspicious, his interest was
so great; and I could explain it only in one way—that he viewed Mexico as
the ultimate battlefield of Japan and the United States in the next great
struggle—the struggle for the mastery of the Pacific. For just as Belgium
has been the battlefield of Europe, so must Mexico be the battleground of
America in that war which the future seems to be preparing.
I remember wondering, as he spoke of what might come to pass, at the
tremendous familiarity he displayed with the points of view of the
peoples and governments of both Americas. I had thought myself well
acquainted with conditions in both continents; but here was a man
separated by thousands of miles from the peoples of whom he talked, whose
knowledge was, nevertheless, more correct, as I saw it, than that of
anyone—Dernburg not excepted—whom I had met.
It was then, I think, that he told me what Germany wished of me,
outlining briefly those things which he thought I could do best.
“You can serve us,” he said, “in Turkey or in America. In the one you
will have an opportunity to fight as thousands of your countrymen are
fighting. In the other, you will have chosen a task that is not so
pleasant perhaps, and not less dangerous, but which will always be
regarded honorably by your Emperor, because it is work that must be done.
Which do you choose?”
I hesitated a moment.
“It shall be as your Majesty wishes,” I said finally.
He looked at me closely before he spoke again. “It is America, then.”
And then, as I bowed in acquiescence, he spoke once more—for the last
time so far as my ears are concerned.
“I must be ready by 7; my train leaves at 7.10. I may never see you
again, but I shall always know that you have done your duty. Good-bye.”
And so I left him—this man who is a menace to his people, not because
he is vicious or from any criminal intent; not, I believe, because his
personal ambitions are such that his country must bleed to satisfy them;
but merely because his mind is the outcome of a system and an education
so divorced from fact that he could not see the evil of his own position
if it were explained to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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