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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 23, 1941)
INSTALLMENT ONE CHAPTER I The erect middle-aged man in blue business suit who came briskly out of the White House paused re luctantly before the inquisitive press of correspondents. “Anything new on our rearma ment program, General?” one re porter wanted to know. Another asked, "Did the President have anything to say about Mex ico?” General Hague, Chief of Staff of the Army, had managed to dissipate with a calm smile that gravity in which he had emerged from confer ence with the President “There is nothing to give out, gen tlemen,” he said with quiet firm ness, and strode to his military se dan that was waiting in the drive way. The general’s car sped dff to the long, concrete Munitions Building on Constitution Avenue that houses the War Department. General Hague hurried to his offices on the second floor and instructed his aide-de camp to summon Colonel Flagwill. In a few minutes Flagwill, acting assistant chief of staff G-2, in charge of military intelligence, re ported in from another wing. “Sit down, Flagwill,” the gen eral invited. “The President has just decided to go to the bottom of this Mexican situation.” Flagwill’s lean, aquiline face re mained impassive except for a quick gleam of fire in his piercing black eyes. “That’s good news, sir!” he ex claimed; and added in a quiet voice: “In that connection, my section has Just completed our final estimate of the situation based on all present available information. Would you care to hear my report now?” “Go ahead,” Hague invited. “I’ll be as brief as possible, sir. Our best estimate is 200,000 Euro pean regulars mobilized in Mexico. That covers organized infantry di visions, artillery, cavalry, tanks, air corps, and technical groups trans ported from Mediterranean ports during the past six months, together with some reservist infantry assem bled from South American points. To all outward appearances they fully support the arguments of the new Mexican dictatorship that, as a part of the Mexican military forces, these troops are not the concern of the United States.” General Hague’s straight mouth parted in a cynical smile. “There is the big rub, Flagwill. The Mexican version has so ration alized their European army that the American public falls for the fiction completely. It almost has our State Department fooled, even when our ambassador knows the real com mander in Mexico is Van Hassek, one of the smartest tacticians of the old Imperial Army." “The subterfuge is obvious, sir," Flagwill averred. “My whole section agrees that the United States faces attack from Van Hassek's army." General Hague somberly nodded his head. “I agree perfectly with your de ductions, Flagwill, and informed the President pretty mftch to the same effect today. He is very gravely con cerned and wants the facts as quick ly as possible. ('But what can the President do unless Congress is con vinced and facts are available for the public?” “In the meantime, General, are we to reinforce our border garri sons for defense in event attack comes sooner than expected?" The Chief of Staff groaned and said: “The President doesn’t dare order troop concentrations now, Flagwill. Congress would probably refuse him an appropriation for transportation. He’d be accused of saber-rattling.” Flagwill mopped his brow and said slowly: “I see it all, sir. Just what’s our move, please?” “To collect facts. Our ambassador to France has something very se cret hatched up with the French se cret service. A chance to slip one of our officers into the Mexican serv ice at Mexico City. Our first move is to select our man and send him to Paris to get his detailed instruc tions. It’s very important that we pick the right man for this, a man with plenty of brains and backbone. I rather had young Benning in mind.” "An excellent choice,” Flagwill promptly agreed. "But right now I’ve got Captain Benning down in San Antonio. Investigating another Capt. Allan Benning, U. S. G-2 Operative, poses as a fugitive murderer to learn the plan of attack on the United States via Mexico. Lucette Ducos, an unwel come ally, saves his life. Read this portentous novel. It is both timely and of patriotic significance! IN THIS PAPER F/tfTAGr rCN f AMER*cN By General ARED WHITE © A. WHIM WNU MBVICI A metallic click told him his weapon was empty. spy mess at Eighth Corps Area Headquarters.” "Better bring him back to Wash ington at once," General Hague de cided. “Instruct corps area to ship him by fast plane. Benning must sail from New York for France with out delay. That’s all, Flagwill." Captain Allan Benning, in civilian clothes, sat waiting in a battered old coupe just outside Fort Sam Hous ton. For two weeks past he had been following one of those slender threads of investigation that were in tended to connect local espionage ac tivities with the Van Hassek army in Mexico. Important secrets had been stolen from southern military headquarters at the fort. Not-least of these was the secret tables of organization of the proposed new American fighting division. Gone, too. was the file copy of army mobilization plans. Benning’s suspicion had centered promptly on a staff sergeant, Gau jos. Not by reason of any action on the part of the sergeant, but be cause of an eloquent intangible, the palpable inconsistency of Gaujos’ background, personality, and intelli gence with his present occupation. Gaujos was a man of forty, a Frenchman by birth, had served as a combat pilot with the French air corps during the World War. Three years ago he had taken out papers as an American citizen and enlisted in the army. At headquarters Gaujos’ superiors swore by him. He was highly com petent as an administrative clerk having supervision over half a doz en typists. To the casual observer Gaujos might have appeared a sat urnine, stolidly satisfied man who had given up the struggle for higher success and settled happily into his present little groove. His face was long, lean, and angular and with small, level black eyes in which there was no friendliness. With Benning, It had been a mat ter of baiting a trap. He had fabri cated a secret report that American reserves were being sent to the bor der and had it placed, the night be fore, where Gaujos would find it in the course of his duty today. Now Benning was waiting for Gaujos to leave the fort when the headquar ters crew knocked off work for the day. The suspected man took a bus into San Antonio and had dinner at a hotel. He engaged a taxicab and headed south out of the city. It was dusk when Gaujos left his taxicab and proceeded down the road on foot from a point south of the old county poor farm. Benning parked his own coupe by the roadside and held the trail from a discreet distance. The suspected masquerader turned sud denly off the road into a field. Ben ning recognized it as a field that did service or, occasion as an emergency landing-place for student fliers from Randolph Field. A fringe of willows lay along the road, and througl these Gaujos plunged with the de cisiveness of a man who knows where he is going. But Benning learned a few mo ments later that Gaujos was not off his guard. As the captain eased into the willows, a stab of flame blinded his eyes, the bark of a pistol clapped his ears. He dove to the ground, his right hand whipping his own service pistol into play and sent a bullet driving at the spot whence had come the attack. Then he lay tensely wait ing. The grim silence that followed was broken shortly by the kicking-over of a propeller out in the field, followed by the easy purr of a high-powered engine tuning for a take-off. As Benning leaped to his feet, his eyes made out, in the vague light, a figure zigzagging at high speed into the field. Aiming carefully he sent one bullet after another driving after the fugitive until a metallic click told him his weapon was empty. The runner made the plane, vault ed inside. Benning, now helpless to act, saw the shadowy plane wad dle down the stubble and roar into the sky. In a twinkling it was swal lowed up in the void of a Texas twilight. Benning swore under his breath at his ill luck, returned to his coupe, and drove to his hotel in San An tonio. There was a burn at his neck which told him of a close call with death. He examined it critically, de cided it was not serious enough to require an anti-tetanus treatment, and called the corps area G-2 offi cer, Lieutenant Colonel Bart, on the telephone. “Hard luck, sir,” he reported. “But at least the experience con firms a hot trail. No doubt Gaujos was a more important agent than we thought and it’s likely he has a team in San Antonio.” Bart replied crisply: “Meet me immediately at Kelly Field, Ben ning. Drive as fast as your fliv ver will take you.” When, fifteen minutes later, Ben ning sped up to the gate at the fly ing field. Lieutenant Colonel Bart was waiting in a military sedan into which he ushered the captain at once. "I’ve a fast plane waiting for you, Benning,” Bart announced. “You’re to return immediately to Washing ton—orders of the Chief of G-2.” Benning felt the rise of his pulse as they drove down along the rows of hangars to where a sleek new ob servation plane waited with spinning motors. A captain in flying togs was standing under the fuselage of the observation plane. Bart said to him: “Wallin, this is your passenger for Washington. You’re to deliver him there in the shortest possible time. That’s all, Captainl” In the sky there was the first rose glow of approaching sunrise when Benning made out, through the glass bottom of the plane, the wide silver ribbon of the Potomac. In the distance, Washington’s Monu ment stood sentinel over the sleep ing capital, the large round domes of Congress loomed up out of the granite and marble huddle of govern ment buildings. As the plane swung down for a landing at Bolling Field, he glimpsed the gray hulk that houses the State Department and, near-by, the trim outlines of the White House. CHAPTER II The plane swung back across the Anacostia and glided to a landing. Benning thanked the pilot for a safe journey north and sped by military sedan across the river into Washing ton. At the War Department he went to the second floor and reported to the G-2 section. Colonel Flagwill had come down early for Benning’s arrival. His placid, unemotional face broke in a slight smile and his eyes sparkled at sight of the young officer. He led the captain into a private office and closed the door. Without formality Flagwill said: "Someone must go into Mexico and get the facts, Benning. I needn’t remind you of the danger of such an enterprise. While I have thought of you for the detail, you need not ac cept unless you want to.” "Thanks for thinking of me. Colo nel,” Benning said with an easy smile. "When do you wish me to leave?" There was an approving gleam in the Flagwill eyes as he took from lis pocket a bulky sealed letter and landed it to Benning. "You’re sailing for Europe at elev en on the America. Available in formation is in this letter. When you’ve read it, destroy it by burn ing. You’d better take a commer cial plane to New York. Your boat reservations have been attended to. On landing at Southampton, cross the Channel to Le Havre and pro ceed to Paris by express. Our am bassador, Mr. Shields, will be ex pecting you in Paris. Any question, Benning?” “I think not, sir,” Benning said. “Good luck,” Flagwill said, rising. “Do a thorough job of it and get the Mexican picture back here as soon as possible, consistent with thor oughness. I'll have an officer at the airport with your tickets and ex pense money. That’s all, Captain.” The embassy staff had calculated to the minute when Benning was due to arrive from the Gare du Nord. No sooner had he dropped the bronze knocker than the embassy front door opened. A bespectacled male sec retary looked him over In sharp ap praisal and said. "You are the gen tleman we’re expecting?” “Captain Benning, just in from the United States,” the captain an swered. "Please come in," the secretary said. “Mr. Shields has reserved this hour and is waiting for you.” The ambassador was at the door of his reception room to receive his NEXT WEEK ALavdUtui 9*utaUm—tt visitor. Mr. Shields was a portly, ! smartly groomed man In late mid- . die life. His round, florid face was an Ingratiating smile as he invited Benning to a seat and tendered a cigarette. *Tm glad you’re here on the dot, Benning,” he said. “There’s quite a bit to be done in Paris, and you must be in Bordeaux tomorrow to catch your boat for Vera Crux.” Benning said, "I’m at your dis posal, sir." The ambassador regarded his vis itor with a certain whimsical wist fulness. He lighted a cigarette. "You know, Benning,” he said, "1 decidedly envy you this opportunity for distinguished service. I think I know what’s under the surface of things in Europe, but I can’t prove anything in the concrete way that's necessary. So you must go to Mex ico to do the Job.” “I’d suppose, sir,” Benning com mented, "that our government was informed at least of the larger dip lomatic facts." "Facts?” Shields echoed the word derisively. “But there's only one accepted fact in international rela tions today: that the maps are list ed for an overhaul. Outwardly ev eryone is praying for peace to come out of the current muddle. Under the surface the big question is. When will the lid blow off? We’re looking to you for the answer, Benning.” Benning’s eyes narrowed. "I’m not sure I understand, sir.” Mr. Shields laughed mirthlessly. "I’ll speak frankly. Why, after those devastating, murderous months of savage mass murder last year did the Coalition Powers patch up an armistice with the Allies while their armies squatted inconclusively on a mere segment of conquered Europe? Ostensibly to work out a peace formula to save civilization. But now everyone suspects the ar mistice is a Coalition subterfuge to shift some alignments, gather new forces, and—vastly more important —circumvent the United States from a disastrous armed intervention. I didn’t mean to get all steamed up on that subject, Benning. But in this grim world of reality in which I have to work, our smug provincial ism at home does get on my nerves at times, not to mention how it cramps our style. Getting down to your work, do you by any chance remember the case of a Lieutenant Bromlitz of our army who escaped some two years ago from the Unit ed States?” “Very distinctly, sir," Benning an swered at once. "Happened in my own regiment at Fort Jay. Brom litz was accused of stealing can teen funds. When ths adjutant ar rested him, Bromlitz knocked the adjutant down and, in his efforts to escape, shot and killed the corporal of the guard. By some black magic Bromlitz then* vanished into thin air.” "At the present moment,” Mr. Shields said, "Bromlitz is at the fortress of Vincennes, held incom municado by the French. They nipped him a few days ago when he arrived from Luxembourg as an army intelligence operative for the past year. It seems he had made connection with Van Hassek agents and was selected for the Mexican service.” Benning made a swift deduction and said dryly. “I assume, sir, that I am to go to Mexico masqueraded as an escaped murderer." "A very lucky break, Benning. We have the whole inside of it. Bromlitz is known to be an American with a record that strips him of any possi ble American loyalties. As a former American officer, Van Hassek no doubt thinks the fellow a valuable acquisition. Gave him the rank of major, which you now inherit.” "Isn’t it a bit extraordinary, sir, that the French learned all this?" Benning wanted to know. “Not when you consider the facts. Bromlitz. it appears,* has a flair for romance. He fell very much in love with a girl in Luxembourg, told her his plans, promised to send for her as soon as he could afford it.” “And she spilled the beans.” The ambassador smiled and said: “Why not? The French keep their ears to the ground and they’ve been paging Bromlitz since he first showed up in Luxembourg They put their cleverest she agent on him. a Mademoiselle Lucette Ducos. The French are turning Bromlitz’ pass ports and secret orders over to us You’ll need only to transfer your own photograph to the Bromlitz passports. The French have a spe cial process for doing this. At your convenience en route to Mexico you should practice his signature. 1 thought, too. you might want to look the fellow over to refresh your mem ory on his mannerisms.” Captain Benning thought briefly and got to his feet. “Very good, sir,” he said. "If that’s the game. I’m ready to go to Vincennes." The ambassador handed Benning a packet of papers, comprising the Bromlitz carte d’identite and several orders in German and Italian. A secretary came into the room to make a photograph of Benning for transfer to the Bromlitz passports. Benning then left the embassy and took a taxicab to Vincennes. Benning passed out of Paris through the Porte de Bercy and sped to the grim old walls of the ancient citadel. A sentry challenged at the gate, examined Benning’s creden tials, and sent him to the comman dant who dispatched a sous-offlcler to guide the American to the Brom litz cell. ITO BE CONTINUED) _ _ The advent of the CCC was a great event in the lives of the Florida Seminoles after the Indian Division was established. The braves can now work at improv ing their camps and be paid for it. These pictures, loaned by Dwight Gardin, Seminole agent nt Ft. Lauderdale, Fla., show how the tribes live. Right: Despite the Mongolian cast of her features, little Fran ces Jumper is pure Cow Creek Seminole. Susie Tiger, above, of the im portant Seminole Tiger clan, is grinding corn. The mortar she is using may be as old as she is. It was hollowed from cypress. (In circle) Patriarch Billy Buster squats before his lonely fire. As a young man he killed his brother, and is now an out cast by tribal decree. Ready to dip into her sofskee pot for a sample is this Miccacuki Seminole matron. This is not madame’s kitchen, however, for the whole clan cooks in it. The three pots in the fire mean that three families will partake of the next meal here. Left: Five top hands among the Seminole cowboys ride out through the cabbage palm ham mock to in spect their herds. They have become expert cattle men. Representatives of the Great White Father who care for the Seminoles. Left, rear, is Dan Murphy, who heads the Indian de partment for the CCC, while just behind the pot is John Collier, commissioner of Indian affairs. At a quiet pool in a big cypress swamp Mrs. George Osceola and her two sons are busy washing clothes. They waded to this spot. Various Motifs for Embroidering Linens 12691! 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