1901 by Robert Conroy Page B

appalled that a junior officer knew of the plans and was so blithely informing people of them. There was no secrecy.
    “No, we can’t, mister. Lord, what a mess.” With that, he excused himself and let Patrick and Katrina continue on.
    The first point of note was, of course, the Brooklyn Bridge, which connected Manhattan to the very place where the Germans were landing. The Manhattan side was barricaded by a miscellany of carriages, carts, barrels, and anything else that could be put in place quickly. What appeared to be several hundred policemen were augmented by a horde of civilians and others in militia and National Guard uniforms. There were even several old men in what could only have been Civil War uniforms. Patrick again was glad he hadn’t worn his own uniform. Despite that, there were a number of hollered requests for him and Katrina’s two servants to join the defenders. He lied easily, saying they’d be back later when they returned the lady to safety. For her part, Katrina smiled demurely and they drove on.
    Pathetic, Patrick thought, that a few hundred unarmed or half-armed and undisciplined men could even think of halting the German army should it decide to cross the bridge. They’d be brushed aside in minutes and the lucky ones merely humiliated.
    Finally they reached a point near decrepit old Battery Park, near the stinking and immigrant-filled slums of the Lower East Side where they had a good view of the harbor. Before them lay the vast panorama of invasion. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of other New Yorkers gathered to watch, mainly in silence. Stretched to the horizon were scores of freighters and ocean liners waiting to disembark their cargo, human and materiel, at the Brooklyn docks. Protecting and screening them were at least a dozen large warships, which, thank God, appeared to be unconcerned about the crowds of spectators watching the show.
    After a while, Patrick, Katrina, and the two servants went to the roof of a building and observed further. Using field glasses, Patrick could easily see the lines of gray-clad soldiers leaving the ships and marching inland. It was a precise and awesome performance. On a nearby rooftop, he noticed two men with what he recognized as a movie camera, probably from Mr. Edison’s Biograph Laboratory in New Jersey. He wondered what they would do with the pictures, where they would show them. After observing for a while, Patrick suggested they leave. Saddened and silent, they returned to the Schuyler home.
    Once there, he excused himself to use the telephone and, to his surprise, had little trouble getting through to the “Windsor Hotel” for his report.
    A moment after he disconnected, Katrina tapped on the door, entered, and took a seat on a luxurious couch. Yesterday’s look of anguish had returned, and she appeared to have been crying. “What now, Colonel?”
    “I’m going north and east across the Hudson before Manhattan is cut off.” Patrick shrugged and smiled wanly. “I wouldn’t be able to do much observing as a prisoner, would I?”
    She paled. “You think that will happen?”
    He explained to her calmly that cutting off Manhattan was very likely, that indeed it was the only logical thing for the Germans to do. They had, he estimated, landed the better part of an entire division and appeared to be picking up the pace. They could land about five to six thousand men a day, with their heavy equipment taking a little longer.
    He told her to visualize the area. Manhattan, as so many seem to forget, is indeed an island, even though the Harlem River to the north is not much of a barrier to traffic or commerce and is crossed at a number of points. However, a military force could turn it into an extremely effective moat. Thus, he explained further, the Germans would likely head north and off Long Island, which would logically carry them along the Harlem River, thereby severing Manhattan from the rest of the world. The city would then be under siege and