Beneath Gray Skies

A
s America suffered under the rule of an extremist government from 2000 onwards, and seemed determined to turn itself into a world pariah, my thoughts turned to why a nation of such generally pleasant people could turn into something that was so alien and hateful to most of the rest of the world. My quarrel was not with Americans, who constitute many of my friends, but with the nation of America, whose ways and values continued to puzzle me as I researched the topic.

In my exploration of the subject, I discovered that many of the underlying attitudes expressed by Bush’s America were those of the 19th-century Confederacy, and indeed, much of today’s South: xenophobia, belligerence, a tendency to military violence, and a racial and religious intolerance.

Such values were close to those held by Hitler’s Nazis, of course, and this set me to wondering what would have happened if the Confederacy had survived, and made an alliance with the Nazis.

However, in writing this story, I didn’t want the Confederates to have won the Civil War. For one thing, I couldn’t imagine how they could have retained control over the Union states for long, given their relatively small armed forces. Much more likely, I felt, was the possibility that the Civil War had never been fought, and my conversation at the start between Seward and Chase is, as far as I can tell, fairly representative of various shades of opinion in the North at that time. Of course, a divided America would have had other implications on world history as we know it now, and I have tried to incorporate these ramifications into the story. For example, the First World War, here referred to as the Great European War, would probably have gone on longer without American intervention.

It is quite possible that the Nazis would have achieved a greater momentum at an earlier date in a more thoroughly depressed and beaten Germany. Whether they would have achieved an alliance with the Confederacy is another matter.

Airships have long been a love of mine. I think at one time I read almost everything about them in the popular (and a lot in the technical) realm about them that existed in Cambridge University Library, including much about Dr. Hugo Eckener, one of the great men of airships. I was once lucky enough to travel on the British Goodyear blimp, my experiences of which form the basis for David’s impressions of luxury airship travel; a form of transport that I think is sadly lost for ever.

Kamakura, March 2009

S
ince I wrote the novel, the political complexion of the USA has changed yet again. As I write these words, the right and left are snapping at each other over health insurance reform and the role of government in individuals’ lives, and the country looks even more likely to tear itself to pieces than it did a few years ago. Sadly, if there is civil strife within the USA, it is unlikely to be geographical this time—it may end up much more like the Russian Civil War or the troubles in Northern Ireland, with localities bitterly divided by ideology, hating each other enough to kill. Let us pray that the USA can escape this fate, and that even if the States of America can no longer remain United (which may end up being the best solution for all concerned), that the dissolution comes without bloodshed.

Kamakura, April 2010

A
t one point, David is asked to read a passage from a translation of Clausewitz’s
On War
, as translated in 1874 by Colonel Maude of the Royal Engineers. The poem that Hermann Goering requires for his wife is, of course, by Goethe, and shares the title with the previous poem in the collection,
Wanderers Nachtlied
(Night song of the wanderer). Goering’s impromptu translation is by me.

The phrase “Confederate States of America” and the corresponding abbreviation of “CSA” were fairly obvious, and have no relation to Kevin Willmott’s fine movie
C.S.A.
, which I deliberately avoided watching until I had finished this book.

M
y thanks to my friends for their encouragement and support, together with constructive criticism. Special thanks to Cindy Mullins of 4M Associates, who encouraged me and arranged for two separate professional readings of the manuscript, resulting in a more coherent and professional product at the end of the day. Also to Eric Bossieux, who helped me with some of the Southern idiom used by many of the characters. Further thanks are due to John Talbot, who generously undertook the task of telling me where I had gone wrong while I was producing this second edition.

And many loving thanks to a very patient wife, Yoshiko, who somewhat bemusedly supported me in my madness while I created this story and made my way through the minefields of independent publishing.

“
Allow the erring sisters to depart in peace?”

T
he erstwhile de facto leader of the Republican party, Henry Seward of New York, now serving as Secretary of State to the newly elected President Lincoln, faced the Secretary of the Treasury, Salmon Chase of Ohio, across the drawing room. Seward was relaxed, ensconced in his favorite armchair, and smoking one of his inevitable cigars, while Chase leaned ponderously forward in his chair, his bald dome of a head catching the light.

“Mr. Chase,” began Seward. “As you know, we have a problem with our Southern sisters. If we provision Fort Sumter, we provoke violence from the South towards the North. If we do nothing, the secessionists will take over Federal property. I don’t like either of these alternatives.”

“What does the President say?” Chase sipped at his water.

“Oh, when I last saw him he wasn’t saying anything to anyone.” Lincoln had staggered through his inaugural ceremony three days earlier in the first stages of Potomac fever, and had since collapsed into bed, where his condition was described as “serious”. “Nothing that made any sense, anyway,” Seward added, refilling his brandy goblet.

“My advice, as you know—” began Chase, but Seward headed him off.

“Yes, I know, Mr. Chase. Your wish would be to eliminate slavery throughout the entire Union immediately. Your sentiments do you great credit, but I hardly think that they are a practical solution to our present problems. The pressing subject is Fort Sumter. Would you recommend re-provisioning Fort Sumter? I ask you as one of the wiser and more experienced members of this new Cabinet. I hardly think our new Secretary of the Navy, Mr. Welles, has had any experience of this kind of matter.” The flattery worked, as Seward, the experienced politician, expected it to do.

“Yes indeed, Mr. Seward, I would indeed recommend sending a naval squadron at once to relieve Fort Sumter, and to take active measures against any opposition that may be encountered.”

“And I, Mr. Chase, would not do such any such thing. I would prefer to unite the North and South against a common enemy. Mexico, for example, or even Britain.”

“That would be monstrous, Mr. Seward. You cannot start a war for political expediency alone!”

“No?” Seward raised his eyebrows quizzically. “I was under the impression that this is how the majority of wars are started. So,” taking a pull at his drink, “you are opposed to my idea and I to yours.” The smaller Seward appeared to Chase, with his large hooked nose, and mop of graying hair, like a rather tipsy parrot. But not drunk, thought Chase.

“We have the makings of an ‘irrepressible conflict’ between the two of us, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Chase?” Seward enjoyed quoting himself.

“It seems to me to be so,” replied Chase.

“But it is only the case if our aim is to preserve the Union,” replied Seward. What was Seward driving towards? Chase asked himself. “At least, as members of Mr. Lincoln’s Cabinet, we should be assuming that to be our aim, following the President’s speech three days ago?” Seward was urbane.