Colonel Berry

Chapter Twenty-Four

As Michael led David down the steps to the wine cellar, he asked, "You're deeper into this now, aren't you?

"Very much so. I'm now running all activity from here into Germany." He shrugged. "I don't yet know how extensive it is. My mind boggles at the responsibility I've been given."

"It wouldn't have been given to you if you weren't capable of handling it."

"I think of incompetents such as Wyndcom being given command of a battalion, and I wonder whether I'm following that pattern."

"From what you've told us, it's far from that, David. Very far. His sense of self-worth is distorted by generations of privilege and entitlement, as are the machinations of those who appointed him. The cleaning out of the War Office and the upper echelons of the Army is allowing true leadership to be recognised."

Michael unlocked the cellar door and pushed it open, beckoning David to enter.

"Hmm. I love the smell in here."

"That's the essences of wine slowly permeating the corks. Twenty to twenty-five years and it begins emerging."

That's the ullage you explained to us when we were here in February, isn't it?" 

"It is. And we need to drink the wine before it begins in earnest. Once the cork is saturated from end to end, the loss accelerates." He pointed along the aisle. "Muriel is roasting a leg of lamb, so we'll do a claret. One of the 1893s, and I think Mouton would be fitting." 

" I still remember its taste after two months."

Michael chuckled. "In years to come, you'll still remember it. I have taste imprints from wines I had two decades and more ago. The greater the wine, the greater the impressions and the longer they persist." He picked up a 1900 on their way past the bin, and then an 1893, passing each to David.

David examined the labels. "We had the 1899 with it the last time. Is the 1900 as spectacular?"

Michael chuckled. "You tell me at the table. Both the 99 and the 1900 are exceptional years, and I dither between them."

"Like we did at Christmastime, between the Mouton and the Latour. I don't recall what year those were; wine was such a new thing to me at the time. Huh! It still is."

"Those were both 1900. The Latour is the more renowned, but I prefer the Mouton because it is as good or better at a lower price." He chuckled over his shoulder as he led the way back toward the entrance. "Most still give far too much credence to a classification which was made by some of the wine merchants for the 1855 Paris Exhibition." 

Michael closed and locked the door, and as they started up the steps, he continued, "Lafite, Latour, Margaux and Haut Brion were placed in specific order at the top of the first rank, and Mouton was at the head of the second. The classification was based on their selling prices at the time, but in sixty years, quality can change, and to me it has. The order should now be Mouton, Latour, Lafite, Haut Brion and Margaux. The first three are all in the same commune, and they share similar —" 

"Commune? Has the Bordeaux region now turned to communism?"

"No, nothing to do with that. A French commune is like a municipality here, similar to Unterhallau or Trasadingen in Schaffhausen."

David chuckled as he followed Michael up the stairs. "I was just reading a briefing paper on the spread of Marxism among the discontented. I'm likely over-sensitive."

When they arrived in the dining room, Michael took the bottles and laid them on slanted cradles on the sideboard. "This makes more sense than standing them up in the Bordelaise manner — the practice I used until I saw Bethia's. Much less disturbance of the sediment this way."

Michael turned and leaned against the sideboard. "You're now getting into the politics of this, aren't you?" 

David nodded. "The cause of the war is obscure to most, and the reason for its continuance becomes increasingly murky to those with the power to stop it. The main motivation of the German General Staff now appears to be stubbornness. Look at Verdun. They've lost over ninety thousand men in two months with no significant gain of either ground or advantage since the first week. Yet they continue." 

"I've seen reports that the French are weakening, and the Germans will soon break through."

"I'll wager you read those in the Zürcher Post. I saw a copy of it in the sitting room." 

Michael nodded. "Yes. The false information is insidious, isn't it?" 

"The Post is owned by Germans, but the propaganda pieces planted here are mild compared to those in German newspapers. Here, they want sympathy and support, but there, they must bolster the confidence of the people and encourage them to continue fighting."

"And when the people realise?"

"There are now Marxist factions campaigning to transform the war into a proletarian revolution. Organised stirring of discontent."

"The exiled Bolshevik. I've read some of his pamphlets." 

"Yes, Vladimir Ulyanov. He's living in Bern using the name Lenin, and he's running destabilising movements throughout Europe and Russia, taking advantage of the fear and uncertainty and promising a better life. Very similar to the methodology of religions."

"So, this is what sparked your reaction to commune." Michael laughed.

David shrugged. "There is fear his ideas will find increasing support among the Russian peasants. They've long been oppressed and living in squalid conditions, and anything with a glimmer of hope for improvement would garner support."

"So, why fear that happening? Wouldn't that better their lives?"

"The fear is that if the movement continues building, then support for the war will decline, allowing the Germans to overrun the Eastern Front. And once Russia is defeated, all the resources would be focused on the Western Front."

"But the same destabilisation could happen in Germany, could it not?"

"The people there have not suffered the squalor and oppression of the Russians, and until recently, their lives have been good. They are being soothed by propaganda promising their current situation is temporary and will soon be over. We've seen that the Marxists have found little traction in Germany."

"Makes sense." Michael nodded, then tilted his head. "You've become far more deeply immersed in this than I imagined."

"Not through design, though. Through circumstance. Looking for a way to remain with Maria." He glanced over his shoulder. "We should rejoin them."