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World War I | Preparedness | 1

2024/4/3
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Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's July 22nd, 1916, and you're outside the Ferry Building in San Francisco, California. Today, you're marching along with tens of thousands of people to urge America to get ready for the possibility of war.

So far, America has stayed neutral in the great war that's been ravaging Europe for the last two years. But with each passing month, it seems that the fighting spreads. You believe President Woodrow Wilson should be doing more to prepare the country to enter the war. And all summer, Americans like you have been marching in major cities to make that point. You and your fellow marchers call them preparedness parades. Though today's parade is political, it has a carnival atmosphere, complete with floats and watermelon-eating contests.

You hear whistles blowing and cheers. A marching band starts playing the Star-Spangled Banner and My Country Tis of Thee. And as the parade fully gets underway, you turn to your friend beside you, who you met serving overseas in the Spanish-American War. Despite all the festivities, he looks grim-faced.

You poke him in the ribs. "Hey, you gonna walk around with that hangdog look for the next six hours? Why so glum?" "Well, I'm worried. Haven't you heard the rumor?" "No, what rumor?" "There's gonna be trouble. I heard all the leftists, anarchists, and trade unionists in the city had a big meeting a couple of days back." "Well, it is San Francisco. I'm surprised they found somewhere big enough to fit them all." "No, I'm serious. Look at this. They're talking violence." Your friend shoves a pamphlet into your hand.

You scan the page and land on an ominous warning. It says here they're going to use a little direct action to show that militarism can't be forced on them and their children without a violent protest. You shove the pamphlet back into your friend's hands. Nah, they're all talk. These people are cowards. They say they want peace, but to get it or keep it, sometimes you've got to be willing to fight. If it was up to those anarchists, we'd all be waving Union Jacks right now. Look around, how many people there are. The city is with us.

Your friend shrugs, his expressions still dour. And despite your bravado, you're worried too. The national argument may be going your way, but despite the large turnout, opposition to preparedness remains strong. You turn back to your friend. "And you know what really galls me?" "What's that?" "These pacifists can't accept reality. The German army outnumbers ours 20 to 1." "Can you believe that? 20 to 1. If we do end up in this fight, we need to be able to defend ourselves."

Your friend starts to reply, but before he can utter a word, an explosion knocks you both to the ground.

Dazed, you stumble to your feet. Smoke fills the air. You realize that those weren't just empty threats. The so-called pacifists have bombed the parade. You spin around to look for your friend. He's still on the ground, a stunned look on his face. A gash on the side of his leg is bleeding from where shrapnel tore through his pants. You look around frantically for help and notice with dread some bodies up the street, lying motionless on the ground.

You grit your teeth in anger and worry as you realize the heated debate about America's role in the world war has just turned deadly. T-Mobile has home internet on America's largest 5G network. It's how I stream the game. It's how I knock out the shopping list. It's how I level up. Get T-Mobile 5G home internet for only 50 bucks per month with auto pay and any voice line. Plus, there are no exploding bills or annual contracts. T-Mobile, it's how you internet. Check availability today.

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Fuel up at Shell. Download the Shell app to find a station today. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. American History Tellers

On our show, we'll take you to the events, the times, and the people that shaped America and Americans. Our values, our struggles, and our dreams. We'll put you in the shoes of everyday citizens as history was being made. And we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and affects you now.

In the summer of 1914, diplomatic clashes erupted between the major powers in Europe when Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary was assassinated in the Balkans by Serbian separatists. Europe's intricate web of alliances, built over decades, quickly transformed this regional conflict into a global one, the First World War, known at the time as the Great War.

And with the advent of new technologies, the war would rack up a death toll that surpassed all previous conflicts and number in the millions.

Initially, the United States regarded the fighting in Europe with deep ambivalence. President Woodrow Wilson declared the U.S. would remain neutral, and in the early days of the war, popular opinion was on his side, as many Americans failed to see a clear moral purpose in going to war. But ultimately, German submarine attacks on commercial ships, acts of sabotage on American soil, and diplomatic treachery would draw the U.S. into the fight.

And once engaged, the First World War fundamentally changed America. The U.S. government moved quickly to crack down on internal dissent and fortify its intelligence services in the face of suspected acts of espionage. America diverted its military and industrial strength to fighting the war, and social change swept the nation. Alcohol was banned, women won the right to vote, and African Americans moved north in great numbers, helping to transform America's cities.

So by the time Armistice was declared, the United States had become a military powerhouse and a new world leader, determined to take a role in shaping the future of diplomatic relations across the globe. This is Episode 1, Preparedness.

On the morning of June 28, 1914, a six-car motorcade hurried through Sarajevo towards the town hall. In an open-top car sat the heir apparent of Austria-Hungary, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and his wife, Duchess Sophie, waving to the crowds.

But they were both on edge. Only a few minutes earlier, Serbian militants from the terrorist group The Black Hand had thrown a bomb at the Archduke's vehicle. The bomb missed the Archduke, but exploded under another vehicle, injuring at least 16 people and splattering blood over the speech the Archduke was about to deliver.

Despite this brazen attack, the shaken Austrian Archduke gave his speech as planned, and afterward, he and the Duchess decided that rather than wait for a military escort, they should go to the hospital to visit those wounded in the bombing.

But as their motorcade headed back through the city, the convoy took a wrong turn. Realizing the mistake, the Archduke's driver tried to put the car in reverse, but his frantic efforts caused it to stall instead. Faitfully, the car came to a stop right next to a 19-year-old supporter of the Black Hand, Gavrilo Princip.

Prince Sip seized the opportunity. He whipped out a pistol and fired twice at point-blank range. The first bullet hit the archduke in the neck, and the second hit the duchess in the abdomen. By noon, both had died from their wounds. And these two deaths would tip Europe and the world into war. For years, there had been a growing belief that a great war was coming, a final showdown between the world's imperial powers. And fueling that belief was the German Empire.

Germany itself had existed for only 40 years. Before 1871, it consisted of a loose confederation of interwarring states.

But Germany's ruler, Kaiser Wilhelm II, was a man of ambition. He was a strong supporter of German industry and scientific progress. He also championed the build-up of Germany's military, having grown up absorbing the militaristic culture of Prussia, the kingdom that engineered the unification of Germany. But he was also known to be impatient and often erratic, veering from displays of extreme arrogance to deep depressions.

Shortly after becoming emperor in 1888, he had adopted a policy called Weltpolitik, meaning world politics, with the aim of turning Germany into the world's mightiest empire. And by 1914, Germany was well on its way to achieving this goal. It had the world's biggest army, controlled colonies in Africa and Asia, and was out to build a navy that could challenge Britain's superiority on the seas.

But the Kaiser's policies were not just born from expansionist dreams. They were also driven by paranoia about the nations on Germany's borders. Germany sat in the middle of Europe, sandwiched between two powerful rivals. To the east lay the Russian Empire, and to the west was France, which in 1870 had gone to war against Germany to try to stop unification.

The Kaiser feared that if France and Russia were to attack at the same time, they could crush Germany. And even worse, France, Russia, and our third rival, Great Britain, shared an informal alliance to unite against Germany if ever war broke out. And the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand had just made that danger all the more real.

In response to the Archduke's murder, in July 1914, Austria-Hungary decided the answer to its Serbian separatist problem was to invade Serbia. But they worried that this would spark a war with Serbia's ally, Russia. So Austria-Hungary asked Germany for backup. The Kaiser promised Germany would step in if Russia attacked.

Reassured by Germany's pledge of support, Austria-Hungary invaded Serbia on July 28, 1914. And by then, Russian forces were amassing on Austria-Hungary's eastern border. In what became known as the July Crisis, urgent telegrams pinged back and forth between Berlin, Moscow, and Vienna. Germany warned Russia not to interfere, while Russia demanded Austria-Hungary leave Serbia alone. Austria-Hungary refused.

And finally, on August 1st, Germany sent Russia an ultimatum, ordering it to stop mobilizing to attack Austria-Hungary within 12 hours or face war. These 12 hours came and went. And true to the Kaiser's word, Germany declared war on Russia. Soon after, France and Britain declared war on Germany. And thanks to these nations' vast empires around the globe, this was now a world war.

On one side were the Allies, Britain, France, and Russia. They were soon joined by Japan, which hoped to acquire Germany's colonies in Asia. On the other side were the Central Powers, Germany and Austria-Hungary, and they soon gained the support of the Ottoman Empire, which had long jostled with Britain and Russia over influence in the Middle East.

With frightening rapidity, the Kaiser's fears had come true, and Germany now faced a two-front war with France in the west and Russia in the east. But Germany's military chiefs had been mapping out this scenario for years, and they had a plan. They would concentrate all of their efforts on defeating France before Russia's poorly organized military could fully mobilize. Once France was beaten, Germany could then launch a full-force attack on Russia. This strategy was known as the Schlieffen Plan.

But for this plan to work, Germany needed to beat France quickly. To do that, it needed to avoid French fortifications on the French-German border. So it sent its armies through neutral Belgium. German troops charged into Belgium, slaughtering, raping, and torturing civilians as they blazed their way toward France. All the while, in the United States, President Woodrow Wilson watched warily as the news of the war in Europe poured in.

A former academic, Wilson had served as president of Princeton University and as governor of New Jersey before being elected to the U.S. presidency in 1912. He was a Democrat with strong southern roots and had a reputation as a reserved intellectual. In early August 1914, he was shocked to learn that Germany had violated the neutrality of Belgium and crossed the border into France. But he was initially determined that the United States should not get involved.

And despite his growing concern about the war in Europe, he couldn't turn his attention from matters at home, where he was facing a personal crisis. Imagine it's August 5th, 1914, and you're an advisor to U.S. President Woodrow Wilson. You're walking through the finely decorated hallways of the White House. And normally, the place is abuzz with activity. But today, gloom hangs in the air.

You pass people whispering on the corridors and climb the staircase to the private quarters. At the top of the stairs, you see the door to the bedroom where the president now spends most of his time. You listen outside the closed door for a moment and then knock gently.

President Wilson opens the door, and you can tell from the redness around his eyes that he's been crying. Behind him, you catch a glimpse of the doctor tending to the First Lady. It's common knowledge that she's suffering from some sort of kidney disease, but by the look of things, she doesn't look like she has much time left. You address the President. Sir, I'm sorry to intrude, but we must discuss the European war.

Wilson gives a stern nod, steps into the corridor, and closes the bedroom door behind him. "'Let's talk here. I've not told Ellen about the war. There's enough sadness in that room already.' You nod, feeling guilty for demanding his attention at such a difficult moment. And Wilson notices your unease. "'Oh, it's all right.'

"'I am the president, and the nation must come first. What do you need?' "'Well, sir, is it still your intention to declare neutrality in the European conflict?' "'Yes, I thought I was clear on that.' "'You were. I just thought that these reports from Belgium warranted further consideration. The German outrages there have surely strengthened the case for war. What's happening in Belgium is terrible, and I have no wish to send Americans to their deaths on foreign soil for a foreign cause, and we lack sufficient military in any case.'

You nod, aware that the U.S. Army has few men and still uses outdated rifles, while Europe's huge armies have modern weaponry like machine guns. The United States has a strong navy, but the Allies already have the more powerful British Royal Navy at their disposal. Still, it doesn't feel right to ignore what's happening in Europe. You try another tack. Well, sir, what about financial support? No, no, no. We must stay out of this war. I won't risk our country being torn apart by minority conflicts.

It's crucial that we stay neutral and calm public opinion. Otherwise, we risk British Americans turning on German Americans and who knows what else. And if the combatants ask for loans from our banks? Lending to one side but not the other would compromise our neutrality. I won't have American banks financing a European war. Wilson then glances toward the bedroom. You can see that you're not going to change his mind today, so you decide to cut the discussion short. Well, very good, sir. I'll prepare the announcement.

Without further word, Wilson returns to the bedroom and you gather your things to head back to your office. The president has made a decision. You just hope that when his wife breathes her last, the president will be able to contain his grief. If he's determined to avoid this war, the country will need a focused leader.

On August 6, 1914, President Wilson's wife died after a long struggle with kidney disease. That same day, President Wilson declared America's neutrality. By then, battles were raging across northern France as the Germans pushed toward Paris.

In a speech to Congress two weeks later, Wilson cautioned again, The effect of the war upon the United States will depend upon what American citizens say and do. Every man who really loves America will act and speak in the true spirit of neutrality. We must be impartial in thought as well as in action. Privately, though, President Wilson favored the Allies. His mother was English, and Britain was an important U.S. trading partner as well as a fellow democracy.

But while Americans backed Wilson's desire to remain officially neutral, believing the war to be Europe's problem, many had family ties that influenced their personal allegiances just as their president had. In 1914, around 90% of America's population had European roots, and most still had extended families in Europe. Many spoke European languages, in addition to English, and maintained strong cultural and political ties to their families' countries of origin.

President Wilson and his advisers knew that German-Americans might struggle to support war with Germany if they still had family there. Irish-Americans who wanted Irish independence might balk at an alliance with Britain. And the loyalties of the recent influx of Italian-American immigrants were unclear, too. Italy was a German ally before the war, but had now declared its own neutrality.

Ultimately, Wilson hoped that Europe's war would end swiftly and he wouldn't have to grapple with these difficult questions. Hopes were high, even among the countries fighting, that it would all be over by Christmas 1914. And with Germany fast closing in on Paris, that seemed likely.

On September 5, 1914, German forces reached the Marne River. They were now less than 30 miles from Paris, but the breakneck pace of the invasion had taken a toll on the German troops. They were exhausted, their supply chains were breaking down, and they faced fierce resistance from the French and British who were determined to protect the capital.

For five days, more than two million soldiers clashed in the Battle of the Marne. In the end, an estimated half a million soldiers were killed or wounded. Though Germany's advance was stopped in its tracks, the Allied troops were unable to push them back, and the battle ended in a stalemate. Rather than retreat, both sides began digging trenches from which they could defend their positions, and soon these narrow, muddy dugouts would stretch for nearly 500 miles like a scar across France.

Back in the United States, Americans read newspaper accounts of the bloody fighting. But public opinion still leaned toward neutrality, and the Great War in Europe had also become a boon to the struggling American economy.

To keep fighting, the Europeans needed a steady stream of supplies, from chemicals and cotton to fuel and food. Orders for these crucial goods flooded into American businesses. The U.S. had entered 1914 in an economic recession, but by October of that year, the economy was booming as American companies raced to fill the rush of orders coming from Europe.

And with money to be made, the Wilson administration quickly dropped its ban on U.S. banks lending to the combatants. Both the Allied and Central Powers could now look to America for funds and supplies. So while the United States would not be drawn into the fight, they were open for business. But soon, the British would make a move that would put American profits in peril.

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In January 1915, the American freighter the SS Wilhelmina left Brooklyn, New York for the German port of Hamburg. It was carrying 2,000 tons of food, including corn, wheat, oats, beef, pork, and fruit. Germany was fighting a war on two fronts and relying on neutral countries like the U.S. for imports to keep its people fed. The company that hired the SS Wilhelmina to deliver the goods stood to make a handsome profit of $100,000, around $3 million today.

But to reach Hamburg, the Wilhelmina would have to sail through the English Channel. And that meant going through a naval blockade that the British imposed at the start of the war to cut off supplies to Germany. But the steamship's captain was unfazed. The blockade only applied to items that could help the German military, like guns, explosives, and ammunition. Food was exempt, provided it wasn't destined for the German armed forces.

But as the Wilhelmina approached Britain, a vicious storm struck. And the Wilhelmina's captain sought refuge in the nearest port, the Cornish town of Falmouth. But the ship's troubles were just beginning. Imagine it's February 9th, 1915, and you're the captain of the SS Wilhelmina. After enduring the worst storm you've seen in your 20 years at sea, you feel relief as a pilot boat guides you into the Falmouth harbor.

Once docked, you step out onto the rain-swept deck to assess the damage from the storm. But then you see a group of armed British customs officers boarding your vessel. You head toward them as rain pelts your face. "Greetings, gentlemen. I'm the captain and very relieved to be here, too. How may I help you?" One of the British customs officers gives you a stern look. "We're here to inspect your cargo."

You nod to a crewmate. He hands the customs officer an inventory of the goods on board. We're carrying foodstuffs. Our customer isn't the German government. It's for private German enterprise. You cross your arms, and you hear your crew gathering behind you in a show of force. The British customs officer isn't cowed, though. Germany has just nationalized its grain industry. The food you are carrying is now destined for the German Empire, and therefore contraband and subject to seizure. You need to unload your cargo immediately.

Yep.

You watch the customs officer leave in a huff. You've bought time to challenge the seizure, but not much. You just hope the court will decide in your favor, or you'll lose any chance of a profit from this voyage. The Royal Navy, enforcing Britain's naval blockade, aggressively patrol the two sea routes to Germany, the English Channel and the 200,000 square miles of the North Sea between Scotland and Norway.

At first, the blockade only sought to stop weapons from reaching the Germans. But as the war progressed, the British added food, cotton, and other materials to the list of goods it regarded as contraband. So when a private American ship, the SS Wilhelmina, entered the seas around Britain in February of 1915, its captain was surprised to learn that its cargo was suddenly a target of the blockade.

Despite the U.S. suppliers' protest, the British would eventually win in court and seize the Wilhelmina's cargo. Britain was now effectively blocking American suppliers from using international waters to deliver food to Germany. And this soured relations between the U.S. and Britain, but there was little America could do about it. The British had planted mines along the routes leading to Germany. And if American ships wanted safe passage through those waters, they needed to cooperate with British authorities.

But losing cargo to the British wasn't the only risk for Americans at sea. Germany was determined to undermine the blockade, so they sent U-boat submarines into the waters around Britain to sink merchant ships delivering supplies to the Allies.

This danger became all too real on May 7, 1915, 11 miles off the southern coast of Ireland, when the German U-boat U-20 fired a torpedo at the British ocean liner RMS Lusitania. Although the Lusitania was a passenger ship, the Germans believed it was secretly carrying munitions to support the Allied forces.

After the torpedo hit, it sank within only minutes, taking nearly 1,200 passengers and crew with it. Among the dead were 128 Americans.

The sinking of the Lusitania sparked widespread outrage in the United States. The German government protested that the Lusitania was carrying contraband cargo, and they had been given fair warning that all British ships were at risk of attack. But the British and Americans denied the Lusitania was carrying arms, and the loss of American lives meant President Wilson was compelled to act.

Between May and July 1915, Wilson sent three letters to the German government. In the first, he urged Germany to stop attacking commercial vessels. In the second, he accused the Germans of a cruel attack on the Lusitania and rejected their argument that the British blockade was illegal. Then, on July 21st, he sent his third letter, warning that he would regard the loss of any more American lives due to Germany's sinking of merchant vessels as deliberately unfriendly.

The Kaiser took no notice of these letters. Breaking the British blockade was far more urgent than appeasing the U.S., so the German U-boats continued to roam the seas.

And then, on August 19, 1915, another U-boat, U-24, targeted the British ocean liner, the SS Arabic. On board were more than 400 passengers and crew bound for New York. U-24 fired and struck the Arabic, sinking it within 10 minutes. This time, 44 people died, including three Americans.

Despite Wilson's warning, the Germans had deliberately sunk another vessel with Americans on board, and as far as Wilson was concerned, they had crossed the line. But Germany defended the attack, arguing that the Arabic had failed to identify itself as a civilian ship,

In the White House, the president and his advisers debated whether to officially sever diplomatic ties with Germany or to wait and keep pressuring the Germans to call off the U-boat attacks. Wilson and his advisers knew that a continued loss of American lives would ultimately leave the U.S. no choice but to enter the conflict. So, for the time being, Wilson decided to maintain diplomatic relations, but demanded the Germans cease their policy of unrestricted submarine warfare.

After a few tense days of diplomatic cables, the Kaiser agreed. But unbeknownst to Wilson, the Germans had calculated the truce would be just a temporary pause.

Germany had realized it needed more U-boats to break the British naval blockade, and they would need time to build up their fleet. It was decided it was better to make a tactical retreat now rather than continue to risk provoking the United States, a reason they could always restart their attacks on commercial ships once they had increased their fleet of U-boats.

But in the present, President Wilson was relieved. American shipping and seafarers were safe from German U-boats, and the risk of the United States being drawn into the war was diminished. But while Wilson aimed to keep the U.S. out of the war, another influential American wanted to go one step further and convince Europe to lay down its arms altogether.

On December 4, 1915, automobile tycoon Henry Ford set sail from the harbor at Hoboken, New Jersey. He had chartered an ocean liner called the Oscar II and declared it the Peace Ship. Ford was headed to Europe on an amateur diplomatic mission, intending to use his high profile to build public pressure for ending the war. Once in Europe, he and other prominent peace activists planned to enlist the help of neutral European countries like Sweden and Norway to lobby the warring states to enter peace talks.

Ford had initially hoped to win the support of President Wilson, but the president declined, predicting that Ford's mission would end in failure. Wilson's doubts didn't deflate Ford's self-confidence, though. He dismissed the president, describing him to friends as a small man, and pushed on with his quest to end the Great War. Ford also ignored the taunts of newspapers, which had dubbed his venture a ship of fools.

But as the peace ship set sail, Ford stood tall on the deck and waved at crowds of well-wishers as a band played the popular pro-peace song, I Didn't Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier. Three days after Ford departed for Europe, President Wilson delivered his annual address to Congress.

Since the sinking of the Lusitania, Wilson had been under growing pressure from members of the Republican Party, including former President Theodore Roosevelt, to prepare the nation for war. Earlier in the year, Roosevelt had published a book titled America and the World War, in which he attacked Wilson's administration for failing to build up the military. Roosevelt believed it was crucial for the U.S. to assert its strength on the world stage.

Wilson resisted the pressure at first, but after a summer of soul-searching, he realized that to do nothing would be a gift to his political opponents, and the tense arguments with Germany after the sinking of the SS Erebek had shown him the wisdom of military strength.

Now Wilson had come to Congress to announce his change of heart. He began by reiterating his commitment to maintaining American neutrality. But since the German U-boat attacks, he had come to believe the nation needed to be prepared to defend its interests against aggressors. So he intended to spend $91 million building up the American military.

He would enlarge the standing U.S. Army by 33,000 soldiers to a total of over 140,000 men. He also announced a five-year program of shipbuilding to bolster the Navy. This news galvanized advocates of American involvement in the war, like Roosevelt. They founded the Preparedness Movement to push Wilson into going further, faster, by campaigning to build public support for even more military investment.

But Wilson's plans came as a shock to peace campaigners. Instead of seeing increased investment as prudent, they saw it as only a prelude to war. On Henry Ford's peace ship, several activists drew up a resolution denouncing the new preparedness policy. But when they began trying to corral other passengers into signing it, tempers flared.

Some passengers resolved to back the president and his plan to expand the military. They accused those who drew up the resolution of being unpatriotic. Arguments got so intense that those refusing to sign threatened to leave the peace ship the moment it reached Europe.

So when, on December 19, 1915, after two weeks at sea, the peace ship reached Oslo, Norway, the mood on board was frayed. Making matters worse, in city after city, the peace campaigners got a cold dose of political reality. Every nation at war still thought they could win and refused to consider mediation.

Ford soon realized he'd misjudged his chances of success. Less than a week after the peace ship reached Europe, in poor health, he boarded a ship back to America, leaving his supporters to see through the rest of his failed peace mission.

By early 1916, with prospects for peace in Europe looking grim, President Wilson turned his attention to his campaign for re-election. Facing criticism from all sides, his plan was to focus on his track record of maintaining U.S. neutrality. But that would be a delicate balancing act, given his growing conviction that war with Germany was not a question of if, but when. ♪

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On January 5, 1916, a 57-year-old American diplomat named Edward House arrived at the British port of Falmouth, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. House was a politician from Texas who had become President Woodrow Wilson's close friend and advisor after helping him win the 1912 Democratic presidential nomination. Now the president had entrusted him with another critical mission, to convince Europe to stop fighting.

Henry Ford had hoped that neutral European countries could broker a peace, but now House planned to propose that the U.S. government mediate a peace deal. House knew his mission was urgent. Although the Germans had temporarily paused their submarine attacks on commercial ships, both he and President Wilson believed the attacks would soon resume. If that happened, it would be nearly impossible for the U.S. to stay out of the conflict. And war was the last thing Wilson needed.

At the start of 1916, the president was about to enter a re-election campaign, and he intended to campaign on the slogan, He Kept Us Out of War. That wouldn't work if America was forced into the fray before the November election. So Wilson sent House to Europe to make the case for an American-mediated peace without victory. Under this plan, the U.S. would encourage the warring nations of Europe to call a ceasefire and negotiate their way to peace rather than continue to pursue a military victory.

As part of that U.S.-engineered settlement, a League of Nations would be formed. Wilson had grown especially fond of this idea. He imagined this League would enable the world to settle future disputes without first resorting to war. But like Henry Ford before him, Edward House soon found that none of the combatants were prepared to put down their weapons.

Over lunch on January 12, the British Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey dismissed Wilson's request to relax the naval blockade of Germany in order to smooth the path to peace. The British hoped America would eventually join the war and add pressure on Germany, and Grey believed that if Britain relaxed the blockade, the Germans would no longer have any reason to attack commercial vessels, and that would reduce the chances of the U.S. entering the war.

In Berlin, House met with a German chancellor who agreed to consider peace only on the condition that Germany be allowed to keep the territory they had captured in Belgium and Poland. The Germans also informed House that they believed unrestricted submarine warfare was the only way to beat the British blockade and win the war. And if that meant war with America, too, so be it.

Then in Paris in February, French officials told House that peace without victory was unacceptable to them. France had lost territory to Germany, and they would keep fighting until they regained it. Privately, the French also thought that House's only mission was to help bolster President Wilson's image as a man of peace ahead of his re-election campaign, and the president certainly needed a boost.

In early 1916, Wilson's chances of four more years in the White House looked slim. Wilson had hoped his belief in neutrality would win the day. But his Republican opponent, Supreme Court Justice Charles Evan Hughes, was a strong advocate of preparedness, and the public mood was moving in that direction. Over the summer, a tug-of-war between the pacifist and preparedness movements intensified. In cities nationwide, both sides took to the streets.

In New York City, the Anti-Preparedness Committee pushed through the streets a huge papier-mâché stegosaurus named Jingo, a reference to jingoism, or extreme patriotism. The marchers next to it held signs that declared, This animal believed in huge armament. He's now extinct.

But the preparedness rallies drew even bigger crowds. In New York and Chicago, more than 100,000 people joined preparedness parades. And all around the nation, people enrolled in preparedness camps, where they underwent military training and even took part in mock battles. And then, as the pendulum of public opinion fully swung toward U.S. involvement, violence erupted.

On July 22nd, at the preparedness day in San Francisco, a pipe bomb exploded in the crowd, killing 10 people and injuring 44 more. Police blamed members of a militant labor group called the Wobblies, though they were later freed after it was proved they were convicted using false testimonies. The real culprits were never identified. And just two weeks after the attack in San Francisco, another terrorist attack shocked the nation.

On July 30, 1916, the depot at Black Tom Island off Jersey City was packed with munitions. More than two million pounds of artillery shells, small arms, and TNT were being held on barges and freight cars ready to be loaded onto ships and destined for the Allied powers.

But just after midnight, a series of small fires erupted on the pier, causing huge explosions that shattered thousands of windows in Manhattan, shook bridges, and flung debris up to a mile, including into the Statue of Liberty's torch. Four people died, and $20 million worth of property was damaged.

Investigators concluded the explosion was the work of German spies who were known to be active in the U.S. The destruction of the arms on Black Tom Island would benefit the Central Powers, and though the saboteurs were never found, the attack would soon lead the U.S. to introduce new anti-espionage laws and build up its intelligence services. But even this violence wasn't enough to shake President Wilson from his commitment to neutrality, which he still viewed as his ticket to re-election.

His opponent, Charles Hughes, spent his campaign criticizing Wilson's neutrality as well as his opposition to granting women the right to vote. And as Election Day neared, it seemed as if Hughes might win. But when the results arrived in November 1916, Wilson beat Hughes at the ballot box by a mere 23 electoral college votes. It was a narrow victory, but enough to hold on to the White House.

Wilson had secured a second term by campaigning on the peace ticket, but soon his resolve would be tested. Imagine it's January 17th, 1917, and you're in a small room inside the headquarters at the British Royal Navy in London. You work here as a codebreaker in room 40, and what you do here is so secret that you're not even sure the British Prime Minister knows about it.

That's because your job is to decode intercepted diplomatic communications. You reach into the huge tin box in the middle of the room. Inside are the latest intercepts waiting to be decoded. Your colleague looks up from the desk. All right, so what have you pulled out of the hat? American? German? Something else? You check the note attached to the message. German cable sent yesterday from Berlin. Which line are you coming on? They sent it on the American State Department's line.

Your colleague raises an eyebrow. That's pretty brazen of the Germans to use the American's line, even if it is a coded message. I know. I'm sure they thought there was no chance we'd intercept it. You take your seat and get to work, slowly but surely deciphering the encrypted message. It's from the German former minister, Arthur Zimmerman, and it's for the German ambassador in Mexico.

Step by step, the message becomes clear. Germany believes America will soon join the war. And if that happens, Zimmerman wants the ambassador to make the Mexicans an offer.

Your jaw drops as you decode the details of the article. Then you leap from your seat and rush out of room 40, down the corridor, and into the office of Admiral Hall, who oversees your work. You close the door behind you. Admiral, you need to see this. The Germans intend to ask Mexico to join in a military alliance against America. As an incentive, they're offering a return of Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas troops.

The Admiral snatches the message from your hands and starts reading. You know you shouldn't talk out of turn, but you can't resist. Admiral, if that doesn't get the Yanks off the fence, I don't know what will. The Admiral only nods, absorbed in Zimmerman's decoded telegram. You know that if he chooses to share this information with the Americans, it could change the course of the war.

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Britain would spend the next month weighing what to do with the Zimmerman telegram. They didn't want the U.S. to know Room 40 existed or that they were intercepting messages sent via the State Department's cable line. But they had no doubt the contents of the message would enrage Americans, and the chance to finally get the U.S. into the war on the side of the Allies was too good to pass up.

So on February 19th, 1917, the British handed over the telegram to the U.S. Embassy in London, claiming they had intercepted the message in Mexico. A few days later, the U.S. Embassy in London informed President Wilson of the telegram's existence. The British hoped this act of German treachery would be the tipping point that finally forced America to declare war. From Wondery, this is the first episode of our series, World War I from American History Tellers.

In our next episode, President Wilson asks Congress for permission to declare war, a secret police force goes hunting for domestic spies, and the first American troops arrive in the trenches of Europe.

American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga. Sound design by Molly Bach. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by Tristan Donovan of Yellow Ant. Research by Louise Byrne, Marina Watson, and David Walensky. Edited by Dorian Marina. Produced by Alita Rozansky.

Our production coordinator is Desi Blaylock. Managing producer, Matt Gant. Senior managing producer, Ryan Moore. Senior producer, Andy Herman. Executive producers, Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondery. Hey, it's Guy Raz here, host of How I Built This, a podcast that gives you a front row seat to how some of the best known companies in the world were built.

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