Conger's deception operations began to unfold as planned on August 28. Fox Conner dispatched an order to Bundy directing the Sixth Corps commander to proceed to Belfort. Once there, he was to prepare detailed plans for a large-scale offensive to overrun Mulhausen and fight on to the Rhine River, thirteen miles farther east. He was to plan for an initial assault force of seven divisions: the Twenty-ninth, Eightieth, Thirty-fifth, Seventieth, Ninety-first, Seventy-eighth, and Thirty-sixth. Bundy was told that the assault would come as a surprise to the hapless Huns, so the planners should consider using minimal artillery.

The Sixth Corps commander was then informed that Pershing himself intended to take command of the enterprise and that negotiations were in progress to accommodate First Army headquarters at Belfort. D-day was to be no later than September 8. In order to assist Bundy in the detailed planning for this great American onslaught to the Rhine, an AEF staff officer, Colonel Arthur L. Conger, was being made available to instruct some twenty-one staff officers from the assault divisions that were ordered to report to the Sixth Corps commander at Belfort. General Bundy was further told to take as many of his own staff officers to Belfort as he saw fit and to send frequent telegraphic reports. Finally, Bundy was instructed that Conger would be in Belfort and that the colonel was fully informed as to General Pershing's innermost thoughts on the offensive and that in any case of doubt, he must be consulted.

A veritable blizzard of American staff officers descended on the placid town of Belfort–and that was not all. The energetic Colonel Conger arranged for a flurry of reconnaissance flights over the German lines west of Mulhausen. Then, too, U.S. signal units began to roll into Belfort, erecting radio antennas and swamping the local telegraph and telephone centers with a multitude of messages. Several French tanks were put to work as well. The vehicles were driven through the freshly harvested fields, making tracks into forested areas (no one happened to record what the mystified tank crews thought of all this). The staff officers raced about the countryside, checking bridge capacities and front-line positions. They peered resolutely at the opposing Germans through field glasses, asked endless questions about rail capabilities, toured hospital facilities, and conducted dozens of motor trips to study the region's road network.

On September 1, General Bundy sent a preliminary report to AEF headquarters giving an optimistic appraisal for the chances of an American rush through Mulhausen to the Rhine. Throwing caution to the wind, the veteran of battles with the Moros discounted previous reports of streams, marshy ground, and ponds. He claimed the streams were low and had hard bottoms. He characterized the enemy as being weak. He then hinted that the conditions were so ripe that a full-throated exploitation should be considered. Omar Bundy evidently considered that a limited attack to the Rhine would be too modest in view of the great opportunities at hand. Possibly envisioning a staggering blow to the kaiser, the general boldly stated, now is a most propitious time for launching an attack in this region. Whether or not the Germans were being taken in by all this activity, it was clear to Conger that Bundy had swallowed the ploy–hook, line, and sinker.

Conger himself, however, was losing faith in the whole idea. On the same day that Bundy sped his initial and encouraging appraisal to Pershing's headquarters, the colonel sent his own rather dismal assessment to the AEF chief of staff, his fellow deception plan confidant, General McAndrew. Conger claimed that he had executed all his assigned duties and that the enemy should now be well aware of increased American activity in the Belfort sector. He referred to his planned carelessness with the carbon paper by writing that Various indiscretions have been committed. Conger said that the Allies were somewhat amused by the diligent but obviously amateurish American efforts at deception. He described the French attitude as being, You Americans are very simple-minded indeed if you think you can fool either us or the Germans by any such game as this. Conger stated he could not believe that the enemy would take his efforts seriously since German intelligence in the region was good enough to determine the lack of actual American logistical preparations.

After a few days, the colonel bid Bundy goodbye, saw off the horde of staff planners, and made his own way back to the AEF headquarters to be on hand for the September 9 launch of the St. Mihiel offensive. Arriving at Pershing's headquarters at Chaumont, Conger discovered that the attack date had been slipped to September 12. He was instructed to return once more to Belfort so that the tiresome charade could be extended. The doubting intelligence officer retraced his steps and found that Bundy had never left the town. Conger lied to the general, saying that the scope of the scheme had to be expanded. The U.S. assault would involve a broader front, and the previous reconnaissance simply would not do. Now areas as far away as Luneville, some seventy miles to the north, had to be scouted. The diligent divisional staff officers were promptly recalled. The planning and reconnaissance activity resumed with renewed vigor. By now, however, some of the unwitting Americans were becoming suspicious. If the big push was coming this far south, why were the initial assault divisions, their own units, being moved farther to the north, toward the Argonne Forest? Perhaps feeling a bit foolish at this stage, Conger played his part, kept a straight face, and pressed the planning forward. Through all this, there was no indication that the chief planner, General Bundy, was ever discouraged in the slightest.

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