by Ward Wagher
The Germans had set up a tent in the middle of the field, and a group of officers and gendarmerie waited as Montgomery’s staff car drove up. Erwin Rommel, the German Field Marshall stepped away from the group and walked over to shake Montgomery’s hand as he got out of the car.
“You have my sympathies on your loss,” he said to the British general officer. “Your men fought courageously and well.”
Montgomery nodded. “Thank you, Herr General. I appreciate your gracious terms.”
“I have no desire to pillage your army. You have been cooperative in laying down your arms. I know the internment here will not be pleasant, but we do not desire to make it any more difficult than necessary.”
“I only wish we could stop this war,” Montgomery said.
“We are perfectly willing to end the war,” Rommel said. “Your prime minister is quite stubborn, however.”
“I, of course, cannot speak to that,” Montgomery said dryly. “But we will give you every cooperation in setting up the camps. We cannot, of course, divulge sensitive military information.”
“That is understood. Of course, anything that is freely said by your officers and men is considered fair game.”
“And, I understand that.”
“Shall we enter the tent, then, Sir?” Rommel said.
Montgomery stifled a sigh. “Very well, Herr General.”
The terms of surrender were not complex. The British armies in Egypt and the Levant would lay down their arms and be interned by the Germans. Any British forces in Iraq, Arabia and Persia would withdraw to India. Any Royal Navy ships in the Mediterranean could freely leave under the flag of truce. That would expire in one week, whereupon any Royal Navy ships would either surrender or be fired upon.
As of May 10, 1942, Germany and Italy owned northern Africa from Casablanca to Cairo, and controlled the territory sweeping through Palestine, up into the Levant to Beirut. This was not the result of the lightning thrusts so beloved by the Wehrmacht, but rather a brutal slugging match that pitted the best of the Germans against the premier British army.
Winston Churchill sat in his office on 10 Downing Street and puffed on the ever-present cigar as he pondered the future of the United Kingdom. He looked at the decanter of whiskey on the sideboard and decided that he had already had too much. And he was due to leave momentarily for a prayer service with the King at Westminster Abbey.
He wondered if the Almighty had a grudge against the British Empire. The romantic and the realist warred within his psyche. He was casting about for ways to preserve the empire and the British way of life. The empire had been a globe striding giant. It had planted colonies in every hemisphere and watered them with the blood of Englishmen. Yet, even before this infernal war, the signs were there. The free-thinkers now reacted against a world created by the resident powers and deemed imperialism a dirty word.
One of the greatest evils the world had ever seen had transformed itself into a force for stability on the continent. Herr Schloss had reversed the German position on the Jewish Question. He had even established a homeland for the Jews in Palestine. He stood between the rest of Europe and a far more dangerous threat to the east. Stalin’s Soviet Union would enslave all it could embrace. All Churchill asked for, now, was a return to status quo ante. And it looked as though Schloss was angling for some sort of home rule for the territories it now controlled. Not only that, but it looked like Australia would fall within the next couple of weeks.
And on the morrow, Churchill would descend into the pit in Commons and face the questions associated with the surrender of a quarter of a million men to the Nazis. He thought his coalition was solid, but the one sure characteristic of the British House of Commons was its sheer unpredictability. Winston decided it was hard to stay upbeat in the face of the recent events.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
May 11, 1942; 8AM
The Oval Office
The White House
Washington, DC, USA
President Henry Wallace removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. The bad news just would not stop. John Curtin, the Australian prime minister, had radioed that his situation was hopeless and he intended to ask the Japanese for terms. The Japanese were crawling all over the Pacific and Southeast Asia like an invasion of ants at a picnic. While the United States was currently friendlier toward Germany than Great Britain, Wallace had hoped that Montgomery’s Eighth Army in North Africa would withstand the German onslaught and keep Europe more or less balanced.
Heinrich Schloss was an enigma. He had come down firmly upon the side of those who wanted to stop the slaughter of innocents in Europe. He had managed what no one else had managed in establishing a homeland in Palestine for the Jews. But, he also showed no sign of relinquishing control of the conquered territories. The State Department and OSS Intelligence sources in Berlin had reported that Schloss was trying to arrange home rule for some of the conquered lands – mainly Czechoslovakia and the Low Countries. Churchill was stubbornly refusing to acquiesce. And the Americans now had little influence in the Court of St. James’s. Wallace wondered if it would be wise to settle with the Japanese.
With a light tap on the door, Wallace’s secretary stepped in. “Senator Truman and Mr. Wilkie to see you, Sir.”
Wallace stood and walked around the desk to greet his guests. “Gentlemen, thank you for seeing me today.”
“Always glad to be of assistance, Mr. President,” Harry Truman said. Wendell Wilkie merely nodded.
“Please, have a seat.” Wallace nodded to the sofas facing each other across the coffee table. A silver coffee service graced the table, and the aroma of hot coffee leaked from the pitcher.
“Mr. Wilkie, I appreciate your very public support for the administration since the beginning of the war,” Wallace said, “and I know President Roosevelt did, too.”
“Mr. President,” Wilkie said in his whisky voice, “all Americans support you in this war. We truly have to pull together if we are going to beat the Japanese menace.”
“Thank you,” Wallace said. He looked at Truman. “Senator, I appreciate you coming today as well. It is my desire to gain your assistance in supporting the morale of the nation. I have spoken to the leaders in the press and the movie industry. They have committed to producing documentaries of you two traveling around the country. This will not be a full-time job, but I would be delighted if you could commit to several trips.”
Truman nodded. “Of course, Mr. President. I would be delighted.”
Wilkie had helped himself to the coffee and pulled out one of his ever-present cigarettes. “I am completely at your disposal, Sir.”
“America owes you two a great thanks,” Wallace said. “The White House staff will contact you with the details. Thank you, again, for coming today. Senator, if you would remain behind...”
All three men stood up, understanding that the first meeting was over. Wilkie shook the president’s hand and left the Oval Office. Truman and Wallace stood studying one another.
“I am curious as to what you are thinking, Senator,” Wallace said.
Truman smiled slightly. “I was thinking that there went a man who might have been the president of the United States. I thank God that is not the case.”
Wallace laughed. “Considering the circumstances surrounding my elevation, I do not even know how to respond.”
“Bess tells me that I say exactly what I am thinking far too often. She is probably right.”
“I least I know where I stand with you.”
“A renegade Republican who slid into office on Roosevelt’s coat tails,” Truman said. “However, you are the man in the chair, now. And I cannot fault the way you have managed things so far.”
Henry Wallace was originally a Republican, but agreed to serve as Roosevelt’s Secretary of Agriculture. He later joined the Democratic Party. As a result, the Republicans hated him, and the Democrats distrusted him.
“Well, thank you for that, I guess,” Walla
ce said. “How have you managed not to have someone punch you out on the Senate floor?”
“The Senate is a civilized place, Mr. President. My opponents have merely threatened to punch me out.”
Wallace laughed again. “I am getting ready to upset the Congress, I am afraid.”
“The Congress seems to exist in a continual state of dyspepsia,” Truman said. “And they are having trouble coming to a consensus about your presidency.”
“I have had trouble coming to terms with it,” Wallace said. “For better or worse the Almighty has put me in this office. I am obliged to do the best I can to discharge my responsibilities. I feel somewhat adrift with Franklin gone.”
“Did President Roosevelt confide in you his plans for the current emergency?”
Wallace shook his head. “No. We often spoke together about our plans for the country, but after December twelfth, events moved so fast we did not have time to consult.”
“I don’t claim to have a corner on the world’s knowledge,” Truman said, “and recent events have taken on a momentum of their own. How may I help?”
“Two things, Senator. You should probably sit down. I noticed you eying the coffee pot. Please help yourself.”
Truman raised an eyebrow and poured some coffee into one of the cups. “This is very good coffee, Mr. President.”
“I don’t know where they find it, but it is very good. Something our American farmers have never figured out how to grow. And, getting back to the conversation, I don’t know whether to call this bad news or good news.”
“Should I set my cup down, Mr. President?”
“I said two things. Okay, number one. I am going to use whatever influence I can muster to induce Mr. Churchill to meet with Herr Schloss in Lisbon. I would like you to referee. We really need to settle that war. We are currently losing the war in the Pacific and we need to free up the British so they can help us.”
“I thought Churchill hated you.”
“Churchill is a politician. Your job is to convince him that he is doing his country no good by persisting in this war. I suspect Schloss is willing to go to some lengths to end it.”
“I am not optimistic about what Schloss is willing to give up, but I of course will do everything I can to put a deal together,” Truman said. “And, I agree. That war has got to stop.”
Wallace nodded. “It will likely take some time to make the arrangements, but I intend to put a lot of pressure on the parties to at least attend the meeting.”
“And you said two things, Mr. President.”
Wallace gave Truman an evil smile. “You may regret your impatience, Senator. I intend to submit your name to the Congress for approval to appoint you Vice-President.” He watched Truman for a few moments. “What, Senator? Have you nothing to say?”
Truman looked around the Oval Office and returned his gaze to Wallace. “I… I must confess, Mr. President that you have rendered me speechless. I never thought….”
“I won’t lie to you, Senator,” Wallace said. “When Roosevelt put me on the ticket I had no thoughts of succeeding him if something happened. But, I joined the ticket because I thought I could be useful to my friend. And, by God, considering what I have experienced the past several months, I would have never sought this office. I have some sense that you are of the same mind. You are in Washington because you want to serve.”
“Independence, Missouri is a much nicer town than this, Mr. President,” Truman said. “I will do whatever you want me to do, Sir. It is an honor to serve.”
“Thank you, Senator. Among other things, I need a sounding board. I am surrounded by Roosevelt’s people, and most of them are very good. But, I don’t know who to trust. You are something of an outsider in the Senate. And you have earned the trust of some important folks. I need your help.”
“Let me repeat, Mr. President, I am honored to serve. Let me caution you that when you ask, I will give you unvarnished advice.”
“I make no excuses for my actions, good or ill,” Wallace said. “And I don’t shoot the messenger. And I heard about the sign on your desk.”
Truman smiled again. “I don’t like to make a big deal about it, Mr. President, but I don’t make excuses, either. What we do comes with a great deal of responsibility and I must accept that.”
“Do I have your agreement, then, Senator?”
“I must talk to Bess about this,” Truman said. “I can give you an answer tomorrow morning, if you wish.”
“That would be fine. If it must be said, I ask that you speak to no one else about this.”
“Of course,” Truman said. “You have my word of honor.”
The two men sat looking at each other for a few moments. Then Wallace spoke again.
“You know, I wonder if Wilkie walked in here curious if I was going to offer the vice-presidency to him.”
Truman muttered a barnyard oath, and Wallace laughed loudly. “I see your opinion is similar to mine.”
“Wilkie is more liberal than you might think,” Truman said. “But having someone with no political experience in that position is frightening. In fact, I wonder what the Republicans were thinking when they nominated him in 1940.”
“He and Roosevelt were surprisingly friendly,” Wallace said. “That had a lot of people concerned.”
“More so than a renegade Republican?” Truman asked with a one-sided smile.
“Well, that too.”
§ § §
May 15, 1942; 7AM
Near Cape Horn
South America
Captain Simon Magruder scanned the ocean with his binoculars. He counted the sails of seventeen U-Boats, which was the same number of seaworthy boats that had survived the blast in La Spezia. The Navy had found him another ship, the U.S.S. Fulton, which was a sub tender, rather than a cargo ship. He had led his small fleet south from Norfolk to go around the horn, and head for San Diego. The mountainous winter seas made for tough going. The heavy weather tended to break things on the ships. The U-Boats did not have the range or precise navigation to make this segment of the voyage submerged. He doubted the crews were very happy at the moment.
Commander Wade Kuklo stepped out of the bridge and moved next to Magruder. He grabbed the rail as the ship heaved and rolled.
“Commodore, our position puts us past the cape. We can begin angling north.”
Magruder took another look at the struggling U-Boats. “Thank God. Okay, Captain, do you have a new course ready?”
“Yes, Sir. I recommend the task force come to 300 magnetic.”
“Very well,” Magruder said. “Please signal the task force of the course change, and execute.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
While Magruder was a Navy captain and the commander of the task force, he did not command the Fulton. That was the job of Commander Kuklo. Since there could be no confusion of command on a United States Navy ship, the commander of the task force was addressed as Commodore, and the Fulton’s skipper was addressed as Captain.
“And if we can get past this dirty weather, maybe we will have an easy run up the coast.”
“We can hope, Sir,” Kuklo said, “we can hope.”
A few days later the task force met up with four destroyers that were sent out to guide the small fleet into San Diego. There were Japanese submarines around, and no one wanted any more losses until the U-Boats could be put into action.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
May 20, 1942; 3PM
Governing Council Chamber
Reichschancellery
Berlin, Germany
The governing council of the Reich met twice weekly in Berlin. Schloss kept the schedule, although the number of attendees fluctuated as the various members of the government were out of town. When everyone was present, the meeting consisted of Schloss and his secretary, Willem Kirche. Also present was Ribbentrop, the foreign minister. Peter Schreiber covered the Reich Office of Communications. Goering represented the armed forces and Canaris was there for foreign i
ntelligence. Karl Rainer headed the SS and was a member of the government. And they were all present on this day.
“Does anyone know anything about this Truman fellow?” Goering asked.
“He was a member of the American upper house since about 1935,” Canaris said. “He is also a colonel in the American military reserves. He was placed in office as a reward for his services to another politician. He is a nonentity.”
“I understand he is well thought of in the American upper house,” Ribbentrop said.
Truman saved Berlin with the airlift when the Russians tried to choke us, Schloss thought. He is as hard as nails and this group is underestimating him.
“How comfortable are you with your sources on this, Admiral?” Schloss asked Canaris.
“We have looked at the publicly available materials. We do not have any sources that personally know the man.”
And he is perfectly willing to accept what he reads. He is another hold-over that I am going to have to do something about eventually.
“Herr Foreign Minister, will you share the note from the Americans with us, please?”
“Of course, Herr Reichschancellor.”
Ribbentrop was so pleased to deliver the message that he was almost insufferable. Schreiber sat with his hand over his mouth to cover up the smile. Goering and Canaris looked disgusted. Rainer merely watched the room.
