The End of War - A Novel of the Race for Berlin - [World War II 02] (54 page)

Churchill gently reminds the President of the agreements made at Malta. In those preparatory meetings to Yalta held by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the capture of Berlin was singled out as a priority, and Montgomery’s northern track to Berlin was approved by all.

Churchill forks a bit of lamb, slides it through the slurry of chutney and lays it on his tongue. He sets the emptied fork down on the plate, ringing the china. The food in his mouth is the last he’ll eat tonight, his appetite is gone. Appropriate, he thinks, it was the lamb that finished him off.

The following page is Eisenhower’s response to the Prime Minister, dated April 1. The General insists that he has not changed any plans at all. At all times since Normandy, he claims his intention has been to cross the Rhine and disrupt, destroy, or surround the defending German forces. This is as far as any strategic projections from him have gone. Eisenhower maintains that he has done nothing more than what he always said he would do, exploit opportunities and enemy weaknesses as they appear.

Eisenhower explains again to the Prime Minister that he must first concentrate in the center with Bradley. To shift forces north to Montgomery now would be to allow himself
to be dispersed by attempting to do all these projects at once,
and that he cannot allow. But if the German resistance should crumble,
if at any moment collapse should suddenly come about everywhere along the front, we would rush forward, and Lübeck and Berlin would be included in our important targets.

Transparent, thinks Churchill, a clear attempt to mollify the Prime Minister and shut him up on the topic of Berlin. Eisenhower as much as said it: if there is
collapse everywhere along the front,
we’ll go after Berlin. Shy of that miracle—which will not come to pass so long as Hitler is alive, and Hitler will stay alive so long as Berlin is unconquered by someone!—don’t bother asking again.

There are three pages left.

The first is Stalin’s response to SCAF 252, received in London April 2. Stalin informs Eisenhower that Berlin has also lost its status as a critical target for the Soviets. Churchill guffawed when he read this the first time. Stalin give up Berlin? He’d sooner abandon Moscow!

Churchill peels this page away with a shake of his head. Who could believe this nonsense? Only those who want to. The Americans.

The Turnip ticks with impatient taps on the desk. Churchill pours himself one more tall glass of champagne. He will not drink it, he’s had enough, he simply enjoys the cheer it sends up from the flute.

But Churchill is not buoyed by the fizz, the pink, the moist odor hovering over the last two pages lying before him. He knows the unsatisfying place this story leads.

After Stalin’s reply Churchill tried one last time to convince Eisenhower to move on Berlin. His logic was, if Eisenhower wants to behave as though he is conducting a candid and truthful correspondence with Stalin, then the General ought to be encouraged to rely on Stalin accordingly:

prime minister to general eisenhower 2 apr. 45

thank you again for your most kind telegram. ... i am however all the more impressed with the importance of entering berlin, which may well be open to us, by the reply from moscow to you, which in paragraph 3 says, “berlin has lost its former strategic importance.” this should be read in light of what i mentioned of the political aspects. i deem it highly important that we should shake hands with the russians as far to the east as possible. . . .

again my congratulations on the great developments. much may happen in the west before the date of stalin’s main offensive.

Much may happen in the West before Stalin’s attack. Yes, indeed. Much
has
happened. The German defense in the west is thin and disjointed. The Allied armies in the north—especially Simpson’s Ninth U.S. Army, now operating under Bradley—-have made spectacular leaps, dashing eastward almost unimpeded. They grow nearer to the Elbe every day. Before the week is out, at this pace, they’ll be within striking distance of Berlin with only shaky resistance before them. But will Eisenhower unleash them to cross the Elbe and rush for the German capital, as he promised in his letter? Will the Allies beat the Reds to the punch?

The definitive answer came on April 4.
Top Secret and Personal from the President to the Prime Minister.
It was clear to Churchill that Roosevelt’s hand was not in this message. The language had the unmistakable terseness of General Marshall, lacking at the end even the informal, friendly closing the President always adds in his messages to the PM.

as to the “far reaching changes desired by general eisenhower in the plans that had been concerted by the command chiefs of staff at malta and had received your and my joint approval,” i do not get the point. for example, the strength and all the resources agreed upon for the northern group of armies were made available to montgomery. following the unexpected remagen bridgehead and the destruction of the german armies in the saar basin there developed so great a weakness on those fronts that the secondary efforts realized an outstanding success. this fact must have a very important relation to the further conduct of the battle. however, general eisenhower’s directive of april 2, it seems to me, does all and possibly a little more to the north than was anticipated at malta. leipzig is not far removed from berlin, which is well within the center of the combined effort. at the same time the british army is given what seems to me very logical objectives on the northern flank. . . .

i appreciate your generous expressions of confidence in eisenhower and i have always been deeply appreciative of the backing you have given him and the fact that you yourself proposed him for this command. i regret that the phrasing of a formal discussion should have so disturbed you but i regret even more that at the moment of a great victory by our combined forces we should become involved in such unfortunate reactions.

So that’s it, Churchill thinks. When words like
regret
and
unfortunate reactions
and
I do not get the point
crop up in correspondence; when it was agreed at Malta between all parties that Berlin was a principal target and now to read that such was never the case; when Montgomery’s mission— along with British prestige, sentenced to second-class status—has been relegated to what is called
logical objectives;
these are clear and present signs that this particular affair has gone too far. Churchill has wheedled and scolded, made arguments of logic and emotion, and been rebuffed each time, at every level. Time, as the Americans say, to “take the hint.”

The Americans have done a masterful job of hiding political and personal agendas behind sound military strategy. Without ever saying it, they do their master’s bidding, as they should. Their master is the President. For his own well-known purposes, over Churchill’s well-documented objections, Roosevelt wants Stalin to have Berlin. So Stalin shall.

Churchill lays the final page of this sad series to the side. He pulls to him a sheet of stationery and his pen. The blank paper beckons a fight for one more round, it is full of possibility with its whiteness. The tick-tocking Turnip says there’s time left, still time to pick up the cudgels again.

But this game is lost, Churchill thinks. There will be others, many others, to follow.

He writes an end, feeling mealymouthed.

prime minister to president roosevelt. personal and top secret 5 apr. 45

i still think it was a pity that eisenhower’s telegram was sent to stalin without anything being said to our chiefs of staff or to our deputy, air chief marshal tedder, or to our commander-in-chief marshal montgomery. the changes in the main plan have now turned out to be very much less than we at first supposed. my personal relations with general eisenhower are of the most friendly character. i regard the matter as closed and to prove my sincerity i will use one of my very few latin quotations, “amantium irae amoris integratio est.”

“Lovers’ quarrels always go with true love.”

Churchill changes his mind about the champagne. He reaches for the tall glass and drains it in one hoist.

England has quit the race for Berlin. It’s over. He rings for Jock to come clear his desk of plates and apostasy. Churchill grinds the cigar between his incisors, waiting for the secretary. Capitulation makes him want to do something, take some action. All he can do in this case is chew the cigar. There’s one chance left. Not Montgomery. The British are ruled out.

But all this chicanery is taking place behind the scenes, through top-secret cables and letters. Maybe some plucky American commander in the field, who doesn’t know he’s not supposed to, will take the bit in his teeth and go, go so fast past buckling German resistance that he’s in Berlin before Eisenhower and Roosevelt can stop him. That would change everything.

Whoever you are, Churchill thinks,
if
you are: Godspeed.

~ * ~

April 12, 1945, 1:00
p.m.

The Little White House

Warm Springs, Georgia

“please, mr. president,” the artist says. “try to sit quietly. just
a while longer.”

Roosevelt clears his throat and attempts again to be still.

“You look very handsome today.” The woman painter daubs the canvas at her easel. Roosevelt has noted the tinge on her bristles right now is sanguine. His face must be showing good color.

“Better than yesterday?”

“Yes, Mr. President. Better than yesterday.”

He expected her to backtrack, to be mindful of his ego, but the artist eyes her portrait’s details and says no more for the moment.

Roosevelt composes his head and shoulders, then risks lowering his gaze to the newspaper on the desk in front of him. A copy of the
Atlanta Constitution
displays the headline: “9th—57 Miles from Berlin.”

The Second Armored Division of the Ninth U.S. Army has reached the Elbe and is preparing to establish a bridgehead south of Magdeburg. The Ninth’s Eighty-third Division is only a day behind and should reach the river in stride.

No reports have come in yet that the Soviets have jumped out of the gate from their positions on the Oder. The impossible has happened. American troops are as close to Berlin as the Reds. Remarkable, when they were two hundred miles out just a week ago. The U.S. forces in place are strong enough to have a go at the city.

Is some crazy commander in the Ninth going to make a grab for Berlin without orders? Roosevelt imagines tomorrow’s headline: “Berlin Falls to US. Army.”

If that happens, if that even looks like it might happen, Stalin will erupt. Churchill will fan the flames. Hitler will head for the hills. Everything will tilt way out of balance.

Roosevelt lifts his eyes from the news page to the painter. He’s glad to find he’s not concerned. Like this artist staring at her canvas, confident, touching texture and tint to the whole one jot at a time, Roosevelt has crafted the situation in Europe carefully, a dab here, a stroke there, years of vision and coddling. Politics and the military, blended on his palette. Everything will sit still and the final portrait will be captured just the way he’s envisioned it. Nothing is going to change that. Not the Ninth U.S. Army, that’s for certain.

He looks to the faces of the women in the room with him. He loves this rustic cottage, the Little White House. He can sit in any spot and demand privacy just by closing his eyes, receive attention just by opening his mouth. The women adore him. He’s even charmed this painter, a Russian lady, Shoumatoff, into a chatty intimacy. Today is a fine, warm day, and the warmth seems to permeate him, it’s there in the looks of the women, in the clement colors the painter puts in his face.

What to do with Stalin? This nasty business about the secret meeting in Bern. Uncle Joe has certainly shown himself to be a sharp-tongued jerk along with being a dictator. In an April 4 message, Stalin as much as called Roosevelt a liar. Or an old fool, take your pick. He claimed that the President of the United States has
not been fully informed
about events in Switzerland. Stalin insists that something rotten is being done by his allies behind his back, no matter how strongly worded the denials have come from the British and Americans. Roosevelt spat back, deciding it was time to give Stalin as good as he gave for once. He opened his response with:
I have received in astonishment your message. . . .
The note finished on an equally stern footing:
Frankly, I cannot avoid a feeling of bitter resentment toward your informers, whoever they are, for such vile misrepresentations of my actions or those of my trusted subordinates.