Winds of War (74 page)

“‘
Mr. Roosevelt today committed and act of war, turning over to a warring power a goodly portion of the United States Navy. We get in exchange leases on the British possessions. What good will these leases be if Hitler should acquire title to these islands by right of conquest? Of all sucker real estate deals in history, this is the worst. If Mr. Roosevelt gets away with this, we may as well say good-bye to our liberties and make up or minds that henceforth we live under a dictatorship.’”

“That’s a Roosevelt
supporter
talking,” observed Anderson, puffing violently on the cigar. “Now, we’re proceeding from here to a dinner at the Army and Navy Club, in half an hour or so, with some British generals and admirals. We already have the list of the war materials they want. It would strip our armed forces clean. We have to make cabled recommendations to the President within five days. He’s already let them have – in addition to these fifty warships – virtually all our seventy-five-millimeter field guns, several squadrons of naval aircraft, half a million rifles, millions of rounds of ammunition –”

“He hasn’t given ‘em away, General,” Benton observed. “The Limeys have paid cash on the barrelhead.”

“Yes, luckily the Neutrality Act compels that, but still it was a goddamned lie to call the stuff surplus. Surplus! We don’t have any surplus! You know that. Fifty destroyers! All this without any authorization from Congress. All things we’re short of. And now Congress is passing a draft law. Our boys will be drilling with broomsticks! There’s going to be an accounting one day, you know. If the British fold and this stuff winds up in German hands – a possibility to be reckoned with – the accounting will not be far off. All who have taken part in these transactions, or even advocated them” – here General Anderson turned a belligerent face at Victor Henry – “I warn you, stand a good chance of hanging from lamp posts on Constitution Avenue.”

After a silence, Admiral Benton said mildly, folding his hands over his stomach, “Well, Pug, I’ve told these gentlemen that I know you, and that any dope you put out is reliable. We’ve got a big responsibility. We’ve been handed one hell of a hot potato. So get down to the short hairs. What makes you think the British will keep fighting, after the way the French folded? No horseshit now.”

“All right, Admiral.”

To begin, with, Victor Henry said, the British had made better use than the French of the time between the wars. He described their scientific advances, the strength and disposition of the battle fleet, the fighter control system he had seen at Uxbridge, the figures of German and British plane losses, the morale of the fliers, the preparations along the invasion beaches, the Chain Home stations, the production of aircraft. Fitzgerald listened with his eyes closed, his head flung back, his fingers dancing. Benton stared gravely at Pug, pulling at an ear as he had in War Plans meetings. Train Anderson, wreathing himself in smoke, also looked hard at Pug, though the glare was fading to a frigid calculating expression.

Pug gave as sober and clear an account as he could, but it was an effort. As he plodded through his military facts, Pamela Tudsbury shimmered in his mind’s eye, shifting with afterimages of the flight over Berlin. He felt in an undisciplined mood and was hard put to it to keep a respectful tone.

“Now wait, Pug, this RDF you’re so hot on,” Benton interposed, “that’s nothing but radar, isn’t it? We’ve got radar. You were with me aboard the
New York
for the tests.”

“We haven’t got this kind of radar, sir.” Victor Henry described in detail the cavity magnetron. The senior officers began glancing at each other. He added, “And they’ve even started installing the stuff in their night fighters.”

General Fitzgerald sat straight up. “Airborne
radar
? What about the weight problem?”

“They’ve licked it.”

“Then they’ve developed something new.”

“They have, General.”

Fitzgerald turned a serious gaze on Train Anderson, who stubbed out his cigar, observing to the admiral, “Well, I’ll say this, your man makes out a case, at least. We’ve got to come across anyhow, since that’s what Mr. Big wants. What we can do is exercise tight control item by item, and that by God we will do. And get trade-offs like that cavity thing, wherever possible.” He regarded Henry through half-shut eyes. “Very well. Suppose they do hold out? Suppose Hitler doesn’t invade? What’s their future? What’s their plan? What can they do against a man who controls all Europe?”

“Well, I can give you the official line,” Victor Henry said. “I’ve heard it often enough. Hold him back in 1940. Pass him in air power in 1941, with British and American production. Shoot the Luftwaffe out of the skies in 1942 and 1943. Bomb their cities and factories to bits if they don’t surrender. Invade and conquer in 1944.”

“With what? Ten or fifteen divisions against two hundred?”

“Actually, General, I think the idea is simpler. Hang on until we get in.”

“Now you’re talking. But then what?”

General Fitzgerald said very quietly, “Why, then
we
pound Germany from the air, Train, with the bomber fleet we’re building. A few months of that, and we land to accept the surrender, if anyone’s alive to crawl out of the rubble.”

Raising an eyebrow at Victor Henry, Admiral Benton said, “How’s that sound, Pug?”

Victor Henry hesitated to answer.

“You’re dubious?” General Fitzgerald observed amiably.

“General, I’ve just been out pounding Germany from the air. Twenty-four bombers went on the mission. Fifteen returned. Of those, four didn’t bomb the right target. Navigation was off, they had operational troubles, there were German decoy fires, and so forth. Two didn’t bomb
any
target. They got lost, wandered around in the dark, then dropped their bombs in the ocean and homed back on the BBC. In one mission they lost a third of the attacking force.”

“This business is in its infancy,” smiled Fitzgerald. “Twenty-four bombers. Suppose there’d been a thousand, with much heavier payloads? And at that, they did get the gasworks.”

“Yes, sir. They got the gasworks.”

“How do
you
think it’s going to go?” General Anderson said brusquely to Henry.

“Sir, I think sooner or later a couple of million men will have to land in France and fight the German army.”

With an unpleasant grunt, Train Anderson touched his left shoulder. “Land in France, hey? I landed in France in 1918. I got a German bullet through my shoulder in the Argonne. I don’t know what that accomplished. Do you?”

Victor Henry did not answer.

“Okay.” Train Anderson rose. “Let’s be on our way, gentlemen. Our British cousins await us.”

“I’ll be right along,” Benton said. When the Army men were gone he slapped Victor Henry’s shoulder. “Well done. These Limeys are holding the fort for us. We’ve got to help ‘em. But Jesus God, they’re not bashful in their requests! The big crunch comes when they run out of dollars. They can’t even pay for this list of stuff, without selling their last holdings in America. What comes next? It beats me. The boss man will have to figure a way to give ‘em the stuff. He’s a slippery customer and I guess he will. Say, that reminds me –” He reached into a breast pocket and brought out a letter.
Victory Henry
, in his wife’s small handwriting, was the only address on the envelope, which was much thicker than usual.

“Thank you, Admiral.”

The admiral was fumbling in his pockets. “No, there’s something else. Damn, I couldn’t have – no, here we are. Whew! That’s a relief.”

It was a White House envelope. Pug slipped both letters into his pocket.

“Say, Pug, for a gunnery officer you’ve painted yourself into a peculiar corner. That screwball socialist in the White House thinks a lot of you, which may or may not be a good thing. I’d better mosey along. Rhoda sounded fine when I talked to her, only a little sad.” Benton sighed and stood. “They have to put up with a lot, the gals. Good thing she didn’t know about that bomber ride. Now that you’re back I sort of envy you. But me, I’m absurdly fond of my ass, Pug. I’m not getting it shot off except in the line of duty. I command that thought to you hereafter.”

Blinker Vance took off big black-rimmed glasses and stepped out from behind his desk to throw an arm around Pug. “Say, I want to hear all about that joyride one of these days. How did it go with the big brass?”

“All right.”

“Good. There’s a dispatch here for you from BuPers.” He peeled a tissue off a clipboard hung on the wall, and handed it to Pug.

VICTOR HENRY DETACHED TEMPORARY DUTY LONDON X RETURN BERLIN UNTIL RELIEVED ON OR ABOUT 1 NOVEMBER X THEREUPON DETACHED TO PROCEED WASHINGTON HIGHEST AIR PRIORITY X REPORT BUPERS FOR FURTHER REASSIGNMENT X

Vance said, “Glad you’ll be getting out of Berlin?”

“Overjoyed.”

“Thought you’d be. Transportation tells me they’ve got priority to Lisbon available on the fourteenth.”

“Grab it.”

“Right.” With a knowing little smile, Vance added, “Say, maybe you and that nice little Tudsbury girl can have a dinner with me and Lady Maude tomorrow night.”

Several times Blinker had asked Victor Henry to join them for dinner. Pug knew and liked Blinker’s wife and six children. Avoiding a censorious tone, he had declined the invitations. Victor Henry knew how common these things were – “
Wars and lechery, nothing else holds fashion
” - but he had not felt like endorsing Blinker’s shack-up. Vance now was renewing the bid, and his smile was reminding Pug that on telephoning the flat, he found Pamela there.

“I’ll let you know, Blinker. I’ll call you later.”

“Fine!” Vance’s grin broadened at not being turned down. “Lady Maude will be charmed, and my God, Pug, she has a fabulous wine cellar.”

Victor Henry returned to the bench in Grosvenor Square. The sun still shone, the flag still waved. But it was just a sticky London evening like any other. The strange brightness was out of the air.

The President’s hasty penciled scrawl was on a yellow legal sheet this time.

Pug -

Your bracing reports have been a grand tonic that I needed. The war news has been so bad, and now the Republicans have gone and put up a fine candidate in Wendell Willkie! Come November, you just might be working for a new boss. Then you can slip the chain and get out to sea! Ha ha!

Thank you especially for alerting us on their radar. The British are sending over a scientific mission in September, with all their “wizard war” stuff, as Churchill calls it. We’ll be very sure to follow that up! There’s something heartwarming about Churchill’s interest in landing craft, isn’t there? Actually he’s right, and I’ve asked for a report from CNO. Get as much of their material as you can.

FDR

Pug stuffed the vigorous scrawl in his pocket like any other note, and opened his wife’s letter. It was a strange one.

She had just turned on the radio, she wrote, heard an old record of “Three O’Clock in the Morning,” and burst out crying. She reminisced about their honeymoon, when they had danced so often to that song; about his long absence in 1918; about their good times in Manila and in Panama. With Palmer Kirby, who now kept a small office in New York, she had just driven up to New London to visit Byron - a glorious two-day trip through the autumn foliage of Connecticut. Red Tully had told her that Byron was lazy in his written work, but very good in the simulator and in submarine drills. She had asked Byron about the Jewish girl.

The way he changed the subject, I think maybe all that is over. He got a peculiar look on his face, but said nary a word. Wouldn’t
that
be a relief!

You know that Janice is pregnant, don’t you? You must have heard from them. Those kids didn’t waste much time, hey? Like father like son, is all I can say! But the thought of being a GRANDMOTHER!!! In a way I’m happy, but in another way it seems like the end of the world! It would have helped a lot if you’d been here when I first got the news. It sure threw me into a spin. I’m not sure I’ve pulled out of it yet, but I’m trying.

Let me give you a piece of advice. The sooner you can come home, the better. I’m all right, but at the moment I really use a HUSBAND around.

He walked to his flat and telephoned Pamela. “Oh, my dear,” she said, “I’m so glad you called. In another quarter of an hour I’d have been gone. I talked to Uxbridge. They’re being very broad-minded. If I come back tonight, all is forgiven. They’re short-handed and they expect heavy raids. I must, I really must, go back right away.”

“Of course you must. You’re lucky you’re not getting shot for desertion,” Pug said, as lightly as he could.

“I’m not the first offender at Uxbridge,” she laughed. “A WAAF has a certain emotional rope to use up, you know. But this time I’ve really done it.”

He said, “I’m ever so grateful to you.”

“
You’re
grateful?” she said. “Oh, God, don’t you know that you’ve pulled me through a very bad time? I shall get another special pass in a week, at most. Can we see each other then?”

“Pam, I’m leaving day after tomorrow. Going back to Berlin for about a month or six weeks, and then home. . . . Hello? Pamela?”

“I’m still here. You’re going day after tomorrow?”

“My orders were waiting at the embassy.”

After a long pause, in which he heard her breathing, she said, “You wouldn’t want me to desert for two more days and take what comes. Would you? I’ll do it.”

“It’s no way to win a war, Pam.”

“No, it isn’t, Captain. Well. This is an unexpected good-bye, then. But good-bye it is.”

“Our paths will cross again.”

“Oh, no doubt. But I firmly believe that Ted’s alive and is coming back. I may well be a wife next time we meet. And that will be far more proper and easy all around. All the same, today was one of the happiest of my life, and that’s unchangeable now.”

Victor Henry was finding it difficult to go on talking. The sad, kind tones of this young voice he loved were choking his throat; and there were no words available to his rusty tongue to tell Pamela what he felt. “I’ll never forget, Pamela,” he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I’ll never forget one minute of it.”