Chapter 21 Part VII Sections 88-92

Oil shortage!It's enough to make you cry. Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, German Commander in North Africa Said during the retreat from Alamein in November 1942 The Thirties got off to a bad start, but its end was even worse. In China: War.In the USSR: Dictatorship.In Germany: The seeds of disaster, though not yet ripe, are flourishing. Only a generation after the end of the First World War, another looms.Times are tough, and there is little optimism, and few are optimistic. ＊＊ Summer of 1939. The Thirties were not bad for oilmen.Not fantastic, but good enough.The oil flood in East Texas isn't really over, but the system has managed to adapt.Automakers continue to make cars.People still drive.They still need oil.

Profits are hard to make, but making them has always been difficult.The Thirties weren't great for oilmen, but they weren't bad. But there are still exceptions. Especially two exceptions. In the UK, Allen Soup has stumbled from disaster to crisis.Doom hovered over the company like a storm cloud.The Allen Soup Company still pumps oil from the ground.It still surveys, drills, collects, pumps, transports, ships and sells this precious fluid.But all in vain.The company has huge revenues and zero profits.In some years the old Havelock couple who owned a country grocer on Whitcomb High Street made more money than Allen Soup, the third largest oil company in Europe.

The second exception is the Norgaard Petroleum Company. The company was fortunate to have one of the best CEOs in the oil industry—Tom Calloway.When bad luck befalls one of the company's lines of business, he takes pains to steer the company in another direction.He dodges, twists, rolls and spins.To no avail.Doom pursued him like a swarm of bees.Profits are gone.The losses are mounting.In some years, the elderly couple who owned the hardware store on Kilgore Avenue made more money than Norgard, the third-largest oil company in the South. The rivalry between Allen and Tom became more and more intense and cruel.As children they competed in romps.As adults they compete in reality.While some things have changed, others have not.

Never show weakness. Never admit defeat. The old rules are still there.Unless the situation changes, they will only lose both sides. ＊＊ Among the many losses, there was one loss that particularly saddened Tom. On a crisp autumn day in 1936, a life in the family ended: a sad end.The little thing of seventeen, with the most loyal heart Tom had ever seen, curled up in the sun at Rebecca's feet, and died peacefully in his sleep.Tom was in the Gulf inspecting his oil fields when he heard the news, and he dropped everything and went straight home.He, Mickey, and Rebecca stood under a poplar tree, buried the little thing in the shadow, and put a piece of cooked bacon between her paws.Tom averted his eyes so no one could see him as he shoveled dirt over the little white body.

So the thirties passed.It started badly and ended even worse. Guy wiped his face with his hands.He looks tired.More than tired: he looked old. "Drink?" he asked. He didn't wait for Allen to answer.He poured whiskey as if he were pouring water, and added water as if this thing was worth twenty guineas a drop. "There's going to be a war soon," he said bluntly. "I think you should know." "It seems possible." Guy shook his head and handed his brother a glass. "Sure, that's for sure. You want to know if we're ready?" "I think you'd say no."

"Not at all. It's not even close. Our navy is great, but it's no match for subs. Our army is ridiculous, nice guys, but their equipment is a joke, terrible. Our air force is spectacular , but it needs ten times as many planes. You see, I'm only talking about defense now. I haven't said offense yet." "You seem desperate." Guy laughed.For the first time, Allen felt that his brother had lost his handsome appearance.Even in the midst of his middle age, Guy was charming.He has a charisma that draws attention away from his size.But not anymore.For the first time in his life, Guy looked older than he was, not younger.

"Desperate? Me? Not at all. I have no marriage, no money, not even a career. In terms of losses, I have far less than most people. And I want to say this for the UK: When we fight our backs, it is performance. Best time." Allen didn't speak, not only thinking about Guy's words, but also thinking about the way he spoke. "Money," he said, "you say you have no money. You mean—" "Meaning I don't have money? Yes, very true." Guy's chin lifts up a little: feebly showing his usual arrogance. "I spent all my money, if you must know. Wasted, I suppose you'd say. Dorothy had some money, that's why I married her, and you should know that." He shrugged as if he hadn't. What can surprise myself, "In short, most of her money has been spent."

"I told you once that if you want me to—" "Yes, yes, please. Whatever you can offer, I appreciate it. I'm afraid I'm not very good at living within my means." Allen nodded.Of course, Guy was still on an officer's salary, but it was unlikely that the officer's salary would cover Guy's expenses. "You tell my banker how much you need, and I promise you will get the money." He gave his brother a name and address, secretly hoping that the amount would not be too large.Alan has a high salary, but in the past, his salary pales in comparison to the millions of pounds in bonuses that Alan Towne's shares have brought him.Gone are those days.All of Allen Soup's financial resources were poured into the fight against Norgard, and drained of funds in the process.Allen's only consolation is that Norgard is in the same predicament.But he didn't mention it, just said, "Please don't think too much about it, and I don't think it's necessary to mention this to my parents, if you don't mind."

"thanks." Allen shrugged, "We're family, Guy." "Family, huh?" said Guy harshly.Allen noticed that he had finished his whiskey and was getting up to pour a second.Alan looked around Guy's living room and could see his brother's singleness and financial distress in the day-to-day shabbiness. "It's about the money," Guy said, "thank you." "Please, I don't want to—" Guy waved Alan rudely to shut up, "I'm not going to continue thanking you, you don't have to worry about it. In fact, I think I can do something in exchange."

"Oh?" "I think I'm going to tell you you're a fucking idiot." Allen stared at him dumbfounded, "What?!" "You're an idiot. Since no one else wants to tell you that, I figured I'd better do it." "Is there a specific kind?" "Yes... Tom is alive, you said." Allen stiffened. "Yes," he said curtly.He didn't know what was coming next, and although he was furious with Tom, he never liked hearing Guy talk about Tom. "Do you know how to find him?" Allen gestured that he didn't want to talk any more, but Guy took it as something Allen didn't know.

"Well, anyway, don't you think you should tell your parents? Tell them he's alive?" Allen licked his lips, "This is difficult, if not..." "If you don't tell them why he ran away? Don't tell them my argument with him? You can say whatever you want. I don't think it matters anymore." Allen's attention was now fully concentrated.He had never heard his brother speak like that.He's not sure he's used to Guy's candor, but it's definitely a change. "Why doesn't it matter?" he said. "For better or worse, Tom chose to leave us. There's no reason—" Guy cut him off again. "Oh, crap! Need I tell you something?" He nodded forcefully, as if encouraging himself, "You want to know why I hate Tom? By the way, I do. I really do." Allen nodded slowly, "Yes, yes, I really want to know." "Can't you guess it? Can't you guess it? I don't think you can guess it either." Guy's lips fell silent for a moment, and then the words came out of his mouth, "You and Tom...you two...you always ...I don't know...you're always so damn bright. I'm seven years older than you. I'm the eldest son, the heir. I'm supposed to be someone you both look up to. Instead...well, actually, I don't think I suck, but I'm not like you. I wish you weren't so damn perfect. So it's hard to get money from you. You're such a goddamn saint." Allen didn't know what expression to show.He's half sad, half trying to smile, "I'm sorry." Guy shrugged. "Now I don't care. Not so much anyway." He swung his glass. "Anyway, I'm half drunk. And the war is coming... well, you know, it's the time of my life One thing I'm really good at. I'm a good staff officer. One of the best. I'll be great at the War Department, too. I know that." "I'm sure of that." "Tell Mom and Dad. Tell them Tom's alive. Just say you don't know where he is. They should." Allen shook his head slowly and seriously.For more than six years he had been taking on Tom from Persia to Texas.He did it out of anger.Now the anger may be gone, but the habit remains, and nothing else can shake it. "No," he said, "they're old. They've settled down. I've settled down. You..." He paused, and Guy didn't look like a settled person, "Well, you There's your whiskey." "Yes, I have my whiskey." Allen stood up and prepared to leave. "Tell them," Guy said, "I won't say it again." Allen shook his head, "I won't say it, but thank you." This day is June 12, 1939. Texas summer.The nights are not hot, but comfortably warm.The year is 1939. The situation in Europe is getting tense.German newspapers were full of reports claiming that Poland had attacked German farmsteads.Of course, these reports are lies, and dangerous lies at that: lies that could start a war.But in Texas on such a balmy June night, Europe seemed millions of miles away. ＊＊ In order to enjoy the night breeze, Rebecca moved the table to the balcony outside the house, where the last ray of sunlight was passing over the flat lawn and the towering aspens in turn.Two round-backed armadillos huddled over something in the grass.Bud is telling a story. "They were hoisting up the pipe, and one of the drillers climbed up to eighty feet and stowed the pipe that came up. But he must've missed a ladder or something, because the next thing I heard There was a cry. The guy fell eighty feet and hit the beams of the derrick, rolled a few times, and landed on top of the pump shed, brand new tin roof, bouncy. He looked at me. I looked at him. He said, 'Is there a cigarette?' All I had was tobacco, so I said, 'No.' He looked at me sadly, and said, 'Don't just stand there, give me this stupid , busted ass son of a bitch to find a cigarette. 'I'm sorry, Rebecca. Absolutely true, I swear." Tom laughed because he believed it.Rebecca laughed because she didn't believe it.Bud laughed, embarrassed by the expletives in front of his boss's hard-to-understand European wife—though Bud knew all too well what she did for a living in those days in Wyoming. "Lyman," she said, interrupting their conversation about oil, "can you answer a few questions for me?" "Of course," he said, wiping his mouth. "Why does my husband own one of the best oil companies in the South and hasn't made a dime for the past six years?" "Oh, please, you have to ask your husband that question." "I asked, but he didn't tell me anything." Bud and Tom glanced at each other.After Tom's company started for a year or two, Rebecca was rarely involved in the specific business of the company.First, the bills were too large for her home work to handle.Second, her freshness had passed.It has now been taken over by professional accountants.Rebecca's energy had found other outlets. "You know, I run a foundation called the American Jewish Settlement Society," she continued, "and we've taken in seven thousand refugees from Germany so far. Schools, and jobs. It's a wonderful cause, and the Norgaard oil company is our biggest benefactor. Absolutely the biggest. The problem is, there are hundreds of thousands of Jews in Germany, Poland, Lithuania, and Hitler's threats There are millions of people in all the countries of the world. These jews need us and they might die without us. The more we get out, the more people we save. Tom is happy to provide money, it's just Norgard I don't have the money. That's why I asked." Rebecca carefully controlled her tone without adding any emotion. Bud glanced at Tom again, but Tom's face didn't tell him what to do.He is all on his own. "Things are tough, I think," he said. "That's what Tom said when I asked him. But that's not what Standard said when it announced the results to shareholders. That's not what Union Oil said. That's not what Texacoga said." "Yes, this is a local matter." "That's a good answer, except that whenever you say that—you and Tom—you never look me in the eye. That's what makes me wonder." A moth flapped its wings in the glass of the candle.Rebecca lifted the glass with her napkin and let the moths out.She was wearing a sleek black evening dress imported from Persia.Bud thought she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He looked at Tom challengingly, "Maybe you should ask Tom again and make him look you in the face." Both Bud and Rebecca looked at Tom.He drew the plate of meatballs and mash to him, wrapping his arms around it in the same defensive position as before.He felt he was under joint pressure. "Honey?" said Rebecca. "Oh... we have a little dispute with a rival company. A factory called Blackwater." "What would happen if you stopped arguing?" Tom was silent. "Lehman, what would happen if you stopped arguing?" Rebecca looked straight at Bud.He couldn't meet her eyes, but he couldn't lie to her either.Hell, anyway, he's on her side in this one.He glared down at his plate and said, "If we stop fighting, then we'll start making a little money, and that guy over there will start making a little money, and we'll all start making a little money." Rebecca smiled brightly.She put the napkin on the table. "Okay, so how about we stop this dispute?" Rebecca looked straight at Bud when she said this, but both men knew she was speaking directly to Tom. "It's not that simple," he said, "and it involves that guy over there." "Lyman?" Rebecca said. Lyman had a strong urge to spit, but couldn't because Rebecca was there.So he scratched the back of his head desperately, his face flushed.He said, "He's right. It's about that guy over there. But if we stop—damn, Rebecca, they've got to stop too. They're a public company, understand? Board of directors. Periodic liquidation .Management has to stop. If they don’t, they’re going to die — they’re going to go bankrupt.” Rebecca nodded. "I see. That sounds easy. Tommy?" Tom also knew that Lyman was right.Know that Rebecca is right.He can choose.He can continue to punish Alan Tang, or he can abandon his long-standing resentment.But he never conceded defeat as a child.Now he will never admit defeat.He sat motionless and silent. Bud was about to say something, trying to convince him, but Rebecca held up a finger. "Let him answer." Tom sat there, trying to find that old grudge: the conditions in the POW camp that had fueled his rage for more than twenty years.He tried to recall the cause of the recent hatred: the untold trauma his precious Nogard had endured in recent years. But he failed. Instead, a totally unexpected image jumped into his mind, a memory he hadn't recalled in years.He thought of a cold spring day at Hurtest POW camp.He thought of his belly, protruding from gas and empty stomach.He thought of a guard calling to him from across the cold courtyard.He remembered walking slowly, and a miraculous gift was placed in his startled hands: goose fat, jam, a packet of sugar.That moment was as clear as if it happened yesterday.The guard was a Jew.Silver-haired, elderly, Jewish. For about two minutes Tom tried to speak.If he spoke, he didn't even know what he would say.His throat was choked, and the truth was: just like at that time 22 years ago, he was almost in tears again. Finally, Rebecca broke the silence, "We're not saying you should do this at all. Maybe toned down a little bit. The silence continued, but Tom already knew what he was going to say.The past is the past.Anger and pity went head-to-head, and for the first time pity had the upper hand. "Of course," he said, "a little bit more. Why not?" This day is June 28, 1939. Allen blinked to wake himself up.Butler Jackson was pulling back the curtain.Lottie, who seemed most peaceful and serene when she was asleep, buried her head in the pillow and muttered something inaudibly. "Jackson?" Allen said in surprise. "gentlemen?" "Is Adley sick?" Adley is Alan's valet, and he usually wakes Alan up, not Jackson. "He's very well, sir. . . There's news today that I thought you might want to know. I think it's best to report it myself." "yes?" "I'm afraid it's not good news." Allen sat up.An ominous omen suddenly came to my mind, "Wait a minute." Allen jumped out of bed and put on the dressing gown that Jackson had already prepared. "Let's go next door." They walked into Alan's dressing room, where there was already a cup of steaming tea and two thinly sliced ​​pieces of black bread on the bedside table.Allen admired the butler's foresight.He sat down heavily on the bed. "It's Hitler, isn't it?" he said. "Yes, sir. In just a few hours this morning, German troops rolled into Poland. The news on the radio is still a little confused, but it looks like it's a full-blown invasion. I'm sure there's little resistance from the Poles leeway." "Not at all." "Shall I run water for your bath, sir?" "To hell with the shower, Jackson." "Okay, sir... if I may ask, do you think Chamberlain will have to declare war?" Jackson looked straight at Allen, and Allen looked at him calmly.At that moment, both knew that another war would bring about a permanent change in the status of master and servant.Well, if so, that's not a bad thing, Alan thought. He said with a small smile, "Declaration of war, Jackson? I hope so." Frowning slightly, Jackson picked up a hair from Allen's dressing table. "Yes, sir. I hope so too." ＊＊ Chamberlain hesitated for a day, then took action. On behalf of his country, he told Hitler to stop his provocative actions or face war.Hitler ignored the warning. At noon on September 3, Britain declared war on Germany for the second time in twenty-five years. The impact of this incident on Allen was staggering. During those two days—from hearing the news on the morning of 1 September until Britain declared war two days later—he barely slept.He would turn the radio on whenever there was news, and then turn it off as soon as the news bulletins were over.He buys various editions of various newspapers.If he ate, he ate standing up, pacing up and down, barely remembering to chew. why? He couldn't quite tell either.Of course, the whole country, the whole world, wondered if war was coming, but Allen was almost certain it would.So why?Why does he not eat or sleep?Why fidget?Why are you so addicted to the news? Of course, he has things to worry about.His son Tommy is almost 15 years old.If the war lasted three years or more, it was almost certain that the young man would be on the battlefield.Then there was the danger of bombing, the danger of Alan Towne, the great danger that Britain might lose.What will Britain do by then?What will happen to Ellen and his family by then? Of course, all of this troubled him deeply.But the real cause of his anxiety was something deeper, something older, something to do with his own horrible experience of war.He couldn't put into words exactly how he felt, but it was certain anyway. Allen's anxiety immediately dissipated when he heard Chamberlain's stern tone announcing that Britain had once again entered a state of war.In a state of utter calm, utter certainty, Alan did three things. The first thing was to walk into Alan Towne's office and order that no department of the company would take any action that might harm the strategic interests of any British ally or friendly country.What he meant: End the conflict with Norgaard.Prices will go up.Competition departments will be closed or dismantled.The conflict will end overnight forever and completely. The next thing he did was to visit his father-in-law, Egham Dunlop, chairman of the Allen Towne Oil Company for the past fifteen years.The meeting was brief but meaningful.Allen handed in his resignation. "Considering the international situation, Chairman, I must request that my resignation take effect immediately." Dunlop is not an amiable person, but this time, he held his son-in-law's hand, thanked him for all his contributions, and then let him go. go. The last thing he did that day was write a letter.The letter was three pages long, with four drafts.When Allen was finally satisfied, he called a clerk and instructed him to deliver the letter immediately.The address on the envelope is: 10 Downing Street, Westminster, London prime minister ＊＊ Allen is 46 years old. Twenty-five years ago, a European war devastated his life; took away his best friend who was and still is; killed or wounded too many of his comrades in arms.Another war looks like the worst nightmare in history, a comeback. But there is a difference. Unlike the First World War in Tom and Allen's youth, this one will be pitted against tanks and planes, jeeps and bombers, trucks and armored vehicles.It will be a war of speed, a war of maneuver. An oil war. Sparks open across the sky: red, yellow and dazzling titanium white.There was a crackle in the sky.Some explosions were so violent that the ground seemed to tremble. Tom looked with pale face and pale lips at the flames burning in the sky. ＊＊ Humans' ability to stabilize is really strange. Tom set foot in Texas for the first time in 1924.He was just 31 years old at the time, but his experience was enough to fill two 31 years.Since joining the British Army in 1914, he had never been in the same place for more than two years.He has had countless women.He had fought, been wounded, taken prisoner, and nearly starved to death.He never had a home.He's had more jobs than he can even count. But he settled down anyway.Coming to Texas is like coming home.Even before the oil was discovered at the Nellie Holling well, Tom knew Texas would always be his home.The feeling has grown every day since then.In addition to his Norgard estate on the outskirts of Houston, he bought himself a 10,000-acre ranch with mountain trails for him and Mitch to hunt on horseback.During this period, every time I left Texas was no less than a trip abroad.He and Lyman Bader privately divided their oil operations into "domestic" and "international," referring to Texas and everywhere else, respectively. But if Louisiana and Florida seem foreign, Washington, D.C. is a whole new continent. ＊＊ Another explosion. Another brilliant flame rose in the night sky: red and green this time, with pink stars in the center that hissed down toward the Potomac. "Isn't it wonderful?" said Rebecca, who floated beside him in a long silver dress. "I'm a big fan of fireworks." Her beautiful black hair was cut into stylish short curls, which didn't really suit her.There was a light on her face.The ball was hosted by the American Jewish Association to give thanks for what America has done for the Jewish people.At this point in October 1939, the importance of saving Jewish refugees could not be overlooked.There are many people to thank, but first and foremost is Rebecca - the undisputed prom queen. Tom's smile twisted. "I guess they're pretty. But I've had enough explosions in my life." "Oh, Tommy, I'm sorry. I should have thought of that." He shrugged. "No one wanted to blow me up this time." There was another bang, and one of Rebecca's cheeks was stained green and purple by the falling sparks.The oil war with Allen is over.Completely over.The price war is over.Prices at gas stations and refineries are back where they used to be, at least close to them.They stopped getting in each other's way, hurting each other in the tens of thousands of other ways they'd invented over the years. Rebecca looked at her husband gravely.He said little about the past, and she still knew nothing about his life before the war and his capture. "Do you want to go in? I don't need to watch the rest of the show." He shook his head. "I'm fine. It's almost over anyway." He pointed to two men in expensive suits and professional smiles walking towards them. You shake hands and take pictures." A smile spread across her face again.She didn't do all this to get compliments, but since they came unsolicited, she wasn't shy about accepting them.Tom leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Not bad for a little Jewish girl from Lithuania." She squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Tommy." She walked up to the two senators, who were indeed being attended to by a cameraman beside them.Tom watched his wife win two more hearts that night.Fireworks burst out their last rays.He sipped champagne. Then: "Mr. Calloway?" A voice from his left.Tom turned around.There stood a tall, silver-haired gentleman with gentle demeanor. "Yeah, that's right, I—" "Allow me to introduce myself. This is Secretary Cordell Hull." "Mr. Secretary," Tom shook his hand. "Allow me to congratulate you and Mrs. Your Majesty. You two are doing honorable business." Tom was rather displeased with Washington politics, so he looked around for a camera, but couldn't find it. "Thank you, it's all thanks to my wife. I just provide the checkbook." "Oh, and a checkbook is important, too." Hull's manner was very sincere, and Tom accepted his compliment with a smile.He is very proud.Thousands of Jewish lives were saved by Rebecca's drive and Tom's generosity.If they could, they would have continued their philanthropy until the end of the war in Europe.Whenever and wherever, as long as there is a threat from the Nazis, he and Rebecca will be committed to saving the Nazi prey from under the noses of the Nazis.Their achievements have been enormous.But that was nothing compared to their plans.Not bad for a servant's son from Hampshire. "I'm introducing myself partly to congratulate you," Hull said, "but mostly because I want to ask you a favor." "Oh?" Tom could not for the life of him think of anything that Hale needed from him.He remembered seeing an introduction about Hull.He grew up in a log cabin in the backwoods of Tennessee.He became a judge.He fought in the Spanish-American War.He became a representative, a senator, and now secretary of state.What would Hull need Tom to do? "You should know that we -- the government, the president, all of us -- are deeply concerned about Japan's expansion in the Pacific? The war against China, the buildup of armaments." "Er," Tom's answer was almost a snort.He has been through a war in his life.He never wanted to be involved in another fight. "Things are getting very tense," Hull continued. "We know that Japan wants to make itself economically independent of the United States because it fears that too much dependence might cripple itself during the war. Japan's fears are A lot, but its biggest concern is oil." "Why? Why the hell is there going to be a war? Who cares if they're independent or not?" "Everything the Japanese do to reduce their dependence makes war more likely. The closest source of oil to them is the Dutch East Indies. If they attack there, the United States will declare war, and they know that. The Pacific is Our western frontier. There must remain free. There will remain free." "You're saying that the Japanese want oil because they fear war, but they'll face war if they get oil?" "very true." Tom felt this irreconcilable logic tightening around him, just as it had twenty-five years ago. "Mr. Secretary, I don't know anything about it. I'm just a businessman." "You're in the oil—" "Yes, just oil." "And oil is war. There's no difference at this point. You can't escape the fact." Tom shook his head. "Maybe you're right, Mr. Secretary. If war breaks out, I'll play whatever the country asks me to do, but until then..." "The country needs you now, Mr. Calloway." Tom shook his head. "Can you listen to my request?" It was impossible to refuse Herwyn's polite request.Tom nodded, already half defeated. "We need a man, an oilman, an oilman with extraordinary insight and insight to assist us in our deliberations. It's not going to work for politicians and diplomats to deal with these things." "Ah!" Tom's exclamation was a negative exclamation.He didn't want to hear that.He wanted to go back to Texas, to the oil wells he loved so much, away from the politics of a world he cared little about. "Oil is the key to everything," Hull said. "We've banned the export of jet fuel above a certain octane level. They responded by buying five times more fuel below that level. To replace the Their navy keeps oil reserves, they have banned the use of oil by their fishing fleets. We also know that they are buying oil drilling equipment, and the only possible reason is that they intend to land in the Dutch East Indies soon. The biggest political disagreement in Washington right now is When will the total oil embargo be imposed on Japan. Tom shook his head, but Hale persisted. "Most of the big oil companies have trade in Japan and Asia, which can reduce their loyalty. Most companies have Japanese-born Americans who are in sensitive positions. They may face conflicts of interest .We came to you because you didn't. We believed in you, Calloway." "Hey, no, Hull. Thanks for the offer. That's a compliment, really, but no. All I can say is no." "Will you think again?" Tom wants to run away.He hated feeling surrounded, surrounded by logic and situations that he didn't want to have anything to do with.He raised his hand sharply, "I think so. If you really want to, but I..." "Would it do any good if I invited you to meet the President? He knows I'm coming to see you tonight. He's all for the idea." "My God, Hale, my God..." "Of course, you're going to need an office in Washington by then. We'll pay for all relocation costs." "Please... listen, excuse me, I have to go." He glanced at Rebecca and fled in despair. He fled from Hull.He fled the war.He's fleeing a crazy world he thought he'd escaped forever. The years passed; the terrible years of war. Tom failed, of course.不管他有多么想要避免牵连，他的责任感和他深埋于心的高尚品质还是胜出了，正如科德尔·赫尔一直都知道的那样。 所以汤姆接受了这一职务。从1939年到1941年，他在华盛顿度过了漫长的两年，在这期间他竭尽所能想将日本从边缘拉回。但一切都是徒劳无功。日本偷袭珍珠港这一事件更加巩固了汤姆在美国政府中的重要战略元素这一地位。 而且赫尔说的对。石油业就是战争业。从最开始，美国人就比日本人更清楚这一点。就拿偷袭珍珠港事件来说吧。日本飞机攻击了美国机场，他们攻击了战列舰和巡洋舰。但他们错过了真正关键的惟一目标。 oil. 四百五十万桶放在非装甲储油罐中的石油，不要说炮弹，甚至连子弹都能将它们尽数摧毁。没有石油，整个太平洋舰队都会变成一大堆垃圾。没有燃料，美国空军基地跟博物馆将会毫无区别。没有石油，美国将不得不穿过到处都有日本潜艇的海域向夏威夷补给燃料。而日本人没有摧毁这些石油，原因很简单：他们连想都没想过。 从那一天起，石油战争开始朝着有利于美国的方向发展。在占领了他们梦寐以求的石油产地荷属东印度群岛之后，日本人开始大肆钻井。他们很幸运，挖出了大量石油，以至于他们拥有了从加利福尼亚到中东之间最富饶的油田。但他们的发现毫无意义。 发现石油是一回事，把它运回日本又是另一回事。而他们做不到这点。在汤姆的强烈主张下，美国潜艇和飞机将全部注意力都集中到了向北开往本岛的油轮上。油轮被一艘一艘击沉。美国潜艇的攻击是如此有效，日本油轮其实很清楚自己在回到港口之前就会被击沉。 封锁石油的包围圈开始收紧。 日本人勇敢、足智多谋而且意志坚定。他们从没放弃过让油轮抵本岛的尝试。他们发明了一种用松树根提炼汽油的办法。他们竭尽所能——甚至超出所能。但都徒劳无功。他们的船只因为燃料短缺而被闲置，他们的飞机也陷入了瘫痪。 “用不了多久，”汤姆说，语气中只有稍许的玩笑成分，“他们的飞机就只能朝着一个方向飞行。” 在伦敦，艾伦也面临着自己的一连串工作。在他写给张伯伦的信中，他提出自己愿意成为“与石油相关的战争事务的协调者。我愿意在任何时间内在任何职位上为国效劳。”他的提议立即得到认可。他被任命为英国石油委员会的主席：这是英国石油业的最高指挥部。 从他上任的第一天起，艾伦就把一样东西看得比其它所有东西都重要：煤油——飞机燃料。艾伦之所以把它当作优先考虑事项，是因为他知道大多数石油商和大多数飞行员都知道、而其他人则不够重视的事情。 这件事是这样的。 1936年，壳牌石油公司发明了一种生产纯辛烷燃料的方法。这种新燃料极为昂贵，好像没有什么买主。很多人都会认为这一发现毫无价值，然后任其不了了之。但壳牌公司没有。他们深信这一产品会有未来市场，所以在美国建了一个工厂。他们这么做是对的。不多久之后，西方空军就意识到这种新燃料是一种优良的燃料。与低辛烷燃料相比，纯辛烷燃料可以提供多出百分之三十的速度、加速度和机动性。 这种燃料只在美国生产。 艾伦设法将这种燃料弄进英国。现金购买。油轮运送。驱逐舰护航。当不列颠之战在英国上空展开的时候，英国皇家空军用的是纯辛烷燃料，而纳粹德国空军则没有。 他们的优势非常微弱。 只有勇士的熟练技巧和奉献精神才能将它坚持到底。但是，不管出于什么原因，统计数字都是一致的：英国在战斗中每损失一架飞机，德国就要损失两次，有时候甚至是三架。虽然英国的空军力量很弱小，但它给身在柏林的战争策划者造成了远远无法容忍的损失。纳粹的注意力从英国转开了。入侵苏联成为了首要任务。 不列颠之战已经打赢。 但每个月都会出现新的危机。1941年，赐于英国生命的航运线路受到了德国潜艇的威胁。德国潜艇利用攻击小分队追踪目标，轻而易举地击沉巨大、沉重、行动迟缓的油轮。英国海军的石油储量降到了只剩两个月。发动机用油储量只够仅仅五个星期。这个国家正默默地、无形地走向崩溃。艾伦尽了全力。每个人都尽了全力。即便如此，这个任务看上去仍是不可能完成的。 看上去，而不是就是。 不管如何，无论如何，这个国家都幸存了下来。 ＊＊ 然后，1941年年底的时候，事情开始出现转机。这次轮到希特勒孤注一掷了。 他们对苏联发起的进攻是一场石油灾难。苏联的道路远比德国的道路糟糕，结果入侵坦克使用的燃料是预期值的两倍。虽然德军夺取了大量的苏联燃料，但他们的战利品并没有起到什么作用。苏联坦克使用的是柴油。德国坦克需要的是汽油。 然后冬天降临了。 天气寒冷刺骨。德国坦克在设计的时候从没考虑过这种天气。它们无法发动。它们全都像那些无法开火的重型大炮一样被冻住了。苏联人派出强劲部队进行反攻。自战争开始以来第一次，德国军队被阻止，被击退。 希特勒有两个选择，两个他都尝试了。 他派了一支军队前去攻击苏联在巴库的油田，去高加索山脉上拚死作战。这支军队从未到达目的地。希特勒的胜利总是依赖于惊人的速度和突然的袭击，但速度需要汽油，而德军的供给线被无限拉长。德军向前行进，但他们的步伐太过迟缓。向前线运送汽油的卡车自己的燃料都消耗殆尽。德国人将油罐放在骆驼背上，骑着它们前进。但这些石油数量太少，到得太晚。 在寻找苏联石油的过程中，德国人耗尽了燃料。 第二个选项就是北非。经过利比亚。经过埃及。经过巴基斯坦和外约旦，抵达伯克和伊朗的充裕石油。这只是理论，而且这个理论很合理。1941年2月，就在英军即将把意大利人驱出北非之际，一位名叫埃尔文·隆美尔的德国元帅被派去支援。他取得了辉煌的胜利。他一次又一次地成功将英军击退。到1942年8月的时候，他离开罗已经只有几英里之远。英国统治者烧毁机密文件，准备逃离。在蜿蜒的集市上，商人们已经准备将丘吉尔和乔治六世的画像换成希特勒和墨索里尼的画像。但战争趋势即将改变。 隆美尔迫切地需要燃料，但英军已经破译了德军的密码。虽然意大利派出油轮予以支援，但英军知道油轮什么时候过来。什么时候，什么地方。 英国皇家空军和皇家海军带着极度的精确性将他们一艘接一艘全都击沉。 隆美尔恳求石油的供给。他飞到德国直接向希特勒求情。他的军队必须得有燃料。希特勒倾听着。他对石油很狂热。他知道每一块油田的历史。他可以熟练地说出一架飞机需要多少燃料，一辆坦克需要多少燃料。He listens.他授予隆美尔一根陆军元帅指挥棒以及一系列承诺。指挥棒毫无用处。承诺毫无结果。没有燃料。 然后，蒙哥马利在阿拉曼发起进攻。隆美尔节节败退。他经常看到进攻敌军和发动全面反攻的机会，但进攻需要燃料，而隆美尔没有燃料。他开始撤退。甚至连撤退都需要他无法提供的汽油。 在寻找中东石油的过程中，德国人耗尽了燃料。 ＊＊ 战争是一头奇怪的野兽。在它一挥爪之间，它可以摧毁一个人，也可以成就一个人。它能找到一个人身上最大的弱点并加以扩大，但它也能找到一个人身上最大的优点，并将优点发挥到其它任何情况下都不可能达到的地步。第一次世界大战卷进了汤姆和艾伦，并几乎摧毁了他们。它摧毁了一段友谊，让汤姆在战俘营里几近疯狂，让艾伦陷入几近崩溃的状态。它找到了这种阴暗面，并毫不留情地出手。 这次的战争虽然很可怕，但从一开始就完全不同。 身在华盛顿的汤姆和身在伦敦的艾伦都清楚地知道对方的存在。因为汤姆对太平洋战争的全神贯注，因为艾伦对欧洲和英国前线的全力投入，这两个人从来没有碰过面。然而，两人都抽出空来关注着对方的动静，而且是热切地关注。 艾伦看出汤姆的工作干得非常出色。汤姆看出艾伦的工作干得极为卓越。在整个人类都陷入危机的时刻，历史呼吁所有优秀的人竭尽全力。艾伦和汤姆都不会让历史失望。 两人保持着距离。 他们远远没有宽恕对方，更没有与对方和解。但是有一些事情改变了。他们俩在中年时期开始敬佩他们共同在童年时期和青年时期培养出来的素养。他们都知道，如果战争结束，他们回到各自的公司，他们从前的石油大战永远不会再次爆发。他们会让自己生存，也让对方生存。只要他们能够相隔两地地活着，他们就会幸福地活着。只有当他们不得不见面时冲突才会爆发。 ＊＊ 战争不容他们反省。在东线，斯大林的军队终于开始摧毁德国进攻者。从莫斯科到柏林的大进军开始了。任何一名清醒的战争目击者都很清楚希特勒现在已经毫无胜算。 但这带来了一个紧迫的问题。在西方同盟国看来，现在是时候将战争带进欧洲了。如果欧洲从希特勒的手下解放出来，却被转手交给另一个独裁者约瑟夫·斯大林大叔，那这将是一场灾难。当然，地面入侵将是一场规模巨大的行动。它将需要优秀的将军。它将依靠勇敢的陆军、无畏的空军和热忱的海军。 And oil. 它将需要多得吓人的石油。