Chapter 27 Chapter Twenty Seven

With France on the verge of collapse, it finally became clear that the fate of humanity now depended on airplanes.There were only a few thousand aircraft on Earth at the time.The propeller military aircraft of 1940 was not very destructive compared with the aircraft manufactured by people later.But they can shoot each other down, and they can bomb the rear cities without hindrance.For many years after the First World War the mass bombing of cities from the air was regarded as the final and unimaginable horror of war.But by 1940 the Germans had not only thought of doing it, but had already done it twice: once during the Spanish Civil War and once in Poland.The Japanese also bombed Chinese cities from the air.Clearly this ultimate horror is perfectly conceivable, although the term "strategic bombing" which has given it the civilized name is not yet widely in vogue.So British leaders faced a painful choice: send their few precious aircraft to France to fight the Germans, or keep them at home to defend the cities and the coast.

France has fewer planes.France did not establish an air force before the war, but only built the Maginot Line.Their military thinkers believed that aircraft were scouts in war, stinging insects, functional, disrupting and killing the enemy, but not decisive.When the country of France fell to pieces like a vase shot by German dive bombers, France The Prime Minister suddenly made a frenzied public appeal to President Roosevelt for "a cloud-covering mass of planes" to assist.But the United States does not have a large number of planes to cover the sun and clouds.Perhaps the French Prime Minister did not know how insignificant the number of American air forces was; nor did he know that at that time, the range of fighter jets was not more than 200 miles, and the level of understanding of the situation among French politicians was very poor.

Meanwhile, British pilots learned important lessons in Belgium and France.They were able to shoot down German planes, and they shot down a lot of them, but many British planes also crashed.While the French campaign was ongoing, France implored the retreating allies to bring all their aircraft into battle.Britain did not do this.Dowding, their air chief, told Winston Churchill that twenty-five squadrons must remain in defense of Britain and could not be used, and Churchill heeded his advice.In this way, the collapse of France was doomed. At the time of the Great Crash, Winston Churchill gave old Smuts on June 9th

The general wrote a letter stating his views.The military senior once accused him of violating the first principle of war and not concentrating all his strength on key points.Churchill pointed out that since the fighter jets used by both sides in the air battle at that time were all short-range, the side closer to their own airport had a great advantage in the battle. ① Smuts (1870-1950), a South African soldier and politician, served as the commander of the South African Army during the First World War and served as the Prime Minister of South Africa after the war.Churchill called it "the old man of the Commonwealth".

"In this case, due to the large disparity in the number of the enemy and the enemy, those traditional principles should be changed," he wrote. "I think there is only one way now, and that is for Hitler to attack our country so that he can destroy his air weapons. If he attacks, then he will face this situation in the winter: Europe is struggling under his feet, and the United States is in the middle of the presidential election. It's likely to fight him when it's over." Winston Churchill is an idealized historical hero today, but then he was seen as everything: a high-pitched but erroneous man, a vacillating politician, a half-witted orator writers, reckless posers, prolific writers who have written prolifically but in an archaic style, and war-mongering alcoholics.He spent most of his life in British public service, giving the impression of a comical, competent and sometimes ridiculous character.Before 1940, he had never won the confidence of the people.He was then sixty-six years old, and the people dismissed him before the war was over.But during his time in power, he mastered Hitler's nature and found a way to defeat him, which is: hold on and force him to attack the whole world.This is Germany's morbid dream.Its thinking: rule or destroy, supremacy or defeat.Churchill understood his own people as well as the strategic situation, and he used his speeches to inspire the British people to accept his vision.In the decisive, wise, but not too chivalrous action of keeping twenty-five squadrons out of the doomed French campaign, he changed the course of the war so that after five long years it ended in Hitler's suicide and the fall of Nazi Germany ended.All these feats place Winston Churchill in the ranks of the rare messiahs who saved nations and perhaps even civilizations.

After the occupation of France and the Low Countries and the arrival of the Germans in the English Channel, Britain was now within range of the Luftwaffe's fighter jets.In 1940 the United States was not in danger of being attacked by air, but the continued German advance in Europe, combined with the growing Japanese threat, was a danger to America's future security.The question then arises of whether selling military aircraft to the British will enable them to continue shooting down German planes, killing German pilots and the destruction of German bomber factories, could those obsolete planes be sold to Britain so that they would be fully functional in defending the security of the United States?

① Refers to Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands. ② Refers to the failure of the British Conservative Party in the general election in July 1945, and Churchill stepped down as a result. The U.S. Navy, Army, Department of Defense, Congress, the press, and the public all answered this question with one voice: No!Franklin Roosevelt wanted to help the British, but he had to take into account the powerful voice of the Americans: No!Despite Churchill's powers as head of state in wartime, he did not send planes to France because Britain's survival depended on them.Roosevelt presided over a wealthy, sprawling, peaceful country that sympathized with the Allies but would not spare a plane to help them.In this case, Roosevelt may be impeached if he sells the plane to the United Kingdom.

Victor Henry was startled to see Franklin Roosevelt emerging from behind his desk in a wheelchair.The uncoated president was tall and strong on the upper body; but the blue-gray striped linen trousers on the lower body hung pitifully like pockets, and were loosely attached to his thin hip bones and weak legs.The crippled man was looking at a painting propped on a chair.Standing next to him was the Deputy Chief of Naval Air Operations, whom Victor Henry knew very well.He was one of the veteran naval pilots still alive, thin and small, with a haggard face, lips as thin as paper, a red face with scars, and two white eyebrows twisted together, looking fierce.

"Hello!" The president happily shook hands with Victor Henry.His hands were hot and wet.It was hot, and although the windows in the oval study were open, it was still stiflingly hot. "You must know Colonel Henry, General? His boy just got his pilot's epaulettes in Pensacola. How about this picture, Pug, do you like it?" In the delicate heavy gold frame, a British warship is pitching on the ocean, going at full speed, and the sky is covered by a storm, revealing a bleak moon. "It's a nice picture, Mr. President. Of course I'm a seascape fan." "So did I, but do you see that he drew the wrong rigging on the ship?" The President pointed out the error accurately, and he was quite proud of his expertise. "What do you think of it now, Pug? All this artist had to do was draw a ship in motion--that's all he had to do--and he got the rigging wrong! Just a little Opportunity, it's unbelievable that people can do all kinds of wrong things. It can't be hung here."

For a long time just now, the general kept frowning, as if this was a weapon aimed at Victor Henry.A few years earlier, the two of them had had a bitter dispute at the Bureau of Ordnance over the addition of protective armor to new aircraft carriers.Although Henry was lowly in office, because of his knowledge of metallurgy, his opinion prevailed in the end.The president had turned his wheelchair away from the painting by now and glanced at the silver clock shaped like a ship's wheel on his desk. "How about it, General? Let Pug Henry do that little thing? Can he do it?" "Suppose you assign Pug Henry to draw a square-rigged ship, Mr President," replied the General, nasally, giving Pug an unfriendly look. "You might not recognize what he's drawing, but he can't make a mistake with a rigging. I said it would be much more reasonable to pick a Navy pilot, Mr. President, but—" he did He made a gesture and turned his hand up, expressing that he had no choice but to agree.

The President said, "We've talked about all of this. Pug, I suppose you've got someone competent to take care of that stand in Berlin for you?" "Yes, Mr. President." Roosevelt glanced at the general and actually gave an order.The General took his white hat from the couch and said, "Henry, come to my office at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." "Yes, yes, sir." Only Victor Henry and the President of the United States were in the study.Roosevelt sighed, smoothed back his thin layer of unkempt gray hair, and turned the wheelchair to his desk.It was only now that Victor Henry noticed that the president was not using the wheelchair that ordinary patients sat on, but a special gear mechanism, a bit like a kitchen chair with wheels, and it was very convenient for Roosevelt to get on and off. "Oh, the sun has gone down, and it's still so hot here." Roosevelt's voice suddenly became tired, and he was reviewing the documents piled on his desk. "Is it time for something to drink? How about a martini? My martinis are usually okay." "It couldn't be better, Mr. President." The President pressed the bell, and a tall, gray-haired black man in a gray denim jacket entered and expertly collected the documents and portfolios from the various briefcases.At this time, Roosevelt took out crumpled documents from various pockets on his body, quickly marked a few words on some documents with a pencil, poked them on a spike, and threw others into the briefcase. "Let's go," he said to the servant. "You too, Pug." Passing through a long hall, taking the elevator, and passing through another long hall, the president was reviewing documents and quickly adding instructions along the way, while holding a cigarette holder and puffing smoke.Loves the job, that's evident, despite the deep purple eye sockets from exertion, and despite the sometimes bad coughing.They came to a small, modest sitting-room, with various pictures of sea scenes hanging on the walls. "That picture doesn't work here," the president said. "It should be sent to the basement." He handed all the documents to the servant, and the servant pushed a chrome-plated four-wheel wine cabinet next to the wheelchair and went out. "How was the wedding, Pug? Has your child married a beautiful bride?" the President asked chattyly and kindly, mixing gin and vermouth like a druggist. Although the tone is a little arrogant.Perhaps, Henry thought, it was because his cultivated tone sounded a bit condescending when in fact he was unconscious.Roosevelt wanted to know about Raguqiu's family.He smiled wryly when Victor Henry told him about his argument with the congressman. "That's the obstacle we've got here, and Ike Racouture is a smart guy, and some of the others are hard-nosed fools. We're going to be in real trouble if Ragucho gets into the Senate." A tall woman in blue and white came in, followed by a small black dog. "Just in time! Hello, puppy!" the President called out.The Scotch terrier immediately ran up to him, put its paws on the wheelchair, and Roosevelt scratched its head with his hand. "That's the famous Pug Henry, my dear." "Oh? Nice to meet you." Mrs. Roosevelt looked a little haggard, but she was very energetic. She was a very handsome and rather ugly middle-aged woman with delicate skin and thick black soft hair. She had a gentle and lovely smile, although The teeth protrude outwards (this is especially prominent in all comics).She shook his hand firmly, and looked at Pug with the quick, cool eye of an admiral. "The Secret Service gave my dog ​​a terrible name," Roosevelt said, handing his wife a martini. "They called him 'The Whistleblower.' They said he gave me away. Like there's only one little black Scotch terrier in the world. Don't you, Farah?" "What do you think of the present war situation, Colonel?" Mrs. Roosevelt asked him bluntly.She was sitting in an armchair with her glass in her lap. "It's a bad situation, ma'am, that's obvious," said Roosevelt. "You didn't expect it?" Pug pondered for a while and replied: "Mr. President, in Berlin, they are very sure that the campaign on the Western Front will be short. As early as January, they stipulated that the military supply contract signed with the government would expire on July 1st. They think by then the war will be over and demobilization can begin." Roosevelt's eyes widened. "Nobody ever told me that, and it's very interesting," said Mrs. Roosevelt. "But did they suffer from the war, too?" Victor Henry described the "Führer's Birthday Present" campaign of confiscating foreign tin, copper, and bronze from households; newsreels also filmed Goering throwing bronze busts of him and Hitler among the mountains of pots, pots, and pots , bottles, pans, ironware and laundry tub.It also announced that if the confiscators dared to take anything as their own, they would be punished with death; and put forward the slogan of "one household, one pan; donate 10,000 tons to the head of state".He also talked about snow-covered Berlin, and the lack of fuel, food rations, the rule that a good potato must be accompanied by a frozen one.It is illegal to hail a taxi in Berlin, except for foreigners and sick people.Food imports from Russia were slow, if any, so the Nazis used Russian-printed paper to wrap butter shipments from Czechoslovakia to create the illusion of Russian support.The so-called "wartime beer" was the only drink, which was actually hops and alcohol, and it was not drinkable at all, but Berliners drank it. "They also have a 'wartime soap,'" Pug said. "You take a crowded German train and you can't smell the smell of used soap at all." Roosevelt couldn't help laughing. "The Germans are more mature, aren't they? 'War soap'! I love that word." Pug told some of the jokes that were going around in Berlin.As part of an intensified war effort, the Führer announced that pregnancy would be limited to only three months.Hitler and Goering once passed through conquered Poland and stopped for a while in a small church on the side of the road.Pointing to the crucified Jesus, Hitler asked Göring if he thought their ultimate fate would be the same. "My Fuhrer, we are very safe," Goering said. "By the time we're done, Germany won't have any wood or iron." Roosevelt giggled at the jokes.He said there were jokes circulating about himself that were far more sarcastic.He was very interested and continued to ask some questions about Hitler's facial expressions and postures when he was received at Kailin Villa. Mrs. Roosevelt interjected in a sharp, serious voice: "Colonel, do you think Mr. Hitler is crazy?" "Madame, he tells the history of Central Europe with a level of clarity I have never heard before. He tells it on the spur of the moment, as if in random ramblings. You may think his ideas are utterly absurd." Ridiculous, but he's got it right, and it sounds like a watch, tick-tock-tick." "Or like a ticking time bomb," the president said. Pug smiled and nodded at the president's bright, sharp joke. "This martini is very good. Mr. President. It's not like wine, but like a cool cloud." Roosevelt was very happy to hear that, and raised his eyebrows triumphantly. "You pictured the martini perfectly! Thank you." "You made him happy all night," said Mrs. Roosevelt. Roosevelt said: "My dear, even the Republicans admit that as a president, I am a very good bartender." This joke was not very funny, but since it came from the mouth of the president, Pug Henry laughed when he heard it.The booze, the comfort of the room, the presence of his wife and dog, and the president's innocent delight at his own little talent made Pug feel very at ease.The little black dog gave the most family-warm feeling; it sat there worshiping the paraplegic president, its eyes widened, and it stuck out its red tongue to lick its nose from time to time, or turned its eyes to look at him curiously. Pug. Roosevelt sipped his martini and remained as relaxed in his wheelchair as ever, but his dignified tone grew imperceptibly serious when he spoke of work.He said: "If France collapses, Pug, do you think the British can hold on?" "I don't know much about the British, Mr. President." "Would you like to spend some time there as a naval observer? Perhaps a month or so after your return to Berlin?" Pug hoped that Franklin Roosevelt was as happy as he seemed, so he decided to ask. "Mr. President, may I not go back to Berlin?" Roosevelt looked at the captain uneasily for five or ten seconds, coughing badly.His face became serious, taking on the calm, weary look shown in the portraits of him hanging in post offices and naval logistics depots. "You're going back, Pug." "Yes, yes, sir." "I know you like the sea life, and I will let you go to sea as a commander in the future." "Okay, Mr. President." "I should like to know your impression of London." "If you wish me to go to London, sir, I will." "How about another martini?" "Thank you, sir, I will not drink." "There's this big problem of helping the British right now, you understand, Pug?" The President rattled the cold wine dispenser and poured out his drink. "If we give them destroyers and planes, which may be used by the Germans against us in the future, it is better not to give them." Mrs. Roosevelt said in a silvery voice, "Franklin, you know you will help the British." The President smiled and stroked the Scotch Terrier's head with his hand.There was that self-satisfied, inscrutable look on his face that he had used when he suggested the purchase of the Allied ocean liner--brows raised, eyes squinting at Pug, mouth turned away. "Colonel Henry here doesn't know it yet, you'll be in charge of removing those old, useless, redundant Navy dive bombers. We desperately need a housecleaning in there! There's no point in filling our training station with so many redundant aircraft Pointless. Isn't it, Colonel? Too untidy and a sight." "Is it so sure? Very well," said Mrs. Susford. "It's fixed. Naturally, the pilots don't want 'black shoes' to do this." Roosevelt used this slang on purpose, feeling very happy. "So naturally, I'd pick someone like that. The pilots were tangling up and holding on to the plane. Pug was going to break their hands. Of course if the word gets out, I'm doomed. That's it. That solves the problem of running for a third term, doesn't it? What do you think of this problem, Pug? Do you also think that the owner of the White House will break George Washington's rules and try for a third term? It seems Everyone knows the answer to that question, but I don't." Victor Henry said: "Sir, all I know is that America needs a strong Commander in Chief for the next four years." Roosevelt's volatile red face was serious and tired again, and he began to cough and glanced at his wife.He pressed the bell. "Need someone the people don't get bored of. Pug, a politician loses popularity after a while, just as an actor who's been on the show for too long. The favor wears off and he loses his audience." A man in a suit A navy captain in blue uniform with gold epaulettes appeared at the door, and Roosevelt held out his hand to Victor Henry. "Nothing came of that with Sumner Wells, Pug, but we have a clear conscience, we've tried, and you've helped a lot." "Yes, yes, Mr. President." "Obviously Hitler impressed you very much, but Wells wasn't quite as impressed." "Sir, he's been with great people a lot more than I have." There was a peculiar gleam in the President's tired eyes, not entirely pleasant, but it quickly faded. "Goodbye, Pug." There were several thunderclaps, and heavy rain fell from the dark sky.Victor Henry couldn't leave the White House, waiting for the rain to stop in a crowded, open doorway that read "The Press Room."A damp cool breeze brought the smell of flowers and plants on a rainy day.Suddenly a hand patted his shoulder heavily. "Hey, Henry, you've got another stripe on your epaulettes!" Alister Tudsbury, in crisp green tweed, leaning on a cane, his bearded face, especially his nose Around and cheeks, more purple than before.He looked at Pug with a broad smile through his thick spectacles. "It's you, Tudsbury!" "Why aren't you in Berlin anymore, old friend? How's your handsome lady?" Just as he was speaking, a black British car pulled up to the exit in the heavy rain and honked its horn. "That's Pamela. Where are you going now? Wouldn't it be nice to come with us? The British embassy is holding a small reception, just It's cocktails and stuff, and you get to meet some people you should know. " "I was not invited." "I just invited you, what's the matter, you don't like Pam? She's sitting in the car over there, come on, let's go together." Tudsbury pushed Henry with his elbow and walked over in the rain. "Of course I like Pamela," Henry struggled to say as the father opened the car door and pushed Henry into the car. "Pam, look who I caught outside the press room!" "Yo, that's great." She put a hand over the steering wheel and squeezed Pug's hand, smiling as affectionately as if it hadn't been a week since they parted in Berlin.On her left hand was a tiny sparkling diamond ring—on which she had never worn anything before. "Tell me about your family," she said, raising her voice to the snap, snap, and patter of rain wipers as she drove off the White House grounds. "How's your wife? What happened to your kid stuck in Poland? Is he safe?" "My wife is fine. Byron is fine too. Did I tell you the name of the girl he roamed about Poland with?" "It seems that I haven't talked about it." "Her name is Natalie Jastrow." "Natalie! Natalie Jastrow? Really?" "She said she knew you." Pamela glanced at Henry suspiciously. "Oh, yes. Looks like she was going to see someone from your embassy in Warsaw. Leslie Slote." "Exactly. She was going to see Sloeter. Now she and my son are going to get married. At least that's what they say." "Oh, God bless. Natalie's a very nice girl," said Pamela, looking straight ahead. "What do you mean by that?" "I mean she's unusual. Smart, good-looking," said Pamela after a pause. "Have a strong will." "You mean she's tough," said Pug, remembering how Tudsbury had used that word for Pamela. "She's really sweet. And ten times more organized than I am." "Leslie Slote was also at the reception," Tudsbury said. "I know," Pamela said. "Phil Rule told me." The conversation was suddenly interrupted and there was a moment of calm.The car stopped at the next intersection at a red light, and Pamela shyly stretched out two fingers to touch the epaulets on Henry's white military uniform. "How do I address you now, Commodore?" "Colonel, Colonel," Tudsbury murmured from the back seat. "Everyone understands the four American levers. Be polite when you speak. This man is becoming the 'Colonel House'① of this war." ①Edward Mandal House (1858-1938), an American diplomat, was President Wilson's special envoy during the First World War. "Oh, you're right," said Pug, "that I'm going to be a civil servant in the embassy going through papers. That's the lowest form of animal life. Or more accurately, the lowest form of plant life." form of life." Pamela deftly drove through the congested traffic of Connecticut and Massachusetts avenues.By the time they reached the embassy, ​​the rain had stopped.The evening sun peeked out from under the dark clouds, shining on banks of pink heather in bloom, as well as a line of wet cars and a steady stream of guests coming up the steps.Pamela's car arrived so fast and braked so suddenly that several Washington cops stared at it, but said nothing. "Good, good, the sun came out after the storm," Tudsbury said. "That's a good sign for poor old England, isn't it? Any news, Henry? Did you hear anything special at the White House? Is it true that the Germans are going all out to attack the coastline?" Teletype The news is that the Germans have crushed the French Ninth Army, and I am sure they will cut the Allied line in two. I told you in Berlin that France is not prepared to resist." "I hear they're planning a counteroffensive around Soissons," Pug said. Tudsbury made a grimace of doubt.They went inside, and there was a long line of guests waiting to shake hands with their hosts below, and they were also in the back as they went up a magnificent staircase.Tudsbury said: "I'm surprised that Germany's invasion of Belgium and Holland didn't elicit any reaction. The world just yawned. It shows how far humanity has regressed in twenty-five years. Do you think Come to think of it, in the last war the occupation of Belgium was considered a world-shattering atrocity. Now the Germans are considered from the very beginning to be shameless anyway, to be very barbaric anyway. You know, this turned out to be very advantageous to them. On the contrary, our side is not at all able to act as freely as they do." At the top of the wide, red-carpeted staircase, the evening's guest of honor (a thin, rosy-faced man in his mid-fifties in a well-tailored double-breasted black coat with large lapels) and the ambassador Standing together under huge portraits of kings and queens shaking hands with guests, he was nervous and kept stroking his curly blond hair from time to time. "Hello, Pam? Hello, Talky," he said. "Lord Burner-Walker, Colonel Victor Henry," said Tudsbury.Pamela walked on and disappeared into the crowd. Duncan Burner-Walker held out his soft-looking but hard hand to Pug while smoothing his hair with the other. "Burner-Walker came here to see if you had any old planes that you had thrown out there for scrap and he could pick some up," Tudsbury said. "Yes, the highest price," said the ruddy man.He smiled slightly at the American, and quickly turned to shake hands with others. Tudsbury limped with Pug through the two smoky drawing-rooms, introducing him to his many guests.In the second room couples danced in one corner to the faint music of three musicians.The women at the reception were very well dressed, some very pretty; men and women alike, seemed happy.Victor Henry thought of the war news and felt that the scene was very incongruous.He told Tudsbury his idea. "But, Henry, you know, moping around all day won't kill a German. But making friends with Americans might help a little. Where's Pam? Let's sit down, I've been standing for hours .” They saw Pamela sitting at a large round table drinking with Leslie and Natalie Jastrow.Natalie was still in the black dress in which, as far as Pug knew, she had come to Washington with no luggage but a blue leather bag.She smiled at him haggardly and said, "It's a small world." Pamela said to her father, "Papa, this is Natalie Jastrow, the girl who roamed Poland with Colonel Henry's son." Slote stood up, shook Tudsbury's hand, and said, "Talkey, maybe you can answer the question we're arguing about. How likely do you think Italy is to go to war now?" "Not yet. Mussolini won't go to war until France has almost stopped breathing. What do you ask?" Natalie said: "I have an old uncle in Siena, and someone has to fetch him. There is no one else in the family, and I am the only one to do it." "I told you Ellen Jastrow was perfectly capable of getting out of there on his own," Sloter said. "Ellen Jastrow?" said Tudsbury inquiringly. "A Jew's Jesus? Is he your uncle? What's the matter?" "Will you dance with me?" Pamela said to Pug, rising quickly. "Of course." He knew she didn't like dancing very much, so he was a little puzzled, but he held her hand and danced through the crowd towards the musicians. When he put his arm around her waist, she said, "Thank you, Phil Rule was walking towards this table just now, and I hate him." "Who's Phil Rule?" "Oh - he was the one in my life for a long time. It was too long. I met him in Paris. He was sharing a room with Leslie Slote. He was also at Oxford I stayed, when Leslie was a Rhodes student. Phil is a journalist now, and a very good reporter, but a badass. They are very similar, a perfect pair of swingers." "Really? I thought Sloter was a brainy, composed kind of guy." Pamela's thin lips pursed into a smile. "Don't you know they can do anything? These guys, their souls are packed like a pressure cooker." They danced in silence for a while.Her dance steps are still as clumsy as ever."I'm engaged," she said happily. "I noticed the ring on your finger." "It's a good thing I didn't wait for your Navy pilot son, right?" "You didn't make any suggestion to me, or I could have facilitated it." Pamela laughed. "If that were the case, it would be a very different place now. Natalie is really going to marry your other son, isn't she? Well, the two Henrys who are to be married are already married. It's not too late for me to act." "What does your fellow do, Pamela?" "How can I put it. Tad is hard to describe. His name is Tad Garrard, and he comes from a good family in Northamptonshire. He's good-looking, gentle as a lamb, and kind of crazy. He was an actor, But it didn't take long before he joined the Royal Air Force. He's only twenty-nine, too old for a pilot, and he's fighting in France with the Tornado squadron." After another silence, Pug said, "I suppose you don't like dancing, especially with Americans." "I don't really like dancing, but it's very easy to dance with you, and you're not so demanding. Young people do a kind of 'bump dance' now, it's crazy. Once they caught me dancing, and almost broke my teeth. It's loose." "My dance moves are standard 1914." “可能我的也是，或者说也应该是。哎呀，糟了。”她说，这时音乐速度变了，有些青年男女开始一上一下地跳起来，“这回就是'颠舞'了。 他们离开舞池，走到休息室在一张紫色软绒长沙发上坐下，沙发上面挂着一幅颜色鲜艳但画得不好的玛丽王后画像。帕米拉要了一支烟，抽了几口，一只胳臂放在膝上。她穿的古铜色花边的衣服剪裁得很低，露出一小片光滑而白皙的胸脯。在“不来梅号”大邮船上时，她头发梳向后面结成一个厚厚的发髻，现在则波浪似的披在肩上，褐色而有光泽。 “我非常想回国参加空军妇女辅助队。”他没有作声。她把头转过来。“你的意见怎样？” “我？我赞成。” “真的？这可是十足的不忠，是不是？韬基在这里为英国担任着极为重要的工作。” “他可以另外找个秘书。你那位幸运的皇家空军人员在那里哪。”她听到“幸运的”这三个字时脸就红了。“不那么简单。韬基的眼睛看久了感到酸痛，他喜欢口授和别人念给他听。他办公时也很特别，还在澡盆里工作等等。” “那只好让他稍微改一下这些怪毛病了。” “可是把他扔在这里不管，这样做好吗？” “他是你的父亲，不是你的儿子。” 帕米拉的眼睛闪闪放光，看了他一眼。“可是，我要真的这样做，塔茨伯利就要有一两个星期变成李尔王。'一个负心的孩子，比毒蛇的牙齿还要更使人痛入骨髓！'——虽然如此，可是我想爸爸会觉得自己扮演这个角色也还是挺有意思的，也许咱们现在该回到他那里去了，亨利上校。” 他们站起来向那间大客厅走去时，他说：“为什么不叫我帕格？认识我的人都这么称呼我。” “知道。我听到过你妻子这样称呼你。这个名字是什么意思？” “是这样。在海军学校时，凡是姓亨利的一般都被称作帕特里克，就象姓罗兹的都被你作杜斯特一样。但是在高班里已经有一个帕特里克•亨利了。我当时是一年级的拳击手，因此我就得到了'帕格'这个标签。” “你会打拳？”她的眼睛打量着他的肩膀和胳膊。“现在还打吗？”他咧嘴笑了。“太累人。现在有空的时候我就打打网球。” “噢？我网球也还可以。” “那太好了。如果我去伦敦，也许我们可以打一局。” “你是要——”她犹疑了一下。“你有可能来伦敦吗？” “并不是不可能。看见他们了，在尽那边，”帕格说。“天啊，屋子里这么乱糟糟。” “娜塔丽似乎心情不好，”帕米拉说。帕格说：“她刚死了父亲。” “噢？我还不知道这事。她越长越漂亮了，这可是真的，肯定要嫁给你儿子了，是吗？” “看来是这样。在这个问题上也许你可以给我出点主意。我觉得对他来讲，她年岁太大了，人也太机灵，除了他们两人疯狂地相爱着这一点之外，差不多没有任何其它合适之处。这一点当然是个条件，但不能单凭这一条。” “也可能不会成功。说不定以后还会发生很多问题，”帕米拉说。 “你还从来没见过拜伦。如果你看见他，你马上就会明白我的意思，他确实还是个娃娃。” 她很调皮地看了他一眼，轻轻拍了他胳膊一下。“你在这个问题上讲话真象个做父亲的。” 塔茨伯利和斯鲁特正在激烈地争论着，娜塔丽在一边忧郁地看看这个，又看看那个。 “我根本就没说他欠着英国什么。这不是争论的中心。”塔茨伯利说，把空杯用力往桌上一放。“作为美国人民的领袖，他有责任向人民敲起警钟，叫他们开足马力，如果想要他们避免一场灾祸的话。” “他不是在芝加哥作了那篇关于隔离的演讲吗？”斯鲁特说。“那是两年多以前的事了，有人指责他是战争贩子，他现在仍然在努力用行动来洗刷他自己。一个领袖不能一个劲儿往前跑，一拐弯就不见了。人民对第一次世界大战的恶感还未消除，而现在，由于法国和英国的愚蠢政策，又发生了一场世界大战。现在不是唱《到那边去》①的时候了，韬基，再唱那个已经不管用了。” ①第一次世界大战期间美国赴欧作战的士兵所唱的军歌。 “在罗斯福等待时机的时候，”塔茨伯利说，“希特勒已经占领了半个世界。帕米拉，好孩子，给我再拿杯酒来，我的腿痛得厉害。” “好的，”帕米拉很听话地走向酒柜。 塔茨伯利转过来向亨利说：“你了解纳粹。你说，罗斯福经得起这么等下去吗？” “他除了等待之外还有什么其他办法？几个月以前，在向你们出售枪炮的问题上，他遭到国会的反对。” “几个月以前，”塔茨伯利说，“希特勒还没有占领比利时、荷兰和法国，还没有出现和你们隔水相望的局面。” “这水面可是宽得很，”帕格说。 斯鲁特象个教授那样，用一只手的一个指头慢慢敲打另一只手上的两个指头。“韬基，我们回顾一下一些基本问题。旧的政权根本不能适应工业的时代，它们就像死的文字和脱下来的皮一样，是僵死的东西。欧洲开始动起来，先是用多次的大屠杀——这是欧洲解决问题惯用的办法，第一次世界大战就是这么回事——然后采用左的或右的暴虐行为来取代这些古老政权。法国简直已经僵化和腐烂了。英国一方面用小恩小惠的办法安抚工人，另一方面仍然象过去一样，轻松愉快地过着他们那种贵族老爷式的寻欢作乐的生活。与此同时，罗斯福倒是把世界的造反精神融化到立法中去了。他使得美国成为唯一具有生命力的现代自由国家。这是非常了不起的成就——用一场和平革命把马克思的学说掏空了。到目前为止，还没有人能够完全理解这一点，要到二○○○年他们才会著书论述这个问题。正因如此，美国是自由人类的后备力量。罗斯福深知这一点，所以他行动缓慢持重。它是最后的可以动用的后备力量，是最后的也是最好的希望。”塔茨伯利拚命皱蹙着他那粗眉大眼的脸，表示不同意。 “等等，等等，等一等。首先，'新政'中没有任何一项出自这个伟大的革命头脑，新的思想是在政府更换时随着新人流入华盛顿的，而且都是派生的思想，大部分是从我们这些腐朽的、过着寻欢作乐生活的人那里搬来的。在社会立法方面，我们远远走在你们前头——啊，谢谢你，帕姆——还有，行动的缓慢持重可能是一种较好的政治方针，但是在战争时期，这种做法就会带来灾难。如果我们一个时期只有一个国家跟德国作战，那么我们也就会一个个地分别倒下去。这对于英语国家来讲，是非常愚蠢的下场。” “我们买了戏票，你和我们一起去吃饭吧。”斯鲁特说着，站了起来，并把一只手伸给娜塔丽，她也站了起来。“我们到爱斯加戈餐厅去。” “谢谢你，我们一会儿和勃纳—沃克勋爵一起吃饭。并且希望把帕格•亨利也骗了去。” 斯鲁特请娜塔丽吃了一顿华盛顿最丰盛的晚餐，还喝了香槟酒，又带她到国家大剧院看了一场喜歌剧。然后把她带回到他住的公寓，怀着侥幸的心理。他抱着一般男人所习惯的想法，认为只要一切顺利，他可以在一个晚上就把她重新夺回来。她曾经一度象奴隶般地崇拜他；这样一种感情怎么可能消失呢？最初他只把她看作自己的又一个虏获物。他一直为自己计划着一桩审慎的婚姻，花天酒地玩够之后，在三十多岁时娶一位富裕的或出身名门望族的姑娘做妻子。现在娜塔丽•杰斯特罗引起他的狂热，早把一切审慎的打算抛到了九霄云外。莱斯里•斯鲁特在他一生中从来没有需要任何东西象需要娜塔丽•杰斯特罗那样迫切。她现在这种忧郁的神情和瘦弱的样子，特别具有诱惑力。他非常乐意和她结婚，或是做任何事，只要能把她夺回来。他打开房门，扭亮电灯。“上帝，差一刻一点了，戏真长，喝点儿什么吗？” “我也不知道。我明天还要去纽约的几家法院到处查找埃伦的证件呢，我最好早点睡觉。” “让我再看看他的信，娜塔丽。你去配两杯酒。” "Ok." 斯鲁特把鞋、上衣和领带都脱掉，躺到一个有扶手的椅子上，戴上黑边眼镜，然后仔细看起信来。他从墙上拿下一本又一本书——厚厚的绿皮政府法令索编——一面喝酒，一面看。在沉默中，只听见两只酒杯里的冰块碰撞的声音。 “过来，”他说。 灯光下，娜塔丽坐在他的椅子扶手上。斯鲁特拿着一本书，指给她看国务院关于在国外居住五年以上的归化公民的规定。这类归化公民丧失了美国国籍，但是书内列举了七种例外，其中有些似乎符合埃伦•杰斯特罗的情况，如居住国外是由于健康的原因；再如本人年龄超过六十岁，已经退休，在国外居住期间和美国保持联系。 “埃伦有两个问题比较麻烦，”斯鲁特说。“首先关于他父亲的归化问题，有一点是含糊不清的。要是埃伦当时已经成年，哪怕过了一星期或者一天，那么从法律上讲，他就不算是美国人，而且从来就不算是美国人。即便他那时候是美国人，他也还有这个在国外居住五年以上的问题。你知道，有一次我曾经向他讲过这个问题。我当时劝他应该回美国住上几个月。因为自从纳粹在德国掌权后，许多护照都在这个问题上发生麻烦，这类事我见的实在太多了。”斯鲁特拿着酒杯走进他的小厨房，又配了点酒，随后又继续说：“埃伦简直是个糊涂虫。但是这样的人远不止他一个，美国人对自己国籍的不关心和糊涂，简直到了令人难以相信的地步。在华沙，每个星期都有十几起这种麻烦事情发生。现在，最好的办法是让国务卿向罗马领事馆打个招呼。招呼打到了，埃伦的问题就解决了。”他穿着袜子走到睡椅那里，递给她一杯酒，坐在她旁边。“但是打算通过正常途径解决任何技术性的问题，不论问题多么小，我连想都不敢想。欧洲来的这类案件堆积如山，可能埃伦还得等上一年半。因此我认为你到布朗克斯区各法院去查找有关他的侨民登记和他父亲归化的记录没有什么实际意义。现在还不需要这样做。埃伦究竟还是个有名的学者，我希望国务卿看到这些漫不经心的教授们所干的蠢事时会觉得好笑，摇摇头，然后给罗马写一封信。明天早上我首先去办这件事。他是个正派人，这个应该可以办到。”娜塔丽瞪着眼看他。他说：“怎么了？” “噢，没什么。”这个姑娘一下子喝下半杯酒。“结识一个与重要人物相识的人的确有好处，对不对？可是，我如果要在华盛顿呆到周末，我就得找个旅馆住，莱斯里，今晚住这里，以后可不行，就连今晚我都觉得挺别扭。也许还有几家旅馆可以再问问。” “去问吧。我已经打了一个小时的电话啦，五月份在华盛顿住旅馆根本不可能。这里正在开四个大会。” “如果拜伦知道，那可糟了。” “难道他不相信我睡在长椅上？” “如果他知道了，他只好这么相信。莱斯里，你想想办法，让我获得去意大利的许可，好吗？” 他的嘴闭得紧紧的，摇摇头。“我跟你说过，国务院正在劝美国人离开意大利呢。” “可是我要不去，埃伦就回不了国。” “为什么？脚踝骨折又不是残废不能走路。” “他就是不肯鼓起劲头来离开那里。你知道他那脾气。他总是过一天算一天，磨磨蹭蹭，心存侥幸。” 斯鲁特耸耸肩说：“我看你想到那里去并不是为了帮助埃伦，其实不是这样。只不过是为了躲开这里而已，娜塔丽。你要躲开这里是因为你感到对你那个潜水艇男朋友很不理解，也因为你失去父亲感到伤心。实际上，你现在不知道自己下一步到底该怎么办才好。” “你倒好象挺聪明！”娜塔丽砰的一下把还有一半酒的杯子放在桌上。“明天一早我就离开这里，斯鲁特，哪怕到女青年会去住，我也得走。但是我会先给你准备好早点。你的鸡蛋仍然要煎成两面黄吗？” “我的习惯没有多大改变，亲爱的。” “晚安，”她使劲把卧室的门关上。 半小时后，斯鲁特穿着睡衣，外面罩了一件浴衣，轻轻敲她的门。 “有事吗？”娜塔丽的声音倒还和善。 “开开门。” 她那涂着油膏泛红的脸微微带着一点笑容，穿着她当天下午买的一件睡衣，外面罩着一件斯鲁特的宽松下垂的蓝色长袍。“怎么，又想起什么事了？” “喝杯睡前酒好吗？”她犹豫了一会儿。“也好，我一点都不困。” 莱斯里•斯鲁特愉快地哼着歌曲走进厨房，不一会儿就拿来两杯很浓的威士忌苏打。娜塔丽坐在睡椅上，两臂交叉着，她的脸在灯光照耀下显得很鲜艳。 “谢谢，坐下，莱斯里。别踱来踱去的。你刚才挖苦拜伦的话是很卑鄙的。” “难道我说的不是事实吗，娜塔丽？” “好吧，咱们就来谈谈事实。纳粹已经向外扩张，作为一个外交官，现在娶个犹太老婆是不是比一年前更不需要考虑了？” 斯鲁特的愉快神色突然消失了。“我从来也没想到过这一点。” “你不需要想到这点。现在你听着，亲爱的，你可以给我喝强烈的威士忌酒，可以在留声机上放《这不叫爱情》的唱片，或者干其它类似的事，可是你真正的意思是不是想要我邀请你进卧室？老实说，干这种事是很不体面的，我没有这种心情。我已经爱上别人了。” 他叹了一口气，摇了摇头。“你讲话毫无顾忌，娜塔丽，你一向如此，一个姑娘这样，实在不高雅。” “我第一次表示愿意嫁给你的时候，你也这样说过，亲爱的。”娜塔丽站了起来，呷着她的威士忌酒。“我的天，这酒可真厉害。你简直是只狼。”她在查找书。“有什么书可看？啊，格莱罕姆•华雷斯，我就要看他的书，半小时以后我就会睡着了。” 他站在那里，把手放在她的双肩上。“我爱你。我将永远爱你，我要用一切办法把你夺回来。” “那很好。莱斯里，我必须去意大利把埃伦接出来。真的不骗你！我觉得很对不起我的父亲。就在他死的那天，他还在为埃伦担心。也许这是一种很好笑的赎罪方式，可是我一定得把埃伦安全地接回来。” “只要办得到，我一定给你办。” “这么说就对头了。谢谢。晚安。”她轻轻吻了他一下，走进卧室，把门关上。虽然他又看了很长时间的书，又喝了点酒，但是没有再去敲门。