Chapter 35 Chapter Thirty-Five

When Pug returned, the September air in Berlin was crisp and the leaves were turning yellow.Compared with London under the Blitz, the city looked very peaceful, with far fewer people in military uniform and few trucks and tanks.After defeating France, Hitler had demobilized some of his fighters to work as free laborers on farms and factories.The remaining soldiers were not hanging around Berlin either.Some of them were on the coast waiting to invade Britain, some were stationed in France and Poland, and some were guarding a thin and cautious line of defense facing the Soviet Union.Only aerial warfare was visible: the blue-gray muzzles of anti-aircraft guns poking out of the autumn leaves; fair-haired German children in the square stared blankly at a downed British long-range Wellington bomber.Pug felt a pang of grief at the sight of the crashed British bomber—an exact replica of the Ferlandy—with its red, white, and blue portholes.He wanted to see the damaged gasworks, but couldn't find it.Stern-faced Luftwaffe guards and wooden fences cordoned off the devastated scene.Göring declared long ago that as soon as a British bomb fell on Berlin the German people could call him Meir.Of course, no one is allowed to see the live evidence exposing Meier's shortcomings.

But even if it wasn't off limits, Pug wondered how many Germans would look there.They are eccentric people.In Lisbon, as soon as he boarded the Lufthansa plane, the local Germany at that time gave him a deep impression: the interior of the plane was spotless, the waiters were respectful, the food and drink arrived as soon as they were ordered, and the loudspeakers were deafening.The passenger sitting next to him was a fat doctor with blond hair and glasses. During the meal, he clinked glasses and toasted with him, and talked enthusiastically about America and his sister who lived in Milwaukee.The doctor was convinced that America and Germany would be friends forever, that Hitler and Roosevelt were equally great men, and that both of them needed peace.He deeply regretted the brutal massacre of the citizens of Berlin by British bombers, which he said contrasted with the Luftwaffe's strict focus on military targets.

①Common Jewish surname. He also pointed out that the RAF painted the undersides of their planes with an effective black paint so that they were not easily spotted at night, and that they were constantly changing altitudes as they flew, making it difficult for anti-aircraft guns to aim.That's why they can sneak in.But these little ghost tricks could not save their lives.German science will find a solution in a week or two.The war was effectively over and Germany's victory was sealed.The Luftwaffe was invincible.The criminals who bombed women and children in Britain will soon be brought to justice.

He looked like a German burlesque in a London music hall, down to his squinting smile and the rings of fat on his neck.Pug hated him more and more.He said dryly that he had just arrived from London and that the Luftwaffe had been defeated over Britain.The other party immediately became indifferent, turned his back to Pug, and deliberately waved an Italian newspaper, which contained several very striking photos of London on fire. As soon as Pug got back to his house in Greenwood, the curator of the art museum next door—Dr. A glass, while talking of Britain's imminent downfall.The Bazels have always been friendly neighbors, and they have invited the Henrys to many interesting exhibitions and parties.Mrs. Bazel had become Rhoda's closest German friend.Pug politely told his neighbors that the war was not exactly going on as Goebbels' newspapers and radios depicted it.No sooner had he hinted that the RAF was still fighting than the little art specialist got angry and limped out, forgetting about his offer to buy Pug a drink.And this man has repeatedly suggested that the Nazis were nasty villains and that Hitler was a disaster.

This is the situation that now makes Berlin utterly unbearable.All Germans clenched into one tight fist.That little rascal achieved his "one empire, one nation, one leader," as he has often clamored for a long time.Victor Henry is a disciplined person. He understands and appreciates the work efficiency of these people who are rigidly obedient to discipline, but he hates their blind obedience that closes their eyes to the facts.It's not just stupid, it's not just shameless; it's bad art of war. "Estimates of the situation"—a naval expression borrowed from Prussian military doctrine—must be based on facts.

Not long after he came back, Oster Grocker called to ask him out for dinner, which he readily accepted.Grock was one of the few German soldiers he knew who seemed to retain a sliver of common sense amidst the madness of the Nazis.In a restaurant full of uniformed Nazi officials and high-ranking officers, the submarine officer complained openly and vaguely about the war, and especially about Göring's clumsy conduct of the British campaign.From time to time he squinted his eyes and looked around, as he did in Germany automatically whenever war or politics were discussed. "We're still going to win," he said. "They're going to do all the stupid things they can before they figure this out."

"Think of what?" said Pug. "Blockade, of course. It's an old British weapon, and now it's used to kill people. The British can't blockade us. We have the whole coast of Europe, from the Balkans to Turkey. Even Napoleon never had it." Long coastline. But Britain lacks food and fuel, which would have been its fatal injury. Had Goering blown up ports and sunk ships this summer—plus the massive damage done by our submarines and magnetic mines—Britain would have passed Switzerland and Sweden approached us." He held up his hands calmly. "There's no other way! We're sinking their ships across the wide open Atlantic. They don't have escorts. Even if they did, our new tactics and torpedoes can still beat them. Remember, we started with submarines. We were weak at the time, Victor. But in the end Dönitz persuaded Raeder, and Raeder persuaded the Fuhrer. After the occupation of Poland, we began to build new boats in large numbers from the beginning of Britain's rejection of the peace proposal. Next January, the new The boats can be launched one after the other. A new type of ship, very beautiful. So - in four or five months, sinking half a million tons a month, huh! - Churchill is finished. Don't you agree?" Gro K grinned at him.The little submarine officer wore a well-cut purple tweed suit and a striking yellow bow tie.His healthy, sun-tanned face glowed with confidence. "Come on, you don't need to show sympathy. We all know your president's mood, huh? But you understand the sea, and you understand the situation." Pug gave Grok a wry look.He did agree with that estimate. "Well, assuming that Göring does turn to blockade, and assuming you do have a new fleet of ships built—those are two big assumptions."

"You doubt my words?" "If you exaggerate a little, I won't blame you." "You're right, Victor," Grok laughed. "Damn it. But I don't need to exaggerate. You see, it's since January." "At that time, it depends on whether we intervene." The submarine officer stopped laughing. "Yes, that's a problem. But now, your president can only secretly give some old planes and ships to Britain, and that's it. He still dare not face Congress. You think your people will approve of sending American warships to Germany Did the submarine sink? Roosevelt was a great man, but he was afraid of your people."

"Hey! Erst Grocker and Victor Henry! These two sea dogs are deciding the outcome of the battle." It was Wolf Stöller, the banker, stooping to talk to them, his thin yellow hair over-greased and combed flat, his cigarette holder in his mouth, smiling. "Victor, your new suit is beautiful. Was it made by Savile Rowe?" "Yes, not bad at all." "That's right. Well, it'd be a pleasure to have clothes made there again. There's no better tailor than the English. Say, how long have you two been here? Come sit down at our table." The tablemates are just a few good friends."

"No, thank you, Mr. Stoller," said Pug. "I have to go back to the office right away." "Of course. Hey, Oster, did you tell Colonel Henry you were going to Abendreau this weekend? You know, Victor is a regular guest of Abendrew. My God! Why don't you this time How about going together, Victor? You've said no twice recently, and of course I'm not happy. You and your friend Oster can talk to each other about your life at sea all weekend! Just say yes. Just two or three more Good friends. And some lovely ladies, some single." Victor Henry shot Grok a quick glance, who smiled unnaturally and said, "Well, that's a good idea, isn't it?"

"Okay," said the American.He understood now exactly what was going on, and why Grok had called him. "Thank you very much." "Excellent. Wonderful. See you on Friday," said the banker, patting Victor Henry on the shoulder.After that, the conversations between the two naval officers were less and less boring.Erst Grocker was too busy eating to look at Pug much. That afternoon, Victor Henry was surprised when he heard from his paperwork that Natalie Jastrow had called from Siena. "My God! Get on the phone." "Hello? Hello? What's the matter? I want Colonel Henry in Berlin." The girl's voice was murmured and indistinct. "It's me, Natalie." "Ah, hello! How is Byron?" "he's good." "Oh, it's reassuring!" The interference on the phone line stopped.Natalie's voice became clear. "I haven't received a letter from him since I left. I sent an undersea telegram and got no reply. I know how bad the postal service is now, but I'm still worried." "He never heard from you, Natalie. He wrote me about it. I'm sure he didn't get your telegram. But he's fine." "How strange I've been writing him a letter a week. What a shame! I miss him so much. How's he doing at submarine school?" Outside Victor Henry's window, the guards at the embassy gates were changing, rhythmic standing to attention salutes and snaps of German greetings.Natalie's voice on the phone made him feel sad.Her New York accent was different from Pamela's, but it was the same deep, young girl's voice. "Badly, I suppose." Her laugh was also very similar to Pamela's, a bit sassy and sarcastic. "You are right." "Natalie, he has been waiting for you to go back a long time ago." "There are some problems, I know, but they'll work out. Please do tell him I'm fine. Siena was very charming in wartime, and very calm. It's kind of back to the Middle Ages. Byron has three more years to go." months, isn't it?" "He's graduating in December, if they don't kick him out." Another laugh. "They won't fire him. Blaney is actually very reliable, you know. I'll be back in December. Please tell him and maybe your letter will get through." "I will. I'll write it today." It was a little party in Abendreu, no more sliding down the stairs.Pug saw, with some regret, that Eust Grock was not interested in this well-thought-out brut, though it suited the Teutonic taste.The submarine officer was obviously a little uneasy, and he could have used this stuff to change the situation.The other guests were a general of the Luftwaffe and a senior official of the Foreign Office, both far above Grock.None of the five beautiful ladies were married.Mrs. Stoler was not present. Victor Henry reckoned that they were planning a carnival for him to talk about the situation in England.After dinner, somewhat to his surprise, they entered a paneled room where instruments were prepared and Stöller, the Luftwaffe general, Foreign Office officials and a red-haired lady played a quartet.Pug had been here a few times before, and the banker had never shown his musical talents, but this time Stöller played the first violin very well.The Luftwaffe General was a tall, gray man with sunken eyes and a sickly look. He bowed first, then leaned over the cello and swayed his body, playing beautiful music.Pug had seen this man from afar once before, at Catherine's Cottage, in full military uniform, looking far more imposing than he was now in frock coat and spectacles.The musicians made a mistake, stopped two or three times, said a few jokes briskly, and continued playing.The Foreign Office official who played second violin was a stocky Bavarian with a drooping yellow beard and an excellent violinist.It was the best amateur music Pug had ever heard.Grock sat there with the absorbed attitude most Germans appreciate when they appreciate art, and drank a lot of brandy to drive away the drowsiness.After two or three hours in this way, the ladies said good night and left.Pug didn't notice it, if there was any code. "Perhaps we should go out for an evening drink," the banker said to Pug, putting his violin carefully into the case. "It's warm to-night. Do you like the sound of my Stradivari? I hope I've lived up to it." Looking out from the spacious large stone balcony is a formal garden, a graceful fountain and river; beyond that is the forest.A hazy orange-yellow last quarter moon rose over the treetops.Shadows danced on the house and flagstones in the red and yellow lights of the long iron poles.After the five people were seated, the butler brought drinks.Listening to the sweet bird singing in the still night, Pug couldn't help thinking of the nightingale he heard on the British bomber base. ① Stradivari (1644-1737), a famous Italian violin maker. "Victor, if you would like to talk about England," Stöller said, reclining comfortably in the easy chair, his face in black shadow. "Of course we're interested." Pug said in a barely pleasant tone, "You mean, I have to admit I've been to England?" The banker immediately replied in a more pleasant tone: "Ha, ha. Unless you want to cause a lot of trouble for our intelligence personnel, you'd better admit it." After everyone laughed, he said: "Of course as long as you If you like, we can drop the subject right away and have a good weekend. Our hospitality never—how do you say it in English?—" Everyone was speaking German, so he changed it to English and said—" 'Any strings attached'. But you're in the rare position of traveling between the two capitals." "Well, if you want me to say that you've knocked the RAF out of the sky and that the British are going to be screwed next week, then you might as well drop that subject now." The tall general said in a melancholy bass: "We know we haven't knocked the RAF out of the sky." "Just talk about it. General Jacques is my oldest friend," Stöller said. "We were classmates in elementary school. And Dr. Moose—" He waved his arm at the Foreign Office official, and the shadow of a skeleton-like arm danced on the wall— "Almost as old acquaintance." "We have a saying in the Air Force," the general said. "The red flag was raised. It means we are all talking straight. We say what we think about the Führer, about Goering, about everything and anyone. We have no qualms about speaking, I tell you." "Well, I like the principles," Victor Henry said. "Say it." "Will the invasion succeed?" Dr. Moose raised his voice. "What invasion? Can your navy send you there?" "Why not?" General Yaguo said in the calm tone of an insider. "Through a corridor, both sides are sealed with mine belts, the outside is blocked by submarines, and the upper side is covered by the Luftwaffe. Is this too high a requirement for the battle fleet?" Parker glanced at Groc, who sat unhappily swirling brandy in a bell glass. "You have a submariner here. Ask him how to block and set mine belts." Groc waved impatiently, splashing the brandy in his glass, and said in a thick voice, "Very difficult, possibly suicidal, and worst of all, completely unnecessary." General Jago bent over Grok, his monocle gleaming in the flickering light, his face scowling."The red flag has been raised," cried Pug. "That's right," Yaguo said, and cast an unforgiving look at the submarine officer, who was lazily sitting in the dark. "I agree with him," Pug said. "A part of the landing force might be able to get through--in whatever form. There is also a beachhead where the invasion force landed--I have seen that place close by. Personally, I would not like to approach this area from the sea. field." "Clearing beachhead obstacles is a technical task," Yaguo said, quickly returning to a casual chattering tone. "We have specially trained engineers to deal with it." "General, our Marine Corps has been working on and practicing beachhead attacks for years. It's the toughest offensive project in the books. I'm sure the German Armed Forces only thought of it a few weeks ago." "The military talent of the Germans cannot be ignored," Dr. Moose said. "It's indisputable," Victor Henry said. Yaguo said: "Naturally we can't land without losses. Our losses will be huge, but we can still bear it. Once we get a strong stronghold, you will see Churchill fall. In order to occupy the beachhead, the Luftwaffe Will fight to the last plane. But I believe that the RAF plane will be the first one left." Victor • Henry did not comment. "What effect did the bombing of London have on British morale?" Stöller asked. "You've made it easier for Churchill to do his job. They're working harder now. You can't win this war by blowing up London. My verdict is that you can't. Not to mention that not only can bombers go west, but they can Fly east." The general and the banker looked at each other.The general's voice was dark. "Would you be surprised if someone here agreed with you?" "Churchill very cleverly irritated the Führer by bombing Berlin on the twenty-sixth," Stöller said. "To keep morale up, we have to fight back. The ruse worked, but the British will now have to pay the price. There is no political choice but massive retaliation." "To tell you the truth," said Dr. Gyce. "Marshal Goering wants to bomb London, blow it up." Yaguo shook his head. "He knew it was too early. We all know it too. It was six days of bad weather that saved the RAF. We needed another week to blow up these airfields. But in the end it was the same." "They're a brave people. I don't want to see them prolong their suffering," Stöller said. "They don't seem to care," Victor Henry said. "Generally speaking, they're having a good day. They think they're going to win." "That's the weakness," said Dr. Moose, stroking his beard. "Ethnic megalomaniac. When a nation is divorced from reality, it's all over." Stoller lights a stout cigar. "Exactly. The course of this war is now determined by statistics. This is my jurisdiction. Would you like to hear?" "You are very welcome. I especially hope that you can disclose some secrets," said Victor Henry, which caused cordial laughter from all the Germans except Grok.The submarine officer was in mourning, probably asleep. "It's not classified," Stoler said. "Financial information may be new to you. But take my word for it, my figures are accurate." "I totally believe it." "Well. England is at the end of—how should I put it—a running chain of buckets made up of ships. This is the position it has always been in. Now, the buckets are always being knocked off rather than fitted to the chain. at a much faster rate. It had about two hundred thousand tons of ships when it went to war. Its own ships, plus those cobbled together from elsewhere. This tonnage is rapidly decreasing. The rate of decline is— How much is it lately?" He asked Grok in a bossy manner. The submarine officer yawned furtively. "These numbers are confidential. Victor has heard a lot in London, so he knows it already." Pug said, "That's right." "Very well. Then you know the curve is going up. Nothing else matters in this war. Britain will run out of fuel and food in no time, and then it will be over. Once its machinery fails to turn, Once its planes can't fly, its people can't eat, Churchill is down. There's no other way out." "There's no other way out? My country still has plenty of fuel and food—and steel and shipyards—and we're open to foreign trade." The banker grinned grimly. "Yes, but according to your "Neutrality Act", you have to pay cash for everything you buy in Britain. Pay in cash and take care of your own transportation. This is the only sensible thing your people have learned from the last war after Britain refused to pay the war debt Stuff. Roosevelt, Wilkie, it doesn't matter now. Victor, you can take my word for it, there's no way your Congress will give Britain another war loan. Will they ?” "Won't." "Yes. Then it's finished. It started the war with about half a billion in foreign exchange. Our intelligence says it has spent more than four hundred million. The planes, supplies, and ships it needs to keep fighting will take the last Billions or so are running out as quickly as a furnace melts snowballs. By December the British Empire will be without a penny. Bankruptcy! You see, my dear fellows, they're in a game they can't fight and can't do. A war that pays. The simple fact is that. It was the Führer's political genius, Victor - whatever you may think of him, who could see this through the fog of the future. Just as he used to see France fighting It's the same as not going down. Such leadership brings victory." Stöller leaned forward and waved his hand contemptuously. "Yes, Churchill was very persuasive, very touching, very inspiring. But he was the worst chancellor of the exchequer in Britain, and had no idea of ​​what was going on logistically or financially. And he never did. The soap bubbles of his fine rhetoric were immediately disillusionment. And then there will be peace." Dr. Moose interrupted, "We're sinking ships only as fast as we did in the record months of 1917. You know that?" "I know that," said Colonel Henry. "As I said to Oster a while back, that's when we got involved as well." The silence on the balcony lasted for a long time, and then Wolf Stöller said: "World tragedies like this should not be repeated now, Victor - Germany and the United States, the two biggest anti-Soviet powers, should not be fighting each other. Go to war. Then the only victor will be Stalin." Grok made a rustling sound from the back of the chair. "That's not going to happen. The war will be over soon. Wait until January, when we have new submarines." The weekend was cold, gloomy and rainy, and for Pug, too dull with too much music and culture.The five ladies, all over thirty, all awkwardly coquettish, are available to chat, walk, dance, or play tennis with you when the rain stops.They could still spend the night with you, Pug reckons.He was ashamed to ask them individually. Erster Grocker was always sleeping and left early on Sunday morning.The other three people have been very indifferent to the submarine officer, but very warm and polite to Victor Henry.Clearly, Groc had accomplished his task.Apparently, his phone calls and meetings with Stöller at the hotel were prearranged.The feigned courtesies of these great men to a four-striped American officer are well-done. They asked Pug many more questions about his trip to England, and he answered them all.Only the lean Luftwaffe officer asked a tentative question about the radar station—Pug answered with a deadpan silliness—and no one tried to get any classified information from him. Rather, they seemed to be trying to indoctrinate him with German politics, philosophy, and poetry.These three old comrades were very fond of academic conversations, and they kept getting Henry the books mentioned in their conversations from Stoller's library.He wanted to read these books before going to bed, but he fell asleep after reading them for fifteen minutes, like this every night.German queer literature often had this effect on Victor Henry.He had long ago given up trying to understand the seriousness of the German pretensions, their place in world history, and every turn of their sombre history from the time of Charlemagne.From a military point of view, all that has been spent on the fate of Germany, on German culture, on the German spirit, on Germanism, on Pan-Germanism, etc., is constantly emphasizing one fact.This is an industrialized nation of 80 million people who have spent a century uniting, educating themselves, rolling up their sleeves to conquer the world, trusting that God will seize the German jersey and spur it on.This is worth bearing in mind. ① Charlemagne (around 742-814), Frankish king and emperor. The sun came out through the clouds as they drank cocktails on the balcony on Sunday afternoon.Stöller suggested taking Victor Henry to see his award-winning pigs, who had made the long walk from the river to the pen.In the midst of a stench, the master told Henry the family history of the ridiculously large long-haired pigs lying in the dunghill and squawking with hunger.As they walked back, the banker said, "You're bored, aren't you, Victor?" "Not at all," Pug lied. "I knew it was an unusual weekend. Both Moose and Jago were extraordinary people. We had been good friends for a long time. Jago was the first to really connect me with Goering. Before that, I was very close to von Papen, and he, you know, was the biggest opponent of the Nazis until 1933, when he saw the general trend with his own eyes. In fact, he made Hitler Chancellor." Stöller used his A heavy black cane tapped the flowering purple thistle casually, knocking off the flower heads.The broken flowers exude a fresh fragrance. "Ya Guo thinks highly of you." "For a flying soldier," Pug said, "he's a pretty good cello player." "Yes, he's very talented. But he's not in good health. What he appreciates most about you, Victor, is your willingness to talk about England. You're so kind." "I didn't reveal anything. At least not on purpose." Stoller laughed. "You are a true servant of your government. Besides, your observations are instructive. What impressed us most was your sense of honor. Honor is everything to a German." The compliment made Pug Henry uneasy.He answered with his usual silence and fixed eyes. "If General Yaguo can do anything for you, I know he will be very happy." "That's great, but I'm fine." "Perhaps there is a facility you'd like to visit?" "Well, our Air Attaché would gladly accept such an invitation." "As you like. Yaguo cares more about your personal interests." "One thing, not ordinary. There was an RAF pilot, a friend of mine, who was shot down in the English Channel a few weeks ago. Your guys probably got him." Stöller waved Tap the knobby stick and say, "It's not difficult to find him. Tell Yaguo the driver's name, rank, etc., and you'll get an answer soon." "I can't thank you enough." "If your friend is a prisoner of war, you can still meet him." "That's great." In early October, Victor Henry had almost forgotten about that weird weekend when Wolf Stöller suddenly called him. "The man you mentioned is still alive." "Who?" Stoller spoke out Garrard's name, rank and designation in one breath. "He's in France, still in hospital, but in good health. General Jacques has invited you, as his personal guest, to visit the Luftwaffe headquarters nearby. You are invited as a friend, not as an American military attache." Yes. This call will be the only communication. No reciprocity necessary." After a pause, Pug said, "Oh, that's really good news. The general is very kind." "I told you you were well appreciated by him." "I have to call you back." "of course." Pug told the d'affaires this, and the d'affaires drooped and nearly closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and running his thumbs through his beard. "What does that Luftwaffe officer want from you?" "Naturally." "Okay, I approve you. Why not take it lightly? You might learn something, and you can see the pilot. Who is he?" "Well - he is engaged to the daughter of a friend of mine." The charge d'affaires opened his eyes a little, and stroked his beard again.Pug felt the need to add one more point. "The truth is, Alister Tudsbury's daughter." "Ah, he's Pam's fiancé, isn't he? Lucky young man. Well, anyway, go and see how Pam Tudsbury's fiancé is doing," said the chargé d'affaires with a tinge of sarcasm. Victor Henry felt the tone, and was a little annoyed. The weather is bad.Pug took the train to Leer.In Germany-ruled Europe, it's amazing how normal rail travel has returned to normal.The train was leaving the station on time, rumbling through the peaceful autumn landscape in the rain.Germany, Belgium, and northern France all looked alike in the October mist, a vast plain of farmsteads, evergreens, and yellow woods.The cities look alike, too, with an assortment of magnificent old buildings in the center surrounded by modern buildings, some unspoiled by war and others just rubble.In the crowded dining cars, Germans, Dutch, French, Belgians—a few with their wives—talked cordially, eating and drinking together amidst the rich aromas and cheerful laughter.Luftwaffe officers in military uniform sat alone at a table, looked at the citizens contemptuously, and casually yelled at the waiters who hurried past.Everything was the same under the new order, except that there were no Jews to be seen.Jews have always been the most frequent passengers in Europe, but on this train they could not see a single one.On this express train from Berlin to Lier, the Third Reich seemed to last at least a few thousand years due to its racial excellence and high ability to handle affairs.The train in the other direction was loaded with cheerful young soldiers, and Victor Henry got his first reliable hint that the invasion - if it had been planned - might have stopped. General Jacques sent a serious and thin lieutenant to the station to meet the American naval officer, with a gold belt on his shoulders more than others, a large string of ribbons on his chest, and the muscles in the corners of his eyes were twitching.He drove Pug to a squalid stone building with a wet statue front in central Lear, and invited him into a small, deserted, windowless office with an ink-stained desk and two chairs .On the dusty yellow wall were clean squares and rectangles where pictures of French officials had been hung, now taken down.Behind the desk hangs a brand new red, white and black tricolor A flag.There was another generic photograph of Hitler, sullen, in a military greatcoat, with a lock of hair draped over one eye, crudely retouched to look younger than himself.On the wall was a clock whose pendulum was ticking louder than Pug had ever heard it; the face of the clock had been green, faded with age. The door opened.A German soldier wearing a helmet and carrying a machine gun walked in with heavy steps, turned around at the table, and stood at attention with a snap.Garrard followed him, his right arm in a sling, his face swollen, bloodless, and wrapped in gauze.Behind him was the lieutenant with twitching eyes.The pilot was wearing a flight suit, and the torn part of the suit was randomly mended with a few stitches. "Hi, Ted," said Victor Henry. "Oh!" said Garrard in astonishment, and the gauze bandaged over his lower lip and chin muffled his voice. 中尉用迅速而准确的德语对亨利上校说，由于英国飞行员奉命尽可能找机会逃走，雅果将军对不能解除武装卫兵的监视觉得很抱歉。见面的时间是没有限制的。士兵也不会来干预。他不懂英语。他奉命如果发现逃跑的行动，就开枪射击，因而中尉请求先生们不要有任何足以引起他误解的动作。至于交谈的内容，将军完全信赖亨利上校。如果没有问题，他现在就要走开了。 “我们谈完以后，我怎么让您知道呢？”帕格用大拇指朝那个发呆的士兵一指。“比如我站起来朝门口走去，那就可能引起他的误解。” “很对，”中尉低下头，眼角抽动了一下。“那时就请您拿起电话机稍等一会儿，再放回到架上。我就马上回来。请允许我告诉您一声，将军请您在前进指挥所跟他一起吃午饭，指挥所离这儿有四十公里的汽车路。”门关上后，帕格拿出香烟，给飞行员点了一根。 “呵！老天爷保佑你。”伽拉德吸一口烟，好象一个人从水底钻出来吸一口空气一样。“帕姆知道吗？有人看见我跳伞吗？” “你的一个同伴说他看到了。她确信你还活着。” “好啊，现在你可以告诉她啦。” “我当然非常乐意。” 挂钟的滴答声很响。伽拉德用左手笨拙地弹了弹烟灰，看了卫兵一眼，卫兵象根竹竿一样站得笔直，机枪斜拿在他那双指关节发白的手里。德国钢盔的凸边使得这个农村青年的脸看起来严肃得象一座雕像。 “使这次小小的谈话有点煞风景吧，呃？” “他是个相当老练的家伙，”帕格说。 卫兵笔直地注视着前面，在这关着门的小屋里可以闻到从他身上发出的一阵很久不洗澡的污浊气味。虽然他刮光的脸是很干净的。 “看来相当老练。我说，这是我生活中的一件意外事，我以为我会受到粗暴的拷问。也许会被弄到德国去。他们什么也没有告诉我，只说我要是不老实，就枪毙我。你准是在德国空军里有些好朋友吧。” “你有什么话要我告诉帕米拉吗？” “你会看到她吗？” “我想不会，我很快就要回华盛顿去了。我可以打电报或者写信给她。” “有很多话要告诉她。首先，不管怎样，我很好。脸上和脖子上有些烧伤。”他举起吊着的手臂。“幸而子弹只打穿骨头，没有把它打碎。对医疗上的照顾我没有什么好责备的。饮食坏透了——发了霉的黑面包，发臭的人造奶油，吃后嘴里带着汽油味，汤里全是烂土豆。前两天伙食莫名其妙地改进了，只是在我的病房里。昨天晚上我们吃了一顿真正不错的炖肉，虽然很可能是利尔的猫肉和狗肉。味道很好。我想这一切都是为了你这次小小的来访而准备的。我对你真是感激极了。真的，你居然设法能来看我，真是了不起。亨利上校，帕姆过得怎样？告诉我些她的情况吧。你最后一次什么时候见到她的？她看上去好吗？” “你失踪以后我见过她好几次。她到伦敦来过，我带她参加了一些宴会，去过一些娱乐场所。有一阵子她消瘦下去，不想吃什么。但她在恢复过来。实际上，她最后告诉我的一件事是希望你回来。还有她准备等着你，跟你结婚。” 飞行员的双眼显得湿润起来。“她是个了不起的姑娘，帕米拉。”他回头看着那士兵。“呃，他真难闻，是不是？”他看着那士兵的没有表情的脸，用一种随便的语调说：“你愿意瞧一瞧这张脸吗？说明很多事情，是不是？八千万象这个家伙一样驯顺而又危险的畜生。无怪乎希特勒成了他们的领袖。”士兵的眼睛一眨也不眨。“我真的认为他不懂得英语。” “不要信赖这个，”帕格干巴巴地说了一句，说得很快。 “嗯，告诉她我现在承认她的意见是正确的，等我回去以后我要接受司令部的工作。那才是我该去的地方。”他摇了摇头。“我真是个傻瓜。这些德国飞机就在我前面，在下边，麦式110战斗机，三个座位——这是个很好的机会。但是我没有打中，没有及时刹住。正好在他们中间俯冲下去，以后我只知道我感到肩头上挨了一下，就象重重地挨了一拳似的。我的发动机起火了，我使劲拉一下操纵杆，天晓得，它就跟折断了的脖子似的。我四面看看，发现没有了机尾。全部被打掉了。我打开座舱罩，解开降落伞背带的扣子，从里面爬了出来。我甚至不知道自己烧伤了，可是火焰一直烧到我的脸上，大部分烧到嘴旁边。我只是在盐水刺痛的时候才感觉到。”伽拉德叹了口气，向屋内扫了一眼，他郁郁不乐的眼光停在那个生硬的、发出臭气的士兵身上。“于是我到了这里。战争怎样啦？德国大夫说战争实际上已经结束了。自然这是假话。” 维克多•亨利尽可能把情况说得好些。飞行员点点头，快活起来。“这才象话呢。” 钟还在滴答地响，那个卫兵打了两下喷嚏，吓了他们一跳。他的脸变相了，眼泪从他的脸上流了下来，但他还是照样死板板地站着。 “怪就怪在这里，”伽拉德说。“你从这儿出去要跟一位德国空军将军共进午餐，而我仍然是枪口下的一个囚犯。我想你最好赶快走吧。” “不忙，拿几支烟去，我很想把这一包都给你，只是这个傻小子也许会认为这事有点蹊跷，因而引起误解。” “哈！管他叫傻小子一点不错。你考虑得可真周到，先生。”伽拉德抽出几根香烟，然后被一时的感情所驱使，忽然把那包香烟递到卫兵跟前。这个德国兵的眼睛上下移动一下，急促地摇一下头，好象一匹马在赶走苍蝇似的。 伽拉德在旧香烟头上接了一支新烟。“嘿，我不知道你是怎么办到的，不过我要谢谢你！谢谢你！你对我的帮助比你猜想到的要大得多。” “嗯，主要是靠运气，不过我终于找到了你，心里还是挺高兴。” 飞行员歪扭着脸咧嘴一笑——他那扎着绷带的嘴左边好象冻僵了一般——说：“怪不得帕姆认为你什么事都能办到。” 帕格抬头看了看那只旧钟。钟面已经模糊不清了，不过指针差不多已指到正午。“我想我最好不要让将军等得太久。” “当然啦，先生。”飞行员瞧着卫兵，又加了一句。“不管怎样，我老忘不了这个傻小子，他叫我不舒服。” 在维克多•亨利把电话筒从挂钩上拿下来的时候，钟敲了十二下。他又放了回去。 “告诉帕姆我就会看见她的，”伽拉德用坚定的口气说，暗示他有逃跑的打算。 “小心些。” “相信我好了。你知道我要为谁活着。到时候我们要找你当傧相，只要你在千英里之内。” “我要是在千英里之内，就准来。” 帕格坐车穿过利尔时，就象他上次坐在餐车里一样，再次注意到德国的统治已经稳定下来。细雨蒙蒙，在这个大工业城市的灰色街道和林荫道上，法国人在法国警察的指挥下，驾驶着带有法国牌照的法国小汽车，在法国店铺和广告牌中间忙碌。只是这儿那儿有一张用德文粗黑体字写的公告、一 个在街上或是在大楼入口上面的告示——常常写“禁止入内”这几个字——以及德国兵坐在军用卡车上巡逻的刺眼景象，使人想起希特勒是利尔的主人。毫无疑问，这个城市已经遭到掠夺，只是方式比较文雅，比较有条理。帕格听说过所采用的手法：德国人购买大部分东西都用不值一文的占领区货币支付，那些明目张胆的掠夺者征用了物资，只给一张毫无用处的手据，可是使用这些手法的过程却一点也看不出来。利尔街上熙来攘往的行人看上去有点消沉，不过维克多•亨利见过的法国人没有一个看上去不是消沉的。这儿跟在火车上一样，新秩序看来要维持一千年。 那位会拉大提琴的将军戴一顶高高的德国空军军帽，穿一双闪亮的黑皮靴，披一件拖到脚边的笔挺的蓝灰色军用雨衣，看起来比从前更高更瘦更凶狠了。中尉见了他谦卑地鞠躬并立正敬礼，司令部里每个人都对他毕恭毕敬，充分说明雅果是这里的最高级军官。他提出两个地方供维克多•亨利选择：是在附近德国空军征用的一所“相当舒适”的别墅中用一顿象样的午餐呢？还是就在这儿机场上随便吃一点。帕格说出自己的选择后，他点头表示赞成。他脱下雨衣，看也不看就让它从肩上掉下来，中尉立刻上前接住。 将军和他的客人到里边办公室里，在一张铺着台布的桌旁就座，吃着汤、鲟鱼、小牛肉、奶酪和水果。这些东西都装在金边瓷盘里，由一些脚步很轻、春风满面的法国侍者递送。雅果将军挑着菜吃，不大喝酒。维克多•亨利见他面色苍白枯黄，看出这是心脏病的征象，但没没什么。他饿了，只是埋头吃东西，将军则边抽烟边谈话，说的是一种发音有点不清的准确德语，他的中尉讲话时显然一直在模仿他。他经常停下来，捂住嘴小心地咳嗽。 雅果说，美国海军是世界上唯一在专业方面可以同德国陆军相比的军事机器。三十年代中他作为一个观察家曾去参观过，并把俯冲轰炸的观念告诉了戈林。因而德国空军发展了斯杜加式小型俯冲战斗轰炸机。“不管您赞成不赞成，”他带着疲乏的笑容说。“我们闪击战的成功，在相当大的程度上是应当归功于你们海军。” “嗯，也许我们在战后会接受这句恭维话，将军。” 雅果听了帕格这句含讥带讽的话，不高兴地点了点头，接下去说：美国陆军是无法比的，象所有现代的军队一样，它 的理论和实践都是从德国总参谋部的概念中发展推演出来的。可是他注意到美国陆军比较外行，他们在机动动作中缺乏气魄，数量也太可怜。他说，美国实质上是一个联结两个世界大洋的海上强国。武装部队的状况反映了这一地理事实。 从这里他开始谈到斯宾格勒，他说此人跟许许多多德国人一样，不能理解美国。这就是《西方的衰亡》一书中的错误。美国又成了白人基督徒的欧洲，在一个富饶的未开垦的大陆上得到重新发展的机会。美国同一个现代化的、秩序井然的欧洲结成联盟，就能够带来西方巨大的新生，带来新的黄金时代。至少这是帕格从将军不切实际的高谈阔论中理会到的一点，同他在阿本德鲁周末晚上听到的谈论，如出一辙。 喝咖啡时——咖啡的味道很可怕，就象烧焦了的胡桃壳味道——雅果说：“您肯赏光去看一下飞机场么？天气不怎么好。” “如果您的哪一位副官能抽出时间的话，我是非常愿去的。” 他那疲乏的笑容又出现了。“我在这次战役中的工作很久以前就结束了。剩下的是野战指挥官的事了。我可以陪您走一趟。” 他们乘一辆窄小的汽车在机场上兜了一圈，车里满是德国汽油的硫磺气味。太阳在低沉的天空从碧蓝云隙中照射出来，在黯淡的阳光下，粗短的麦塞施米特式109飞机从分散的地下掩体中露出一半，漆在上面的十字和a字已经剥落。这地方完全象一个英国的战斗机基地：修理工棚、飞机库、分散的营房、坐落在平静的农场中的十字形简易机场和一群群奶牛在上面吃草的波浪起伏的牧场。褪色的法文告示说明，这儿是被打垮的法国空军的扩大基地。大部分建筑都是木头或水泥造的粗糙的新房屋。有裂缝的旧着陆跑道和宽阔的新着陆跑道并列，象汽车跑道一样。 “这都是你们在六月以后完成的？”帕格说。“真不错。” 这时雅果看去象个受人恭维的老头子，高兴而温和地一笑，露出稀疏的牙齿。“您的眼光很内行。西方新闻界那些时髦家伙想知道德国空军在进攻前为什么等候了六个宝贵的星期。他们对后勤懂得些什么？” 将军说，希特勒把空军作战指挥权全部交给戈林时，他只坚持一点，但足以说明他的军事天才。在征服了低地国家和法国北部之后，前进空军基地必须按照他的命令建立起来。直到那时他才允许德国空军去打击英国。前进基地必须二倍或三倍于德国空军力量。因此，花费同样的时数，同样的飞机能够从事两三倍的进攻，这样航程缩短了，汽油的载重量可以让炸弹的载重量来代替。 “这是最简单的战略思想，”雅果说，“也是最正确的。” 他们参观了一个分散的营房，面带倦容的德国小伙子们跟英国皇家空军的飞行员很相象，他们穿着飞行服懒懒地躺着，待命出发。但他们一看见雅果，马上跳起来立正，而英国飞行员却从来不这样。营房修建得比英国营房粗糙，木墙上边，靠近油印的值班时间表和注意事项的地方，贴着身体丰满、面带笑容的女人照片，比起瘦削的英美女人来，更富于德国式的软绵绵性感。除此而外，全都一样，甚至床上被褥和飞行服装的霉味也一样。 雅果的小汽车沿着机场驶去的时候，空袭警报响了。飞行员从营房里争先恐后地出来。“停车，”雅果对司机说：又对维克多•亨利说了一句：“一次扰乱性空袭，在高空。正确的战术，我们必须作出反应，搞得我们的飞行员很狼狈。不过英国人也赔上了大量的轰炸机。脆弱的飞机，装备很差。我们要不要出去看看？” 麦塞施米特式飞机一架接一架各就其位，然后轰响着飞走，构成了一股笔直上升的战斗机洪流。 “对我来说，这是个不愉快的景象，”雅果说着，用双臂紧抱住裹在簇新长大衣里的瘦削身躯，好象身上发冷似的。 “德国人同英国人作战。钻石划钻石。这是西方的内战，纯粹是愚蠢的自杀行为。英国人明天是有可能得到体面而光荣的和平的。那只牛头犬丘吉尔依靠、就光依靠一样东西——美国的援助。” “将军，他依靠的是他的人民的勇气和他的空军的质量。” “亨利上校，如果罗斯福砍掉了全部援助，并且告诉丘吉尔说他准备谋求和平，那么这次战争能够进行多久呢？” “但那是不可能的。” “非常对，因为你们总统是被摩根韬们、弗兰克福特们和雷曼们包围住了。”帕格刚开口抗议，雅果将军就举起一只瘦削的戴着灰色长手套的手来。“我不是一个纳粹党人。我是从陆军转到空军的。不要认为排犹主义仅仅是德国问题。整个欧洲对待犹太人的态度是完全一样的。元首不过是现实主义地把它宣布出来罢了。他的有些党徒干了些愚蠢的过火行为。可是您不能因为少数人的粗暴行为就控诉整个民族。罗斯福周围的那些美国犹太人犯了我们纳粹狂热分子的同样错误。” “雅果将军，”帕格急切地插嘴说，“您怎么也相信犹太人在我们背后煽动对希特勒统治的仇恨呢？不可能犯比这更大的错误了。”他希望有那么一次能打破德国人这个牢不可破的观念。雅果是个出类拔萃的聪明人。“美国很多人非常钦佩德国人。我也一样。可是希特勒干的有些事，对任何美国人来说都是不可原谅的。” “希特勒干的事！”雅果叹了口气，他的眼睛沉重而忧郁。 “我来告诉您几件会叫您吃惊的事吧，上校。我们占领波兰的时候，制止波兰人不去谋杀犹太人的正是我们德国人。他们把我们的到来看成可以为所欲为的信号。简直成了公开虐杀犹太人的季节！累累暴行实在令人难以置信。是的，我们的武装部队不得不插手进去，把犹太人从波兰人那里救出保护起来。”将军咳得很厉害。“我不装假说我们爱犹太人。我也不说他们应该爱我们。我确确实实了解这些摩根韬们。可是他们犯的错误很可悲。美国不能允许英德之间决一死战。我们属于一种文化。我们都属于西方。如果我们内部拚个你死我活，我们就会向亚洲布尔什维主义屈膝。接着就会是一千年的野蛮黑暗时期。” 雅果沉默下来，他的凹陷的、多少有点兴奋的眼睛盯住帕格。然后他伸出了一只僵硬不灵的长指头。“能有几个强有力的顾问把这个观点告诉你们总统该多好！可是那几个顾问除了犹太人，就是有英国血统的。情况就是这么糟糕！我们会打败英国人的，亨利上校，我们有这力量。我们从来不打算跟他们作战。元首很可以修造一千艘潜艇，在三个月内把英国扼死。他从来没有强调过潜艇。您是知道的。取得这样的胜利对我们有什么好处呢？我们只不过把我们最优秀的天然盟国打垮罢了。” “嗯，将军，波兰还是英国盟国的时候你们进攻了它。你们跟斯大林做了交易。这些事情你们都做出来了。” “这些事情都是强迫我们做的。”雅果用戴手套的手捂住嘴，大声而有礼貌地咳了起来。“我们是奇怪的民族，亨利上校，不容易被外人了解。我们非常严肃，非常天真。我们老是想得到天上的星星。在外人看来，我们似乎有点麻木不仁和飞扬跋扈。我们的英国兄弟也完全一样飞扬跋扈，我向您保证。哎，可是他们学会一种礼貌！他们瞧不起犹太人。他们在权力集中的俱乐部、银行和一切要害部门都排斥犹太人。可是他们对待犹太人的态度却彬彬有礼。我们呢，在我们的最高机构接纳犹太人，可他们蜂拥而来，几乎喧宾夺主。可是我们显露了我们的感情。区别就在这里。德国人爱感情用事，象浮士德那样不断地追求。为了追求荣誉，他会唱着快乐的歌，步行或飞行或航行着奔向死亡。这就是我们的天真，不错，我们的原始性。但这是健康的。美国也有它自己的天真，那就是边疆的原始现实主义，那些两部牧童。 “所有这一切说明什么呢？我们需要美国朋友出来解释一下，这次战争有两个方面，唯一的解决办法是西方的和平，西方的统一，可以控制世界的西方联盟——啊，瞧那儿，英国的投弹手对法国的牲畜未免太残忍了一些，不过他们也就有这点儿能耐。” 远处一座小山上，在烟火弥漫中大堆大堆的倒圆锥形泥土高高地飞向空中，牛群笨拙地四处乱跑。将军看了下表。 “我要到指挥所开个小会，您要是能留下来吃晚饭，利尔倒有一家好饭馆。——” “我得回柏林去，将军。我无法表达我的谢意，不过——” 戴手套的手举了起来。“甭提啦。跟一个对我们的局势有所了解的美国人，一个职业军人谈谈，对我的健康的确很有好处。” 当雅果在指挥所大楼入口处把维克多•亨利转交给他的中尉时，麦塞施米特式飞机正在雨中着陆。 “关于空军上尉伽拉德我们要是还有什么地方可以效劳，请告诉我们。”雅果说着，脱下一只手套，伸出一只潮湿的凉手来。“auf wiedersehen①，亨利上校。要是我对您有过一点点帮助的话，我只向您提这么个要求。不管您以后在哪儿工作，请记住战争有两个方面，任何一方都有一些正派人。” 在沃夫•斯多勒的银行里，雕饰华丽的天花板似乎有四丈高。已经下了班。格子窗后边还有少数几个办事员在默默地工作。在高高的拱形圆屋顶下面，两个人踏在红色大理石地板上的脚步声听起来好象一排兵士在齐步走。“现在这里有点儿阴暗，”斯多勒说，“可是非常幽静。走这边，维克多。” 他们穿过一间相当大的会议室走进一间布置得富丽堂皇的小办公室，四壁墙上挂满了油画；亨利虽然所知不多，也认出了两幅毕加索的和一幅雷诺阿的。 ①德语：再见。 “哦，你这样快就要走了，”斯多勒说着，向一只笨重的栗色皮躺椅做了个手势。“是在你的意料中吗？” “嗯，我原以为要等一两个星期才会来调令。可是我刚从利尔回来，他已在那里等着了。” “当然你是急于跟你那位非常美丽的妻子团聚的。” 维克多•亨利瞧了眼那幅比较大的毕加索画，那是一幅色彩过于鲜艳、被歪曲得奇形怪状的女人像。“我还以为现代艺术在第三帝国是不受欢迎的呢，”他说。 Stoller smiled. “在这儿并没有落价。元帅有世界上最大的收藏。他是一个非常有文化修养的人。他知道事情会发生变化。” "can you?" “肯定会，只等战争结束。我们是一个受到围攻的国家，维克多。神经过于紧张，极端主义的情绪笼罩着一切。这一切很快就会成为过去。欧洲将会成为一个生活非常美好的地区。德国更会是欧洲最舒适的地方。喝一杯雪利酒好吗？” “太好啦，谢谢。” 斯多勒从一只沉甸甸的水晶圆酒瓶里斟酒。“我们为什么干杯？我敢说你不会为德国的胜利干杯的。”帕格带着苦笑说：“你知道，我们是中立的。” “啊，是的。啊，维克多，你们要是真的中立就好啦！我们会多么高兴地在这一点上取得一致意见！那么，为光荣的和平干杯好吗？” “当然好。为光荣的和平干杯。”他们喝酒。 “酒还可以吧？” “好极啦。我对酒不是内行。” “据说这是欧洲最好的雷利酒。” “确是好极啦。” 银行家坐到一把扶手椅上，点燃一根长雪茄。在天花板上的灯光照耀之下，他的头皮透过稀疏的头发露出粉红色。 “你去利尔的小小旅行是一次成功吧？” “是的，我得谢谢你和将军。” “请别客气。按照一般规定，这样的事不仅不同寻常，而且简直绝对办不到。可是在正派人士之间，是有特殊规定的。”斯多勒发出一声叹息。“嗯，维克多，我巴巴儿的请你来见我，当然不会是单纯请你喝杯雪利酒。” “我想你也不会这样。” “你是一个军人。有一些特殊的谈话有时必须忘掉，不要留下一点痕迹。在德语里我们对这类非常微妙的事情有一句特别用语。'在四只眼睛下面'。” “我听见过这个用语。” “下面透露的事就是在四只眼睛下面。” 维克多•亨利听了感到非常奇怪，觉得只有让银行家说下去，此外没有别的办法。下面会发生什么事，他无法想象；他最好的猜测是从戈林那里伸出来的一根间接的小小和平触须，要他转达给总统。 “你跟格列戈•雅果谈到过关于战争的进程。关于这次德英之间自相残杀的悲剧性错误。”帕格点了点头。 “你觉得他的想法有道理吗？” “坦白说，我们在海军里是不学地理政治学的。至少我们没有那么一课。所以我是不懂得斯宾格勒等人那一套。” “你是一个美国的实用主义者，”斯多勒笑着说。 “我是个学射击学的，被错误地安排在外交界，可一心希望脱离这一行。” “我相信你。正派人都希望在战场上服务。” “我愿意于我学过的那一行。” “你真认为，美国的援助和希望得到更多的美国援助是支持英国继续作战的原因？” “有点儿。他们不想退却。他们认为他们打得赢。” “靠美国的援助。” “嗯，他们认为可以得到。” “那么横在整个西方世界和光荣的和平——这是你我刚才为之干杯的——之间的，主要是丘吉尔对罗斯福援助的信赖。” 帕格停了几分钟才回答。“也许是，可是什么才算是光荣的和平呢？丘吉尔要搞掉希特勒。希特勒要搞掉丘吉尔。这两位先生都同样牢靠地掌着权，两位又都真正代表着民族意志。问题就这样明摆着。” “你就要回去当罗斯福总统的海军副官啦。”斯多勒说这话时带点询问口气。 帕格的脸上没有露出一点惊异的样子。“我是回到人事局去等待新的任命的。” 银行家的笑容表示着容忍和自信。“好吧，我们关于这类事的情报通常是正确的。现在，维克多，让我说完我的话，在我说完之前别打断我。我就要求这点，好不好？” "Ok." 银行家吸了两口雪茄。“正派人彼此谈话的时候使用一种特殊的语言，维克多，我现在就是用那种特殊的词汇跟你交谈。这些事情是极其微妙的。说到头，在字句之外还必须有一种精神上的联系。对于你，格列戈•雅果和我都感到有那种联系。你一直是无比正确，可是跟很多美国大使馆的人员不同，你并不把德国人看成是些吃人的生番。你一直把我们当作跟你们一样的人看待。你那美丽可爱的妻子也一样。我向你保证，这情况已经受到了注意。至于你同情英国，那是很自然的。我也一样。我爱英国，我在牛津呆过两年。 “现在，你听见格列戈谈起过犹太人在你们总统周围的影响，我知道你不得不否认这一点，可这是这次战争中一件非常严重的事实，我们必须面对这个事实，并采取必要的措施。” 帕格想开口说话。斯多勒举起僵直的手掌阻止他。“你答应要听完我的话，维克多。在这种情况下，我们在华盛顿需要朋友。不象犹太人那样厚颜无耻地施加影响，只是提供事情的另外一面。罗斯福是个视野非常广阔的人，我们可以让他看到，根据美国的利益必须在西方迅速实现光荣的和平。至少有一点是可以肯定的，只有这样他才能腾出手来对付日本。你认为我们真的关心日本？那个新协定不过是一场喜剧，好让俄国人担点儿心，安分守己。 “现在，维克多——记住这是在四只眼睛下面——我们真有这样的朋友。不多，有几个。都是些爱国的美国人，他们看到的是战争的现实，而不是犹太人和丘吉尔的宣传——说到丘吉尔，他始终什么也不是，只是个有自大狂的冒险家。我们希望你将是另一个这样的朋友。” 维克多•亨利很后悔不该把那杯雪利酒喝得那么快。谈话正转到需要认真对待的地方。他把身子