Chapter 40 Chapter Forty

In the dim, silent train station, two Secret Service agents helped the president out of the car and helped him to his feet.He was much taller than them, and wore a greatcoat with a velvet collar, and his gray bonnet was pulled down low, and was fanned by the bitter cold wind.Holding an agent's arm with one hand and leaning on a cane with the other, he limped up the ramp with the railing.When he came to the front, he put on his gloves, flipped his legs all the way, and dragged himself into the rear car of the train.Standing a few yards away, Victor Henry could see his broad shoulders heaving under his coat.A tall woman with a dangling brown feather in her hat ran up with a flap of paper in her hand and touched Victor Henry on the arm. "Colonel, you go to the president's car."

Going up the slope, Pug realized why the president was wearing gloves: the steel railing was so cold that the skin on his hands was sticky.A waiter led Victor Henry through the pantry.Here, another waiter is rattling ice in a cocktail shaker. "Sir, you stay here. When you are ready, the President will ask you to come and accompany him." It was a room separated from an ordinary Pullman sleeper car, and the strong train smell was the same as that of ordinary cars.The green upholstery was dusty and worn.Victor Henry hung up his coat and hat in a small apartment, brushed his hair, plucked between his fingers, and wiped his polished leather shoes lightly with tissue paper.The train began to slide slowly, without vibration or sound.

"Sit down, sit down, Pug," the President waved to him from an easy chair. "What do you drink? Whiskey and lemon, because Harry drank it all night. But we can have anything with it." "Mr. President, whiskey and lemon are great. Thank you." Harry Hopkins lolled on the green sofa and said, "Hello, Colonel!" It is said that Roosevelt was sick, but in fact, Hopkins looked uglier than Hopkins: thin, sunken chest, gray complexion.The president was ruddy—perhaps feverish—and his black-rimmed eyes were sparkling, with a dashing red bow that matched the jovial, relaxed expression on his broad face.Sitting in the chair, he was a well-built man, although his legs were pitifully bare of bones, as could be seen from the leg of his trousers.A thought flashed through Pug's mind: Washington and Lincoln were also very tall.

"Pug, how do you like poetry?" The president's cultivated accent always felt a little unnatural to the naval officer. "Did you know that there is a poem whose last two lines are: 'There is no train I refuse to take, and I don't care where it goes.' 1 Ah, that's how I feel now. Just being on this train makes me feel Twice as good." The president put the back of his hand to his mouth and coughed roughly. "Well, it's a good ninety percent—if it's a steamer, it'll be twice as much." ① Quoted from the third section of the collection of poems "Travel" by American poetess Millay (1892-1950).

"Sir, I prefer boats, too." "Why, what you complained before came out again, sailor?" "No, sir, not really. I'm glad I'm in the battle plan." "Really? I'm glad to hear that, then. Of course, I don't have the slightest idea what you're up to with your English companions." "Sir, I understand that." The President raised his eyebrows amusedly, and went on: "I don't even know a shadow. The Secretary of Defense received the thing you drafted yesterday, and when it bounces back to Lord Burner-Walker, he will It looks like my handwriting on the edited place. That is just a coincidence."

"I remember that." "Must remember. You remember, on the first page of the forwarded letter, there was a sentence that began: 'When the United States went to war. Drop it, and change it to 'in case the United States is forced to go to war'. This change is not big, but it is very important!" At this time, the waiter brought drinks.The President took a tall glass of orange water. "Doctor's order: Plenty of fruit juice. Have you brought that, Harry?" "Here it is, Mr. President." "Let's get down to it, then. I'd like to have a quick snack and then try to sleep on it. Pug, did you sleep well on the train?"

"Sleep well, sir, as long as you can regulate the temperature in the car. But it's usually either scorching hot or freezing cold." The President threw his head back. "Ha, ha, listen to me tell you a state secret: the president of the United States is in the same trouble. They are building me a special steel armored car. I have told them: I don't care about anything else, but the heating must be Good luck! Harry, let's call it fast food." He glanced at his watch. "Pug, are you hungry? I'm hungry. I'll tell you one more state secret: White House food could be much better. Tell them I want sturgeon and eggs. I've been thinking about sturgeon and eggs for a while." God." Hopkins stepped forward.

As far as Pug knew, the President's carriage was a regular Pullman coach converted into a living room.He had thought the president's car would be more impressive.Roosevelt rested one elbow on the armrest of the chair and the other on his knee, and looked out the window with a serene and heroic expression. "I do feel better every minute. You can't imagine how much I love getting off that phone. How about your kids? One pilots a plane in the Navy and the other is a young submarine officer." Victor Henry knew the president liked to show off his memory, but it still surprised and moved him. "They're all very well, sir, but how do you remember?"

The President said, with a little boyish triumph, "Ah, Pug, a man in politics has to learn the virtues of an elephant: his good memory, his thick skin, and, of course, his long, A nose that sniffs everything. Hahaha!" Hopkins came back and sat down on the sofa again, bent over with exhaustion.He unzipped his briefcase and handed Colonel Henry a three-page document with a dark copy attached to it. "Look at this." Pug read the first page with disbelief, then wonder—while the wheels of the train were rattling slowly.After he had read the document page by page, he looked from Hopkins to the President, not wanting to speak first.In his hand was an astonishing summary of German operational orders obtained by Army intelligence, which a group of anti-Nazi army officers in the German Army had deliberately slipped into a clerk at the American embassy in Berlin.Pug was familiar with this man, but he hadn't expected this man to serve as a relay.Franklin Roosevelt said, "Do you think that's true?"

"Oh, sir, judging from the photocopied thing on the first page, it is indeed very similar to the German military documents I have seen. The title is very similar, the font, paragraphs, etc. are very similar." "What about the content?" "If true, then, Mr. President, this is an incredible breakthrough in intelligence." The president smiled, wearily showing tolerance for the naivete of a junior. "If these two words are the most difficult words in the language." Hopkins said hoarsely, "does this seem to be true to you?" "I can't say, sir. I'm not that familiar with Russian geography."

"We in the Army felt it was half-true," Hopkins said. "Colonel, why would anyone forge such an astonishing document—a complete operational order for the invasion of the Soviet Union, with so much detail?" Pug thought for a moment, then said cautiously: "Oh, sir, perhaps it is hoped that this method will stimulate the Soviet Union to mobilize, so as to provoke a war on two fronts. In that case, the German army may overthrow or kill the Soviet Union. Hitler. Also, it could be a deliberate ploy by German intelligence to see how close we are to the Russians. There are all kinds of possibilities." "That's the trouble," the president said with a yawn. "Our ambassador to Russia asked us to make sure not to pass it on to the Russians. Moscow, he said, was full of stuff like this. The Russians decided it was coming from British intelligence to create trouble between Stalin and Hitler. to get the Germans off the back of the British." The President coughed laboriously for almost a minute.He leaned back in his chair, caught his breath, and looked out the window at the street lights of a small town the train was passing by.Suddenly, he looked bored. Harry Hopkins bent forward, balancing the glass between his hands. "There is a question of whether or not this document should be given to the Russian ambassador here in Washington, Pug, any comments?" Pug hesitated.Such a political issue was beyond his grasp.President Roosevelt said with some impatience, "Speak, Pug." "I am in favor of giving it to him." "Why?" Hopkins said. "What has he got to lose, sir? If it's true, it's a huge gain on our relationship with the Russos. If it's false, so what? They're not any worse than they are now." Trust us." The tired tension on Harry Hopkins' face disappeared in a warm and kind smile. "I think that's a pretty shrewd answer," he said. "Because that's what I told myself too." He took the papers from Pug, put them back in the briefcase, and zipped it up. "Are the sturgeon and eggs ready?" said Franklin Roosevelt. "I can't wait." "Mr. President, let me take a look." Hopkins immediately stood up.Pug lay on that narrow bed for an hour or so, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.It was so hot that he was sweating in the compartment, and it was freezing cold at the next, and it was useless for him to fiddle with the regulator.In the end he simply let it cool down, because he slept better in the cold air.The slow, measured movement of the train also began to lull him to sleep. Bang, bang. "Sir, the President wants to talk to you. Would you like to wear a bathrobe, sir? The President ordered that you don't have to get dressed and go to his room." "Thank you. I have a bathrobe." Pug shivered from his cold room to the president's overheated bedroom.Franklin D. Roosevelt's famous big-jawed face, pince-nez and breezy cigarette holder were set against a pair of blue pajama pants, a gray sweatshirt stained with coffee and a worn-out bulky The figure looks very strange.The president's thinning hair is disheveled and his eyes are hazy.Stripped of his idiosyncratic style and presidential dignity, he was like many old people lying in bed: frail, decrepit and melancholy.There was a smell of medicine in the bedroom.The sight disturbed Victor Henry, for the President looked so weak, so sickly, so insignificant.At the same time, it was also because Roosevelt was only seven or eight years older than him, but he seemed to be very old.A stack of papers was piled on top of the blue blanket.He is marking something with a pencil on a sheet he holds in his hand. "Pug, did I disturb your sweet dreams?" "Not at all, sir." "Sit down a minute, old man." The President took off his glasses with two fingers and gave his eyes a vigorous massage.As the train rattled on a bumpy track, the bottles by the bed also clinked. "Oh, my eyes hurt," he said. "Do your eyes hurt? Nothing works. Whenever this sinus attack flares up, the eyes always hurt more." He picked up the folder and put it on the blanket. "Pug, there is one thing I have promised myself to do--if I could find the time--that is, to write up a memorandum of business that comes to me in only one day. Pick any day, any twenty In the middle of four hours, you'll be amazed." He tapped the paper lightly. "That would make for a valuable indirect light on history, don't you think? Take this mess I've been dealing with tonight. It looks like Vichy France is going to enter into a full alliance with Hitler. By stopping supply Should they feed them and threaten them with starvation?—this is the British suggestion; When the French were given more food, the Germans simply swallowed more of the food the French produced themselves. What do you think? . . . read this." He picked up a folder he had folded. "The Japanese foreign minister is meeting with Hitler. You've seen it in the papers. What are they up to? We're moving the Asiatic Fleet from Manila to Singapore to give them some hesitation before invading the French and Dutch East Indies Is that what the British think; or is it prudent to withdraw all the Pacific Fleet to the West Coast?—that is what the Chief of Naval Operations wants to do. I would like to hear your opinion on the matter by the way. And then there's the burning question - the Azores. Shall we take them before Hitler invades Portugal and take them? Or will we force Hitler to invade Portugal instead?" The President continued to flick other documents as if they were bills from a butcher shop or a grocery store. "Ah, by the way, the Selective Service Act. Things are going badly on that front. Here's the report from Stimson. The original mandate from Congress is expiring in a few months. Now we've got to start another fight over this." New legislative fight. But on the heels of the Lend-Lease campaign, Congress won't be in the mood to extend the draft period. If they don't, we'll be militarily powerless - Morgan Tow The Ministry of Finance wants to force me to freeze all investments in Germany and Italy in the United States, but the State Department disagrees, and our investment in these two countries is four times the amount they invest in us - Morgan Tao again. The British agreed to put them Sell ​​all the investments here and give us all the dollars they have, Morgan Tao has told Congress they are going to do it, but now the British are holding back. There is more of this kind of thing. Old man, it's just the middle of the day A historian would be interested in such a cross-section, wouldn't he? I had the Wilson and Lincoln files searched, and they never dealt with so much business. I'm going to make this Write a memo." Roosevelt coughed badly and for a long time.He closed his eyes and curled up, one hand behind his back.In the swaying train, this posture made him lose his balance, and his huge body was about to fall over like a tilted wooden barrel.Victor Henry rushed over to stabilize his shoulders, but the president's long and powerful arms were against the edge of the bed. "Thanks, Pug, this train wasn't supposed to go over thirty-five miles an hour. They're picking up speed a little bit." He rubbed his back. "When I cough, it hurts like a knife. But Dr. McIntyre told me it must be a tendon, that is, not pleurisy. I can't really have a pleurisy right now. I'd better have some more of that cough." Medicine. Pass me the spoon and the bottle of red medicine, please. Thank you, old chap.” The President swallowed a tablespoon of medicine and grimaced.Tilting his big head to one side like all nightclubs imitate.Roosevelt gave the captain a sharp look with his bloodshot eyes. "Pug, the German subs are expanding westwards with their new wolf pack tactics. They are sinking more than our shipyards and British shipyards combined can build new ships. You must have noticed this. gone." "Sir, I have heard much of this in our meetings." "Do you believe what the British say about the tons sunk?" "I believe, sir." "I believe it too. As soon as Lend-Lease was passed, we sent a lot of supplies to the land. But the supplies can only be shipped to England, and they can never be shipped to the bottom of the ocean. This is extremely important." Roosevelt's casual reference to Lend-Lease surprised Victor Henry.Like the British, he was sweating for a heated debate in the Senate. "Sir, do you think Lend-Lease will pass?" "Oh, this bill will pass," the president said casually. "But what about later? There are seventy ships waiting to be loaded, Pug. This shipment just can't be sunk by a German U-boat. The British need this supply. They need to see it arrive even more to cheer them up." Fighting spirit. The problem is how to get them as far as Iceland - from there, the British can escort themselves. But from here to Iceland, they can't help it. Their escort line can't be stretched any longer. So, we what to do?" Under the President's questioning gaze, Victor Henry said anxiously, "Sir, that's only the escort." The President shook his head gloomily. "Pug, you know what happens when escort is mentioned at this moment." The question of convoys was the most hotly debated in the Lend-Lease struggle.The Raguqiu Group clamored loudly that if the "Lend-Lease" was passed, the warmongers would inevitably demand escorts for ships carrying supplies in the next step, and escorts would mean an immediate war with Germany.What the president has insisted in public is that the United States will not change its policy of "neutral patrols" in the Atlantic Ocean, and will not provide escorts. Roosevelt's stern, flushed face was lined, and the sly, mischievous look Pug had grown to know was back. "I'm thinking about it, though. Let's say, how about we send a destroyer detachment out for a drill? You know, not for convoys. Not convoys at all. Just a rehearsal of convoy procedures—professional drills, you might say. Navy Drills a lot, don't you? That's what you do. Well, let's say the destroyers on this drill take a fancy to these transports and are willing to sail with them—purely for drills, you understand, and that's all. One trip. To avoid obstacles and entanglements, assuming everything is done in the least formal manner, with no written orders and no records kept. You don't think the German subs saw sixteen Benson-class American destroyers covering the transports, they would A little hesitant?" "Hesitating, yes. But, Mr. President, what will happen in the future depends on the orders of their superiors." "They have already been ordered not to conflict with our warships." When Roosevelt said this, his tone and expression were very cold. "That is obvious." Victor Henry's pulse beat violently. "Sir, they have never encountered our destroyer escort. What if a submarine came and fired a torpedo?" "I don't believe this happened," Roosevelt said curtly. "The Germans probably didn't even notice the transports until the British took over the convoys. The weather in the North Atlantic is extremely harsh at the moment. Most of the German submarines are still on the Icelandic side," he said, sticking to the mouth of his cigarette. Plug in a cigarette.Victor Henry quickly lit him with his lighter. "Thank you. This is against the doctor's orders. But I need one. Pug, I want to get this done. I'm thinking, maybe you go to sea with the destroyer to deal with this matter." Colonel Henry forced himself Shocked, said: "Yes, yes, sir." "It's very much like the last time the plane was transferred, you did a good job with that. It's up to you to do everything in the most calm, nonchalant, non-aggressive way. The key is to keep no records, especially no context. , just quietly and foolproofly getting those ships as far as Iceland. Can it be done?" The captain sat hunched over, looking at the President for maybe a minute. "Yes, sir." "Insiders are kept to the absolute minimum. I haven't even spoken to Harry Hopkins about it." "Sir, of course General Stark and General King must know. Also, the Commander, the supporting force, and the officer tactically directing this cover mission. The rest of the personnel participating in the exercise will just follow orders." Roosevelt smiled and exhaled a puff of smoke. "Good! It would be great if you could limit yourself to three generals and one officer. But there will be a lot of discussion about the many personnel who will be participating in this exercise." Victor Henry said nonchalantly, "Not much." Franklin Roosevelt raised his bushy eyebrows. "Mr. President, what would we do if the U-boats attacked? I agree that's unlikely, but what if?" Roosevelt watched him through the wreath of smoke. "We're betting it doesn't happen." "I understand, sir." "You know that if there's a belligerent incident, that destroys the whole idea," the president said, "and you understand the other implications." "Yes, sir." "Well, now tell me," said the President, much softer, "tell me honestly what you think of this idea. I came up with it myself. If you think it's bad, go ahead and tell me why. not good." Victor Henry sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, marking with one index finger on the other. "Well, sir—first of all, as you say, those fellows on the U-boat might not see us at all. They'd be surprised if they did. They'll have to radio for instructions. We might run into The last guy who didn't care what to do, but I don't think so. I know the guys on the German submarine. Professionally, they are excellent officers. This is a policy that has to be consulted with Hitler Decision. It will take time to ask for instructions. Mr. President, I think this batch of ships can pass smoothly." "Excellent." "But only once. It's a policy surprise. It's too risky to do it again." Roosevelt sighed and nodded. "Exactly. The whole situation is too dire to take some risks. The British say that many of their damaged destroyers will be ready for action before the second major convoy begins. Some coast patrol cutters are being gifted to Canada—Pag, no word—so that they can help close the gap from here to Iceland. This first batch of Lend-Lease supplies is especially relevant." The President gathers the papers scattered on the blanket. "Put these in that box, please." The President was snuggling back under the blanket on his arms when Victor Henry closed the briefcase.He yawned, "What happened to the ones with the British?" "On the whole, very good, Mr. President." The president yawned again. "It's time to start doing this type of joint staff work. It's very important. I'm happy with it." He clicked off the bedside light, leaving only a faint light in the alcove According to this bedroom. "They gave you some trouble over Singapore, didn't they?" "Sir, we've actually put that problem aside. There's no solution." "Pug, you can turn off all the lights, the button is by the door." "Yes, sir." A blue light and the butt of the president's cigarette still glowed in the dark.His voice in the blanket was tired and half-clogged. "It still comes up from time to time. Of course they're clinging to the Reich, but at the moment it's about defeating Hitler. That's a whole different thing. They're always on the same thing. So—Par Let's talk about that exercise tomorrow morning, Gee." The president used the clever word with sarcasm and complacency. "Yes, yes, sir." "This sea voyage will give you a change of scenery, and you will be very happy. When you come back, I want to treat you, your wife, and your family to a simple meal in peace and quiet. Mrs. Roosevelt I often talk about you." "Thank you, Mr. President. I am very honored." "Good night, old chap." The red cigarette butt in the ashtray went out.Just as Victor Henry was reaching for the doorknob, the President suddenly said, "Pug, some of the best people around me have been urging me to declare war. They say that war is inevitable and that only by declaring war can the people be united." Rise up and put them all to the service of the war. I reckon you agree with them." The captain of the navy thought for a while, looking at the burly figure in the blue light. "Yes, Mr. President, I agree." "Wars are a bad thing," the President said. "A very bad thing. The moment may be coming, but it's not there yet. In the meantime, I'll just have to keep being called a warmonger, a coward, an indecisive, all rolled into one." That's it. That's how I earn my salary. Get some rest, Pug."