Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen

Leslie.Slote handed over a photocopy of the "Wannsee Meeting Minutes" to the US Minister in Berne, calling the material "urgent". william.Tuttle was a retired California railroad millionaire and West Point graduate.In the First World War, he was hit by a piece of shrapnel from the German army and lost one eye, so he retired from the military.This turned out to be rich.The tall, pot-bellied Republican veteran naturally hated the New Deal and vehemently disapproved of the third term for the socialist son of a bitch in the White House.However, as France fell in June 1940, the Republicans nominated a man named Wendell in July.Wilkie's lay politician was running for president, and Tuttle thought it better to keep that socialist bastard in the White House.He led the California branch of "Republicans for Roosevelt", was spurned by relatives and friends before the election, and got a job as a diplomat after the election.Slote liked the freelance envoy.If the man who ran the railway company lacked diplomatic experience, he had at least some common sense, and he could make immediate decisions on difficult issues without hesitation.

Sloter did not hear from Tuttle for three days, and then at nine or ten in the morning the envoy called him. "Oh, hey, Les, come on, let's talk." For the representative of the United States of America in Switzerland, this office is a bit plain: the bookshelves are full of official documents that no one seems to read, the dark old furniture, the three windows facing the bald trees in the mist outside, and the On a sunny day, the Alps can be seen from the window.The envoy leaned back in a swivel chair, resting his ten thick fingers on his stomach, and talked about the war in a broad way, which made Sloter baffled.He said the safe sailing of the German Schaushorst and Gneisenau from Brest was a sign of British decline, worse than the fiasco in Malaya. "My God, Les! Malaya is on the other side of the world. But if the Royal Navy and the Air Force can't stop two battered German battleships from slipping away from their guns through the English Channel, then sure." Something's wrong -- either their intelligence is faulty, or their readiness is faulty, or both."

Sloter caught a whiff of liqueur-flavored smoke and saw August, the third secretary.Fan.Huainanger walked in with a folder, which turned out to be the folder where Sloter put the documents of the Wanhu meeting.Sloter's heart turned cold when he saw it.Fan.Winanger was the one in the embassy who had the most distaste for Jewish affairs: was it because he was a consul--he had just been transferred through the Bureau of Foreign Agencies not long ago--or was it because he had the deep-rooted attitude of upper-class people? Anti-Semitism, Sloter couldn't say.He knew that Jastrow had had trouble with this guy in Florence.Sloter thinks Van.Winanger is a pompous bastard who clings to his family tree absurdly.

"Les Oji has some experience in intelligence work. Would you like him to join us?" Tuttle said. "That's kind, Your Excellency." Fan.Huainange sat down with a smile, stretched his bulging short legs, and put the folder on the desk. "Well, what do you think of the material, Rice? What action do you recommend?" said the envoy. "I think it's a very important authoritative document. The Legation should send an urgent telegram briefing summary to the Secretary of State, who will then be delivered to him by special air courier." Minister Chao Fan.Take a look at Winang, Fan.Winanger was smiling broadly and generously. "Auggie doesn't think so."

"I don't think so. To put it mildly, it's a 'compassionate hoax.'" Sloot forced a grin. "I want to learn from Gao Jian Aoji." Fan.With a smile on his face, Huainange exhaled a puff of blue smoke with the aroma of sweet wine. "Well, let's start with the time and place of the connection. Leslie, you met a beautiful girl at a party. Not long after, her father, a Dr. Jacob Asher, suddenly asked You go to dinner. You have a reputation for sympathy for the Jews, you are new here, and you are not very familiar with Bern. So—" "Come on, stop talking—"

"Let me finish, man." Van.Huainanger turned his eyes to the envoy, holding the short blond hair in one hand. "So there was a priest at the table who offered to give you archives about the situation of the Jews! Wonderful! Jacob Ascher happened to be the chairman of the Berne Jewish Association, and he was closely tied to the embassies of various countries to issue entry visas to refugees. But he is an honest man after all, so it may be said that some scheming forger deceived him and your priest, probably this so-called document was taken, and it may have been cheated on Asher A lot of money. Of course, he would love to get it, it would be a wonderful publicity tool for him."

"Auggie, what you're talking about is just reasoning. If the Germans used the war as an excuse to massacre--I guess that's the case--President Roosevelt could use this document to mobilize world opinion against them." "Come on, buddy. The Nazi mistreatment of the Jews has been squeezed out for years. People don't do anything about it. As for mass crimes, this document is pure fantasy." "why?" "Why? Oh, please don't bother me. You think the cabinet meeting at the ministerial level to discuss such a horrific plan can be so peaceful-and it is written in a document! Such things will never appear in writing .Ah, the exaggerated writing, the elaborate jokes, the after-the-moment tone! The whole thing is a superficial figment, Leslie, and very poorly written." Fan.Winanger picked up the file folder slowly, and pulled out the stack of black paper, exuding the unpleasant smell of potion. "Look at this mess! The Germans have the best copying equipment in the world, and by the way, they're never copying documents that are black and white. They're reprinting from negatives, and it's all black and white, I mean. , I admire your sympathy, but—”

"Never mind my sympathy," Sloter snapped. "I know Dr. Ascher perfectly. As for the documents, I say they are true. The style is gaudy and boring, like most of the official German documents we've both read. Everyone at the meeting He is a talker with boring language. Everyone blindly flatters Chairman Heydrich according to the German fashion. This article is a Germanic official accent. Besides, it’s about putting a cruel and inhuman Fang Han into words—” Sloter Turning to Tuttle, "Your Excellency, that doesn't get any more German than that. I have a degree in German political history. Listen, Augie, go read Tresik." Well, think Ruge. Think Lagarde. God, think! Hitler was nothing more than a self-taught street demagogue, but even he used politically charged terms and a grandiose Pseudo-philosophical morality to justify his most brutal ideas. I don't want to give a lecture on the subject, but—"

"I read it," Tuttle said. Sloter pounded on the desk with his fist. "Come on, sir, I see that this document was copied by an underground German, Free Germany. I think he did it at the risk of torture, death threats, and exposure of his anti-Nazi organization. I Look, he smuggled a pocket photocopier into the top-secret file room, and he did it in a panic. Isn't copying this document just as risky as taking a photo secretly? In Germany today, don't you sign a paper that will send you to the gallows? Receipt, I’m sorry you don’t even want to buy this kind of photocopy paper that can print black text on a white background.”

"You're a zealous advocate, man," Van said.Winanger smiled again. "Note that this stuff is dated January 20th. A top-secret report was formalized, approved, mimeographed, filed, secretly copied and secretly shipped to Bern in less than three weeks? No, Rice, I sympathize with your sympathy, but—” "Jesus, Augie," Sloter gasped. "Don't use that goddam word of sympathy any more! Such a document will be sent to the outside world in haste, of course! It tells of a crime no one can imagine!" "Gee! I admire your compassion, Les," Van.Winanger replied softly, "Let me tell you a little story. In Florence, a document was passed to me in the same way as a set of espionage activities. It involved Italy's top-secret combat plan .In writing and appearance, it is not so shoddy as this one, it is completely invulnerable. Even so, it can be seen as a forgery. I said so. However, our embassy in Rome believed it and handed it to The British. They analyzed the document carefully and laughed it off. It turned out to be full of nonsense, designed to lead their whole North African strategy astray. So it is clear. Those things are carefully crafted, and this"— — he waved at the photocopy with limp fingers — "the work of a low-level fool."

"Okay, Auggie, thanks a lot," Bill said.Tuttle said. The third secretary, with a smile on his face, was polite, even apologetic, waved his pipe, stood up and left. Tuttle turned the swivel chair half a turn, crossed his fingers and hugged the back of his head. "Sorry, Les, I agree with Auggie that this thing is a wild fantasy of the ignorant, cobbled together into a horror story, and a worthless disinformation." Although Slote had expected Van.How Winanger would react, but Tuttle's words came as a real surprise to him. "Why do you say that?" Tuttle was lighting a cigar.He sucked it in his mouth with relish, and then waved his cigar at the folder. "Just the railroad thing. I've been gathering intelligence on European railroads since I've been here. General Marshall asked me to do it. I've known George for a long time. I send him regular briefings. In Europe All the wagons in the occupied German territories won't do it. Leslie, you're dealing here with millions, millions of people being transported by an already distressed and deteriorating rail system. Hitler just transported him The army, supplies, and foreign labor were all overwhelmed. The station was full of food, fuel, tanks, and shells, such essential supplies. The officers and soldiers of the entire division sat on the sidelines on, because the trains couldn't carry them to the front, and the British blew up their locomotive yards and railway yards. It's not going to get better, it's only going to get worse, understand? So such a turnaround is not How can a clever railroad system transport eleven million people back and forth across Europe with some crazy massacre scheme?" Tuttle shook his head. "That's a lot of nonsense. The man who forged this document has no idea about railways. It's a pity he didn't do any research." While the envoy delivered these tirades, Sloter slumped in his armchair, biting his dead pipe, with a look of despair. "Your Excellency, I am not afraid of being seen as sympathetic to the Jews. May I reply?" "Say what you want," Tuttle grinned. "It's just that there is no need to go through such a lot of trouble. Just cast a net all over Western Europe and use the method of fan-shaped outflanking to catch them all in one go"--Slote opened his fingers and drew a semicircle in mid-air--" Jews from Scandinavian countries, the Netherlands, Belgium, France, and then Italy and the Balkan countries were all swept into Poland and the Russian-occupied areas. The Red Cross and the press could not enter these places. The residents are far away. They are all backward areas, with inconvenient transportation, no news, and rampant anti-Semitism. However, sir, most of the Jews are already in the depression areas of Poland and Russia. This is the most important point. Even if you want to They wouldn't have to move very far if they did. Transporting Jews from Western Europe would never burden the railroads. There is no war in Western Europe." The envoy, smoking a cigar, stared at Slote with one good eye. "How are you going to verify the authenticity of this document?" "How do you think the appraisal is counted, sir?" "That's the problem. I don't believe in the goddam thing. I say the railroad problem is insurmountable. Well, I'm not telling you to forget about it. Get an appraisal if you can, and at the same time Do your best to keep this document safe." "It must be done, Your Excellency." "Doing your best to keep this document safe doesn't mean putting it in the hands of, say, an Associated Press reporter." Sloter's face was hot, and he replied: "I promise that no one will see it, unless you publish it." "okay then" Sloter returned to the office with the folder, feeling exhausted and devastated, not knowing what to do.Frustrated, he couldn't think about it all the time, his lips trembled, so he buried his head in reading official documents, and he didn't rest during lunch.About three o'clock a secretary poked his head in and asked, "Have you seen Dr. Gene Hussey?" "Of course I will." In came the Swiss diplomat, a decent, small, sad-faced man with a red goatee, who Sloter had known from his days in Warsaw.They sometimes played a game of chess, during which Hersey lamented, in Spenglerian terms, the mental bankruptcy of the Europeans. "Well, I've been to Siena, and I saw Natalie. Mrs. Henry," Hersey said, opening her briefcase. "It's a pretty woman, a Jew, isn't it?" "Yes, she is Jewish." "Oh!" He rolled his eyes to the side, stroked his beard, and at the same time pretended to be flirtatious and flirtatious. "I gave her your letter. Here's her reply." "Thank you, Gene. How about the other journalists?" "It's boring. Drunk all day. For that, I envy them. I'm going to report to your envoy. Judging by the progress of the negotiations, these reporters may be in March or April Come out." Slote locked the door, tore open the letter, and looked at the yellow sheets of paper at the window: Dear good Slote: Oh, what a delight to hear!I've hastened to type this letter while your kind Dr. Hussey was out having tea with Ellen in the Lemon Room. First to report to you that I am fine and so is Luis.Strange to say, we should live comfortably here.But when I think of the "Izmir", I am worried.We almost sailed on that ship, Leslie!A German diplomat who knew Ellen pulled us off the boat and drove us to Rome by car.I still don't know what his motives were, but he saved us from catastrophe, possibly from death.The BBC did not make much of what happened, but it appears that the Izmir disappeared after the Turks ordered it to leave Istanbul.What the hell happened to this ship?do you know?The news here is really blocked!I feel terrified when I think about it.What a world!I saved the baby, and I guess I should be relieved, but I keep thinking about those people. We saw the house intact.Remove the cloth covers from the furniture, spread the sheets on the bed, and light the fire.We just settled in.Maria and Tommaso went about their business exactly as usual.It was cold, but bright and pleasant once the morning mist cleared.The only people who remind us of the war are the ones who stay in the fancy restaurants and can't get out.They come here to eat, one or two at a time.The police are polite about it.Quite a number of journalists, family members, a singer, two priests—a queer bunch, bored to death, mostly stuffed and drunk with Tuscan wine, full of absurd and boring Grumble, but in good condition. Oh my God, I can't even begin to describe how happy I am to have your letter!As soon as Dr. Hussey came out of the room, I was crying.Life here is terribly lonely!And you, in Bern - so close, fighting for our freedom!I'm not out of breath yet! Alas, I can only say one thing at a time.I'd better hurry up and tell you what's on my mind the most. Slote, Ellen is thinking about it, and decides to stay here, war or not. The Archbishop and the Chief of Police were old friends of his, and they treated him like royalty in exile.To us, the odd thing is that it's all peacetime.Last Sunday, he was actually allowed to go to Bernard outside Florence.Berenson's mansion for dinner—did you know that Berenson was the American art critic who had been helped by a young man.Hey!Berenson actually told Ellen that he didn't want to leave.He's too old to move, and Italy is his home, and so on, and so on, and he'll stay and leave it to fate.Berenson was also a Jew—like Ellen, barely a Jew.Ellen came back with the same thoughts in her head.If Berenson can stay, why can't he?As for me, of course I was free to go home. Obediently! I said it, Bernard.Berenson had important, powerful social connections.He appraises famous paintings for billionaires, princes, national museums, and giants.He was most likely under the patronage of Mussolini.None of this mattered to Ellen at all.His boss grudgingly admits this.But he said he was too old.Italy is also his home.His rheumatism was getting worse (that's true).The long journey by train, and the transatlantic crossing, had probably worn him down, perhaps crippled him.He had already begun to write what he considered his most important book, the "last" of his series on Martin.Luther and the Reformation.The beginning of the book went off without a hitch, but it kept us both busy. But he obviously couldn't imagine what he'd be in if we were all gone.It was not easy for him to live alone in isolation from the world.If he fell ill, it would fall into the hands of hostile foreigners.He said Mussolini's declaration of war on the United States was a comedy to silence the Germans.He has something to say anyway. He's got a trick up his sleeve, and he's holding on to it contentedly, Leslie.It turned out that Ellen had had a small affair in her twenties, which ended in vain, during which time she had converted to Catholicism.Do you know about this?He quickly gave up, but never returned to his original beliefs, if at all.A friend of his in the Vatican had obtained a copy of his conversion to Catholicism in the United States and gave it to him.Ellen now uses these worthless photos as his talisman and shield.How bad luck he got these papers! You know he's familiar with the Nuremberg Decree.I don't know the exact content, but it is said that for German Jews, those who converted to religion before Hitler came to power in 1933 can be treated differently. Maybe this is only valid for half-Jewish people.Anyway, Ellen said he could handle the Italians; as for the Germans, well, with his precious conversion papers and his status as an American journalist, he wasn't worried.In a word, he had only a few years to live, and his only concern was writing, and he had the best conditions for writing here. I beg you to dissuade Ellen from this idea.Maybe he will listen to you.There was nothing more I could do with him.He apologized to me and tried every means to comfort me. He made me the heir to all his property and copyright.Ellen was a man of forethought and a rich man, big or small.But I was still annoyed with him, and terribly worried. I don't know why I'm bothering so much about Ellen.This is his life after all.In those years that passed by in vain, life was muddled, all I was worried about was making love, not making jokes (God, how young I was then!), and running to help him work just because I wanted to Get closer to you.I didn't know him at all then.Now my fate is closely related to his fate.My father passed away.My mother, not with me, not with me, not with me, thousands of miles away, playing canasta in Miami Beach and attending Hadassah meetings in spite of all the chaos.My uncle seemed to be my only relative next to Louis.Compared with Ellen, Byron himself is only a concept without flesh and blood, a glorious memory.I know you even better than I know the father of my own child. Ah chew.I heard the voices of Ellen and your Swiss friend, I must end this-- Good Slote, my dear, you can't imagine how good it is for me to know you are near me .You were a fool not to marry me when I offered to marry you in Paris.How much I loved you then!Things happen once and then they fade away and become the past, leaving a mark on you and changing you forever, people only need to know that sooner - come on, this hastily scribbled nonsense What is the use of language?My dear, please think of a way for Ellen! Attached photo, you can see that I am much thinner again, but at least I still have a smile on my face.Is Louis cute? Nasrut who loves you is sitting at the desk, staring at this snapshot, thinking of Selma'.Ascher was compared to this young woman in ordinary, homely clothes, with a beautiful doll in her arms.How thelma dwarfed her!Something was wrong with him, he thought.When you lose a lover, it should be like having a tooth pulled out. It hurts for a short while, and the cavity heals immediately after the pain settles.Everyone has been through this.But Natalie.Jastrow, though gone for ever, still captivated him like a sensual lady.Just looking at this letter gave him a feeling of both sweet and bitter.Oh, what passionate heartfelt words she had poured out to him on this yellow letterhead, on this Remington typewriter with the letter y worn out!Gone forever, the kind of love like fire like tea, the kind of great opportunity that comes once in a lifetime, all gone forever! Although it would have taken two weeks to send her a letter through diplomatic channels, he stopped work and wrote her a three-page reply.To Natalie.Henry pouring out his heart was a real pleasure in itself, if tinged with frustration.Then he wrote Jastrow a note admonishing him to cancel his plans to stay in Italy.He tore up a draft which referred to the "new material" on the Jewish catastrophe which had accidentally fallen into his hands.He didn't want Natalie to be frightened in vain.The minister told him to keep the documents secret until the authenticity of the document was verified, and this reprimand also made him feel deeply about Bian An. But how to verify the authenticity?