Presidential Mission

by Upton Sinclair

  Professor Aboulker was President of the Jewish Federation of Algeria and also a professor of medicine at the university; he was allowed to continue at this post because he was a wounded veteran, and therefore was exempt from the laws which excluded Jews from the professions. Prominent also in the movement were Aboulker’s sons, the sons’ cousins, and a couturier by the name of Cohen, who in business used the name Elie Calvet; short, dark, and energetic, he owned a dressmaking establishment in Paris, and had shops in the four principal cities of French North Africa where he sold his products. So far he had been able to hold onto the business; he was counting the days before he would have it safe under American protection.

  Denis, wearing civilian clothes, could slip up to Lanny’s hotel room without attracting attention. He was in touch with the French officers, and reported that Admiral Darlan had arrived unexpectedly in Algiers. The stocky commander of both Navy and Army forces—under Pétain, but no one else—had made an inspection trip throughout North Africa, including Dakar, which all Vichy now expected to be attacked. He had returned to Vichy, but because of the serious illness of his son he had been flown back to Algiers. Lanny wondered, had he been “tipped off” to what was coming? Denis didn’t think that was the case.

  Another item of information: the Americans were planning to use General Giraud in their efforts to avoid bloodshed here. This aged hero of both world wars had escaped from a German fortress into Vichy France; then he had gone to the Riviera, and from there had been taken in a submarine to Gibraltar. As soon as the Americans were ashore he would be flown to Algiers, and would invite the French to accept him as their leader. “Will they do it?” Lanny asked; and the reply was: “It seems to me a bad guess.”

  Lanny didn’t ask any further, for he knew that Denis, a Gaullist, would not accept anybody but his Joan of Arc. The capitaine was greatly upset because the Americans were not bringing De Gaulle from London; but when Lanny pinned him down he admitted that the tall radio orator had very little following in North Africa, and that most of the French military regarded him as a British tool. Lanny considered De Gaulle a Jesuit imperialist, but all he could say was: “You know, Denis, I am no politician, and I’m not in the confidence of our military men. I can only guess their attitude, that they will do anything on earth to avoid having to shed French blood. Whoever can best help them in that may become civil governor of French Africa.”

  VI

  The actors in the coup for Algiers were for the most part the Chantiers de la Jeunesse, and they were preparing to make good the jest that Robert Murphy would take Algiers with the boy scouts. These youths—up to the age of eighteen—had been provided with American small arms and had buried them. Now they were told to dig them up and to report at their assembly places at eleven o’clock on Saturday night. Lanny went out to see the show, and discovered that the people of this “African Paris” were enjoying themselves after the fashion of all Mediterranean peoples, who turn night into day as far as they can. The radio had reported an immense Allied convoy, first leaving Gibraltar, and then moving eastward through the middle of the Mediterranean, the established route to Malta and the strait of Sicily. It was assumed that this meant another effort to reinforce the most bomb-battered spot in the world. No one could observe in the darkness that this convoy, due north of Algiers, made a right-angled turn to starboard and was now heading straight for the city, whose harbor and beaches had been photographed and reproduced in replica and studied until everyone on board knew them as well as he knew his own back yard.

  The band was playing in the park down by the waterfront, and the Rue Michelet, the principal street, was thronged with sightseers. All the shops were open, and there were lines in front of the movie houses; American pictures were barred, of course, but the crowds took what they could get. Here, as all over the world, any movie was better than no movie. Groups of the Chantiers in their green trousers strolled past, but nobody paid any special attention to them.

  H-hour was one in the morning. At that time the ships were supposed to be as close to the shore as possible, the landing craft launched, the men on board, and the craft with engines idling, ready on the second to begin the race to the shore. Ten thousand men were coming, not into the harbor, but to beaches just west of the city; they would march in by the roads. Some of the conspirators were at the beaches, ready to welcome them and guide them in; others were in front of all the important points of the city: the post office, which contained the telegraph and telephone offices; the power stations, the radio stations, the Préfecture de Police. They were to hold these and permit nobody to come or go until the American forces arrived.

  Lanny stood in the crowd outside this last all-important place and watched what was happening. He learned once more the lesson that events of historic moment are frequently poor shows to the spectator. He watched, and nothing happened, except that young men with revolvers in their hands stood in the doorway, looking very solemn and determined. He did not learn until later that inside the building the chief of the secret police was down on his knees, trembling and pleading with tears in his eyes that he should not be shot. He well knew what he deserved to get from anti-Fascists and Jews. All kinds of political opinions were represented in these groups, but they all hated Germans and friends of Germans.

  Lanny strolled from one place to another, and realized that the whole city was in the hands of the pro-Allies. Planes flew close overhead, and showers of leaflets came fluttering down; Lanny picked one up and found that it had the American flag on it, but was printed in Arabic. Shortly afterward he stood in a crowd and listened while a man read aloud one that was printed in French; it was a proclamation by General Giraud, calling upon the Army to make no resistance to their American allies.

  A little later the P.A. had the strange experience, while walking on the Rue Michelet, of hearing from an open café the sound of a familiar voice, booming with tremendous volume from a radio set. All activity had come to a halt, and the Algerians listened to Franklin D. Roosevelt, assuring them in careful college French that the sole purpose of the American Army was “to liberate France and the French Empire from the Axis yoke” and to “bring about the early destruction of our common enemy.” This was from a recording, and Lanny heard it more than once during the next days. He also heard an address by General Eisenhower. That, too, sounded strangely familiar, and he realized that it was a voice he had heard from the underbrush near Cherchell. It was Colonel Julius Holmes, doubling for his overworked commander!

  But where were the Americans? He was told later that there had been a mistake, and that in the darkness the landing craft had hit some beaches farther away from town. Maybe that was true; anyhow, some of the officials who hadn’t been caught in the coup had warned the French troops in the suburbs, and these troops now came rushing in with motor transport. In the next hour or two several of the pro-Allied groups were under siege in the buildings they had taken. They were outnumbered, and the troops had artillery, so a few of the insurgents were killed and others had to surrender.

  So much for amateur war-making! It wasn’t quite as bad as it appeared that morning, but Lanny was greatly upset. There was nothing he could do about it, of course. He had been told that the people at the consulate had been burning confidential records and codebooks all day Friday and Saturday, as a precaution against just such a mishap. Sooner or later the Army would get here, and if there was fighting to be done, the Army would know how to do it. Meantime the one clear duty of a P.A. was to keep out of sight and out of range.

  VII

  An exhausted art expert went back to his hotel and fell asleep to the sound of several kinds of gun fire. That was just before dawn, and he slept for two or three hours. He was awakened by a tap upon his door, and when he opened it, there was Denis de Bruyne, haggard, red-eyed, and in a terrible state of depression. He had been in the battle at the Préfecture, and had made his escape by jumping out of a back window. Since then he had been roaming the streets, not daring to go to hi
s home. So many of his friends were in the hands of the enemy, the Vichy gangsters, and Denis could see no possibility save that they would all be shot.

  Lanny brought him inside and locked the door, and they discussed the situation in low tones. Lanny didn’t think it could be as bad as his friend feared. “They know the Americans are coming, Denis.”

  “But where are the Americans?” burst out the other.

  “You haven’t seen any of them?”

  “Nobody has seen them that I can find out. They are shooting some guns, but they don’t march.”

  “You may be sure they have their orders, Denis. Their first objectives would be the airports, and the installations of heavy guns. As a military man, you know that they would make certain of such objectives before they started marching down a city boulevard at night.”

  “That may be true; but then, they should not have told us to go into action at midnight.”

  “Murphy told you; and Murphy is not a military man. The commanders will necessarily be guided by what they find ashore. I thought I heard shooting from the direction of Maison Blanche.” This was the larger of the two airports of Algiers.

  “I heard it also from the Blida airport. I suppose the defenders would have to fire a few volleys to satisfy their sense of honor.”

  “How many Americans do you think they will have to kill in order to satisfy their honor, Denis?”

  It was an unkind question. The capitaine, in a state of extreme exhaustion, made no attempt to wipe away the tears which welled into his eyes. “Lanny, you know how I feel about it. I am in despair, because I am so impotent. Several times I have been on the verge of going to the authorities and pleading with them. Every decent Frenchman has a love for America buried somewhere in his heart, ever since your war with England when we helped you in good friendship. But these Vichy people have the hearts of rats, and they would probably throw me into jail.”

  “Whom did you think of going to, Denis?”

  “To Darlan.”

  “Darlan!” echoed the astonished P.A. “Of all men!”

  “He is the one who can prevent a war, or stop it if it has started.”

  “You don’t think Giraud can do it?”

  “Not a chance in this world. I have talked about him with scores of our officers, and they all say they would pay no attention to him.”

  “And Juin cannot control them?”

  “Juin would never dare to give an order contrary to Darlan’s. Darlan is his superior.”

  “It goes entirely by rank, then?”

  “It goes by rank in every army, Lanny. If a man defies his superior officer, he is a mutineer and he is shot.”

  “But you, Denis, you are a Gaullist! Is that mutiny?”

  “It is revolution, at least, and De Gaulle would be shot by the Vichy crowd if they could get him.”

  “He would be shot by Darlan, would he not?”

  “Certainly.”

  “And yet you would appeal to Darlan!”

  “I would be appealing for the Americans, Lanny. You don’t have to deal with the question of French legitimacy, you only have to consider American lives and how to save them. What I am trying to do is to save the lives of those Chantiers who are now in the hands of the Garde Mobile. Tomorrow may be too late.”

  “You understand, Denis, if we were to make terms with Darlan he would certainly demand control. He would remain at the head of the French Army and might even dominate the civil government.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about any of that. Once the Americans have their armies in here and are firmly settled, they could give orders to Darlan, and if he didn’t obey them they could kick him out.”

  Lanny found this one of the strangest developments in this complexity of greeds and jealousies and fears. A fighting Gaullist recommending one of the fighting Vichyites! But when he voiced this, Denis exclaimed: “Darlan is not for Vichy. Darlan is for Darlan! If you brought him such an offer, he would think of just one thing, what forces you were bringing and what chance you had of staying. If you stay, and he is against you, he is a prisoner of war; but if he helps you, he becomes the governor of an immense province, and perhaps—who can say?—of all France.”

  “And you are willing to take that chance?”

  “What I wanted, Lanny, was for you to bring General de Gaulle here with your armies and put him in authority. But for some reason your President does not understand our great General and does not trust him. Even so, I trust your President. If the selfish and cynical Darlan can bring it about that the American Army will fight Germans instead of Frenchmen—all right, I am willing, and I will take my chances that in the end the people of France will be permitted to decide who shall govern them. I know that will be De Gaulle!”

  The P.A. thought that over for a while, and then said: “I’ll go and talk with Robert Murphy.” He bade his friend to lock himself in this room and have a sleep. Lanny would hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign outside the door and Denis would be all right, even with the headquarters of French Naval Intelligence in this same hotel!

  VIII

  The P.A. went out on the streets of Algiers on a beautiful Sunday morning. The European shops were closed, but you couldn’t exactly say that it was quiet, with guns large and small going off at the harbor and now and then in the suburbs. Crowds of people, both white and brown, had come out to see what was happening, and there were swarms of soldiers of the Garde Mobile. Lanny observed that they were still besieging the post office, which had refused to surrender. A small British war vessel had forced its way in during the night, and some sixty men had been killed. Then, coming up from the harbor, he saw the first of the long-awaited American troops, a company of commando men, making their toilsome way up one of the steep streets. All of them were heavily camouflaged, with hands and faces black except around the eyes. The Moors stared at them in wonder, no doubt taking them for some new and strange kind of savages.

  Soon afterward Lanny saw a column of infantry marching in from the west. They had had difficulty in getting ashore in rough water, and they looked exhausted after a long march with heavy packs. They plodded along, manifesting little interest in the sights of a strange city. Few cheered them, for who could know if it was safe to do so? Frenchmen remembered Dieppe, and before that St. Nazaire. High and low had the same idea: better to wait and see how things turned out!

  Lanny went to the home of Professor Aboulker; he found nobody there except one American official who had imbibed too heavily amid the excitement of the night and had passed out. There was an American soldier guarding him, and claiming to have been the first soldier to enter the city. Lanny used the telephone to call the Counselor’s home, but Murphy wasn’t there; he tried the British Consulate, which was opposite the Admiralty building, but Murphy wasn’t at that place either. Lanny spent a lot of time looking for him; and in that time he saw three Allied planes bombing targets in the harbor, and large fires starting up. It was all very confusing to him, and even more so to other people. Certainly that was true of the G.I.’s with whom he chatted as they rested in the park. “Some frog soldiers give us wine, some give us black looks, and some shoot at us. Tell me, Mister, is this a war or what is it?”

  IX

  Toward noon Lanny decided to see what was going on at the Préfecture, so he strolled on the Boulevard Boudin. There he happened to see a parked automobile which he recognized—there were few but official cars out on this dangerous day. He waited, and presently from the building came Vice-Consul Pendar, a Harvard man whom Lanny had met at a social affair, and with whom he had got along very well because of Pendar’s interest in art. Now Lanny greeted him, saying: “How are things going?” The answer was: “I would tell you if I knew.” When Lanny said that he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, the vice-consul replied that it appeared to be mostly tail and very little head.

  Lanny explained that he had been trying to get in touch with Murphy, and the other’s response took him by surprise: “Murphy is a prisoner of Ge
neral Juin.”

  “Prisoner!” Lanny exclaimed. “In heaven’s name!”

  “Don’t take it too seriously. The town is a madhouse. When the French think that our troops are delaying they arrest us, and when they hear that our troops are ashore they turn us loose, and we arrest them for a change. I myself have been arrested three times since midnight. Just now I have a pass from Commandant d’Orange, Juin’s aide-de-camp, but I don’t know how long it will be good.”

  When Lanny said that he had a message for the Counselor that might be important, the other said: “Why not telephone him at Juin’s villa?” When Lanny expressed surprise at this suggestion, he was told that the diplomatic head was busily carrying on negotiations, just as Juin had been carrying on negotiations while he was Murphy’s prisoner. An odd melodrama indeed!

  The vice-consul explained that he couldn’t stop for a chat as he was on an important errand. “You might ride with me if you like. I’ll be seeing Murphy in the next hour or two, if that’s not too late.”

  Lanny stepped into the car, and as he drove Pendar explained the errand on which he had been hurrying about town; he was trying to find Admiral Battet, who had been taken prisoner by the insurgents during the night. “Battet is Darlan’s friend and adviser,” said the vice-consul, “and Darlan refuses to negotiate without him.”

  “Oh! You are negotiating with Darlan?” inquired the P.A.

  “Naturally. He is in our hands and he knows it. At least, he’s coming to know it.”

  Lanny didn’t say: “That is what I wanted to talk to Murphy about.” He had long ago learned to let the other fellow talk when the other fellow was willing. Said he: “Do you think that the Admiral came to Algiers for that purpose?”