No doubt excited by the prospect that the world organization he had worked for might in fact be up and running in the relatively near future, FDR took a moment in the wake of Molotov’s announcement to engage in a brief exposition on the need for the forthcoming United Nations to turn its attention to economic development among the less well-off areas of the world. In an oblique reference to the proposed international conservation conference FDR had been exploring with Gifford Pinchot, FDR spoke of the tremendous impact that the reforestation of Persia might have on the social and economic well-being of the local inhabitants as one example. Persia had once been “well-wooded” and prosperous, he noted, with plenty of “surface water… and no soil erosion.” Now, however, thanks in large part to the loss of its timber, Persia had become “one of the poorest countries he had ever seen.” Having thus made the link between environmental degradation and poverty, FDR argued that one reason the United Nations should come into existence as soon as possible is so that a worldwide study could be made of how impoverished nations with no purchasing power could be enabled to get it.35
Much to FDR’s annoyance, however, Molotov’s proposals on the General Assembly led Churchill to embark on a long discourse about the importance he attached to seeing not only the Dominions but also India possessing a seat in the body. Churchill enthusiastically welcomed the Soviet proposal, specifically endorsing membership for Byelorussia, “bleeding from her wounds and conquering and beating down the tyrants.” Growing more emotional, the prime minister dismissed FDR’s suggestion that the foreign ministers take up the question, claiming they already had too much to do. He also criticized Roosevelt’s call for a United Nations planning conference in March, arguing that the “battle” for Europe would be at its height and that domestic issues in Britain would make it difficult for his nation’s ministers to concentrate on the proposed conference.36
Irritated over Churchill’s precipitous support for the Soviet position, FDR scribbled a note to Hopkins during Churchill’s harangue that said “All this is rot,” which he quickly crossed out and amended to say “local politics”—evidence of his suspicion that Churchill was worried about a possible election in Britain. FDR tried to calm Churchill by explaining that all he was suggesting was that the foreign ministers turn their attention to three simple questions: the Soviet proposal regarding membership, the date and location of the conference, and who should be invited. Churchill responded that he had no objection to the three foreign ministers discussing these points, so long as it was understood that these were not mere technical questions but matters of great moment.
Churchill’s sudden and quite unexpected rant about the world organization—which, as Alexander Cadogan noted, was “completely contrary to the line already agreed with the Americans” at Malta—did not go down well with the members of the US delegation. Nor was Anthony Eden pleased, seeing it as a consequence of Churchill’s reluctance to devote his attention to peacetime matters. This incident also represented the first public display of tension between Churchill and Roosevelt at the conference—a potential confrontation that, ironically, Stalin brought to a close by reminding his colleagues that the foreign ministers would not make decisions, but merely report back to the three leaders.37
Eden’s observations about the skill with which Stalin orchestrated the Yalta negotiations now came into full view as Molotov, after having proffered the Soviet concessions in the United Nations, now presented the proposal on Poland that Stalin had alluded to at the start of the plenary. This consisted of a six-point plan that included a reiteration of the Soviet call for the Curzon Line—with some minor adjustments—to serve as the eastern boundary of Poland; a recommendation that the Oder River and the Western Neisse River constitute the western frontier; and, most significantly, a series of provisions that called for the enlargement of the current Lublin regime to include “some democratic leaders from Polish émigré circles” as well as elections for a new permanent government as soon as possible. The fact that Moscow had finally placed the composition of the Lublin government on the table—with a specific reference to the inclusion of “democratic leaders”—was widely regarded by the Anglo-Americans as an important “step,” as FDR put it, “along the general plan we have been talking about.” But after noting his own dislike of the term émigré—which seemed to imply that there were no democratic representatives within Poland—FDR asked for further time to study the proposal and, at Hopkins’s recommendation, suggested they adjourn for the day.38
Stalin was quite happy to defer further discussion, but Churchill, who took even greater offense at the use of the word émigré, launched into a ringing defense of the Polish government-in-exile. This prompted an exasperated FDR to pencil a note to Stettinius saying “Now we are in for a ½ of it.” Churchill also raised objections to Molotov’s suggestion that Poland’s border with Germany be moved to the Western Neisse River, as “it would be a great pity to stuff the Polish Goose so full of Germans that it died of indigestion.” Furthermore, if the solution to this dilemma was to force the German population of East Prussia and Silesia to emigrate, it was the prime minister’s understanding that this would mean moving about 6 million people. This remark prompted a rather remarkable exchange about the consequences of the Allied decision to move Poland to the west. Stettinius speculated that the total number of people forced to move would be “four million,” while Eden interjected to say that, in fact, “including East Prussia,” it would be “six million four hundred thousand.” Stalin countered that “there will not be that many people… because where our troops come in they run away.”
Churchill, in response, said that Stalin’s observation “simplifies the problem. But one has to consider also where are those Germans who run away? Will there be room for them in what is left of Germany?”
Stalin said that the Red Army had already “killed six or seven million Germans and probably there will be another million or so killed before the end of the war.”
“I am not proposing we take any steps to stop it,” Churchill replied, “but I think there ought to be room… for the people transferred to Germany up to a certain point. So I am not afraid of this problem of transferring populations so long as it is proportioned to what can be properly managed. It requires study. Not as to a matter of principle, but as to the actual numbers to be transferred.”39
After Stalin nodded in agreement, Churchill closed the grim conversation by saying he agreed with the president that “we should sleep on” the question of Poland and speak about it tomorrow. “We are making progress in a difficult field.”40
Churchill may have been correct on this count, but so was Stalin in his assessment of the heavy German casualties to come. At the much-heralded first meeting of the three nations’ Chiefs of Staff earlier that week, the Soviets pressed the Anglo-Americans to do all they could to disrupt the potential movement of German reinforcements from the west to the east. The Anglo-Americans decided to strike at German lines of communication by bombing the cities of Berlin, Leipzig, and Dresden. Just two days after the Yalta conference ended, over 1,300 British and American heavy bombers dropped nearly 4,000 tons of high-explosive and incendiary bombs on Dresden, creating a firestorm of unprecedented proportions that all but destroyed 13 square miles of the once-magnificent medieval city and incinerated more than 25,000 men, women, and children.41
AT DINNER THAT NIGHT, THE FOURTH EVENING MEAL OF THE CONFERENCE, FDR and Stettinius agreed that it had been “a most fruitful day,” during which they had come one “step further along the difficult path to a world organization.” As their conversation turned to the composition of the United Nations, FDR conjectured that “there would be approximately fifty seats in the assembly.” He wondered “what practical difference it would make to the success or failure of the Assembly for the Soviet Union to have two additional seats to represent its vast population and territory”—particularly when “the actual power would rest in the Security Council” and “each country in this body,
large or small, would have only one vote.” Although he did not say it out loud, it was clear that FDR’s formerly strong opposition to the inclusion of some of the Soviet Republics in the United Nations was softening, especially now that the realization of the proposed world organization was so close at hand.42
It was also clear, as FDR’s conversation with Stettinius stretched into the night, that the pace of the conference—including “the grueling five-hour [plenary] session” held earlier that day—was taking a toll on him. No one was more aware of this than Anna, who, despite the progress the American delegation seemed to be making on the issues she knew were closest to her father’s heart, could not help but dwell on her concerns in a letter she wrote to her husband that evening.
After inquiring about their children and offering some impressions of the largely destroyed city of Sevastopol, which she had visited that afternoon, she wrote about the “OM,” or “old man,” or “Oscar Meyer,” as she frequently referred to her father in her correspondence:
Just between you and me, we are having to watch [the] OM very carefully from the physical standpoints. He gets all wound up, seems to thoroughly enjoy it all, but wants too many people around, and then won’t go to bed early enough. The result is that he doesn’t sleep well. Ross and Bruenn are both worried because of the old “ticker” trouble—which of course no one knows about but those two and me. I am working closely with Ross and Bruenn, and am using all the ingenuity and tact that I can muster to try and separate the wheat from the chaff—to keep unnecessary people out of OM’s room and to steer the necessary ones in at the best times. This is actually taking place at the conference, so that I will know who should and who should not see OM. I have found out through Bruenn (who won’t let me tell Ross that I know) that his “ticker” situation is far more serious than I ever knew. And the biggest difficulty in handling the situation here is that we can, of course, tell no one of the “ticker” trouble. It’s truly worrisome—and there’s not a helluva lot anyone can do about it.
Anna then wrote, in words that thankfully were not heeded by her husband, “Better tear off and destroy this paragraph.”43
Chapter 8
The Birth of the United Nations
FEBRUARY 8, 1945, WAS A DAY OF GREAT ACCOMPLISHMENT AND GREAT frustration for FDR. In many respects the United Nations was born that Thursday, as by the time the plenary session opened at 4:15 p.m., the president had made up his mind to support the Kremlin’s request for the Soviet Republics of Byelorussia and Ukraine to join the General Assembly. Though the process by which the two republics would be admitted had yet to be determined, this agreement removed the last major obstacle to the establishment of the United Nations.
Just what led FDR to back down on an issue he felt so strongly about before he left for Yalta is not entirely clear. That the Soviets decided to embrace the US voting formula, and to lower the number of client states they hoped to have admitted to the General Assembly from sixteen to two, certainly played a role. Moreover, Churchill strongly supported the Soviet position, due in part to his desire to see the Dominions and India represented in the Assembly. FDR was reluctant to go against the prime minister in this case, even if his vision for the postwar world did not include the perpetuation of imperialism, British or otherwise.1
February 8 was also the day that FDR secured Stalin’s agreement to enter the war against Japan, although the formal terms of that understanding would not be signed until the last day of the conference. The day’s frustration came from the intractable problem of Poland, which FDR found more and more troubling.
For the US delegation, the first order of business that morning was to circulate an American counterproposal to the six-point plan on the Polish question that Foreign Minister Molotov offered the day before. Drafted largely by Charles Bohlen and approved by FDR, this document reiterated the American demand for the creation of a new government in Poland through a Presidential Council of three individuals drawn both from the Lublin regime and from democratic elements within Poland and abroad. The Presidential Council would hold elections for a constituent assembly, which, in turn, would draft a constitution. Following this would be a general election and the establishment of a permanent government. The US counterproposal also called upon the three powers to recognize the proposed provisional government and indicated American acceptance of the Curzon Line as the eastern boundary of Poland. It rejected, however, the western frontier that Molotov’s document had put forward. The British also drew up and circulated a counterproposal that morning. Although the two plans were similar in that the British proposal likewise called for replacement of the Lublin regime, in this case by a Regency, FDR’s preference for a unilateral American approach to the Soviets weakened the overall Anglo-American effort.2
In the meantime, Stettinius asked Dr. McIntire for his opinion on whether former Secretary of State Cordell Hull, who was recovering from exhaustion and remained hospitalized in Bethesda, Maryland, would be well enough to chair the founding UN conference. Given Hull’s age and frail health, McIntire advised against it and suggested instead that the president appoint Hull as senior adviser to the American delegation—an ironic response, coming from a man who had done nothing to discourage an unwell FDR from running for a fourth term or from traveling halfway around the world to meet with Churchill and Stalin.3
Stettinius then went to see Hopkins, another desperately ill figure who, aside from his attendance at the plenary sessions, and an occasional luncheon, was more or less confined to his bed. Harriman, Bohlen, and Byrnes joined them for this discussion. Here, the five men, reflecting the cautiously optimistic mood that prevailed within the American delegation that morning, discussed the preparation of a draft communiqué about the proposed UN conference in anticipation of a final settlement.
FDR remained in his quarters that morning, to take some quiet time to rest and prepare for his midafternoon meeting with Stalin, where the two men, accompanied by Foreign Minister Molotov and Ambassador Harriman, planned to discuss the proposed Soviet entry into the war against Japan. Not far away, while the president worked and sun broke through a bank of misty clouds over the sea, a small group of Russian peasant women gathered in the little stone market square that stood at the center of the village of Yalta to ply their wares. Aside from a few crumpled and old paperbound books, however, and some “dried half-pumpkins” and a few strange-looking half-bottles of yellow oil, there was little to buy, as Valentine Lawson, Anthony Eden’s private secretary observed while out for an early morning walk. “God only knows,” he mused, “what these wretched people live on.” Still, the morning was fresh and invigorating, and Lawson could not help but notice their friendly stares as he took a few precious moments to get away from the conference and feel what it was like “to be alone in Russia” before he hastily headed back to join his colleagues in their efforts to shape the world to follow.4
SECURING SOVIET PARTICIPATION IN THE STRUGGLE AGAINST THE JAPANESE was one of FDR’s main objectives at Yalta. FDR’s top military advisers believed that the final defeat of Japan was going to be an enormously difficult undertaking, requiring an invasion of the Japanese Home Islands (which would take a minimum of eighteen months) and potentially costing the United States hundreds of thousands of casualties. Moreover, the United States had little faith in China’s military capabilities; better, FDR’s advisers thought, to encourage the Soviets to attack Japanese forces in Manchuria, which would have the effect of tying down large numbers of Japanese troops on the mainland when the final American assault on Japan began.
The first formal indication that the Soviet Union might join the war against Japan came at the Moscow Conference of Foreign Ministers in 1943. Shortly thereafter, at Tehran, Stalin assured FDR that he would open up a new front in Asia. But it was not until mid-December 1944 that Stalin, in response to a direct request from Roosevelt, finally put his terms on the table. In conversation with Harriman, he “brought out a map” and, pointing to the territory Russia lost in
its 1905 war with Japan, said that Lower Sakhalin Island would have to be returned to Russian control. He wanted to annex the Kurile Islands, he argued, as “at present the Japanese controlled all of the approaches to the important port of Vladivostok.” Stalin then brought up three additional issues—the lease of ports on the Liaotung Peninsula, the lease of the Chinese Eastern Railway, and the maintenance of the status quo in Outer Mongolia. All of these demands foreshadowed the agreement that was ultimately signed on the last day of the Yalta conference.5
Because these earlier talks had gone into such detail, the discussions between FDR and Stalin on February 8 amounted to little more than a chance for the two of them to put their seal of approval on a prior understanding. The one new item involved FDR’s desire to secure Soviet support for the Nationalist regime in China. Here, taking note of his expectations about the final defeat of Japan and the establishment of international trusteeships after the war, FDR observed that the arrival of US forces in Manila meant that the war in the Pacific had entered a new phase. Thus “the time had come to make new plans for [the] additional bombing of Japan.” Indeed, he “hoped that it might not actually be necessary to invade the Japanese Islands,” as it may well be possible to “destroy Japan” and the “4,000,000 men in their army… by intensive bombing,” which would “save American lives.” The United States, he insisted, would invade Japan only if it were “absolutely necessary.”6
Although FDR made no reference to the development of the atomic bomb, this argument in favor of bombing suggests that he may have had the new weapon in mind. He knew from his conversations with Secretary Henry Stimson and Lieutenant General Leslie Groves at the end of December 1944 that the weapon was projected to be ready by early August. Yet he may have simply been referring to the US Army Air Force’s strategic bombing campaign against the Japanese Home Islands, which started in late November 1944. These raids—carried out by B-29 Super Fortresses dropping the Air Force’s first incendiary cluster bombs—would intensify in the coming months.
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