The Last 100 Days

by David B. Woolner

  It is also important to note the underlying assumptions upon which the Yalta accords were based. The first is that maintaining cooperation with the Soviet Union was regarded as a military imperative among FDR’s senior military advisers. In the wake of the Ardennes crisis, no one in Washington believed that the final defeat of Germany was going to be easy—and based on American experiences in the Pacific, victory over Japan was going to be an equally daunting task. Second, both Churchill and Roosevelt felt that Stalin was a man with whom they could do business. The point here is not that negotiating with the Soviets was easy but, rather, that once an agreement had been reached, both Churchill and Roosevelt anticipated that the Soviets would work toward its reasonable fulfillment. As Churchill remarked to one of his aides less than two weeks after the Yalta conference: “Poor Neville Chamberlain believed he could trust Hitler. He was wrong. But I don’t think I am wrong about Stalin.”13 A second important assumption was that Stalin had more or less abandoned the Bolshevik ideology of world revolution in favor of a more pragmatic form of socialism that was focused on internal development. Stalin’s “Socialism in One Country” was one manifestation of this trend; another was his much-noticed decision to close the Comintern in May 1943, a move that was interpreted in the West as a clear sign that international cooperation rather than class war had become the Soviet method for securing the peace. Overall, these moves, especially when coupled with Stalin’s promotion of the “Great Patriotic War” in the fall of 1943, made him seem more the heir of Peter the Great than of Vladimir Lenin, and the Soviet state as something akin to traditional continental power.14

  Left unsaid, but clearly evident at Yalta and in the October 1944 percentages agreement that Churchill negotiated with Stalin, was a fourth assumption: that both FDR and Churchill were quite willing to grant the Soviet Union what is traditionally called “a sphere of influence” in Eastern Europe. FDR was of course loath to use this phrase, as it was often derided in the American press and in official Washington circles as another term for imperialism. Where the three leaders fell out is over the definition of the phrase. Roosevelt’s interpretation of this concept was more akin to the so-called Open Door policy that the United States pursued in China. As such, Poland and Eastern Europe might fall under a Soviet sphere of influence, particularly in matters of security, but Soviet control would not be exclusive; it would be an open sphere, reasonably accessible to a degree of American trade and ideas. Churchill more or less concurred with this view, so long as these concepts did not interfere with his own government’s ascendency in areas he regarded as falling under British influence. Stalin’s paranoia and obsession with security militated against these notions, however. He was never able to rid himself of the fear that the Anglo-Americans might sign a separate peace with Hitler—best exemplified in his mind by what he saw as the Anglo-American delay in opening a second front. Having survived three and a half brutal years of war and turned the Nazi tide on its own, he firmly believed that the Soviet Union must provide for its own postwar security—and the biggest threat to that security remained Germany.15 His failure to obtain a firm allied commitment to the breakup of the German state after the war, particularly when coupled with the knowledge that the United States was determined not to maintain a long-term military presence in Europe, rendered a compliant Poland, as he said to Churchill, a matter of national preservation.

  The final assumption that must be taken into account if we are to understand the full dimensions of FDR’s decision-making is perhaps best captured in his response to Admiral Leahy’s famous remark that the agreement over Poland was so elastic “that the Russians could stretch it all the way from Moscow to Washington without ever breaking it.” “I know Bill,” FDR replied, “but it is the best I could do for Poland at this time.”16 As this remark indicates, FDR saw Yalta as but one step in a much longer process that he expected to continue in the months and years ahead. That FDR remained focused on his long-term objectives becomes even clearer when we consider that it was just when the discussions over Poland were reaching their climax that he introduced the Declaration of Liberated Europe. This proclamation, much like the statement on Poland, has been dismissed as a laudable but largely ineffectual edict that, owing to Soviet modifications at Yalta, could not enforce its major claim to guarantee “the right of all people to choose the form of government under which they will live.” But much like the Atlantic Charter (which is mentioned not once but twice in the document), the Declaration of Liberated Europe was viewed by FDR as an inspirational promulgation—as an attempt to “frame the issues.” As he put it to the Soviet premier during the plenary session that took place on the afternoon of Friday, February 9, 1945, he regarded the elections in Poland as the “first example” of how the Declaration of Liberated Europe would operate. “I want this election in Poland… to be beyond question,” he said. “I don’t want the Poles to be able to question [it]. The matter is not only one of principle, but also of practical politics.”17 He also cautioned his Russian colleagues that when it came to subsequent events in Poland, Stettinius would “feel free to make any statement he felt necessary relative to the fact that the American Ambassador would investigate and report to him about the conduct of the elections.”18

  FDR and Stettinius next brought up the highly sensitive issue of trusteeships, a firm indication that the president was concerned with more than just keeping future Soviet conduct within the frame of the Declaration. Churchill exploded in a “white heat” at this, insisting that the provisions in the Declaration of Liberated Europe referring to the Atlantic Charter did not apply to the British Empire. This had been the understanding that he and FDR had agreed to in August 1941, when the Charter was first drafted, and that he had articulated later in the House of Commons. Churchill added that he had reiterated all of this to Wendell Willkie during the latter’s last visit to London, before Willkie suddenly died of a heart attack—to which FDR sardonically replied, to much laughter, “Was that what killed him?”19

  Stettinius elaborated, in response, that neither the Declaration nor the proposal to open a discussion of trusteeships among the five permanent members of the Security Council in advance of the San Francisco meeting was meant to infringe upon the prerogatives of the British Empire. This was not exactly true. To FDR, Yalta was not fundamentally about the divisions of East and West—as it is so often interpreted today—but rather about the emergence of the “new world” in place of the “old.” Indeed, FDR’s hostility toward colonialism was at least as strong as his antipathy toward Soviet totalitarianism. And based on the assumptions that he and many of his colleagues held about the nature of the Soviet state, he viewed the USSR as essentially a continental power that, unlike its European neighbors, did not have colonial ambitions. Thus FDR saw Russia as a potential partner in his drive to build a “new world,” a belief that inspired not only his negotiations with Stalin over Russia’s role in the final stages of the war against Japan but also his approach to questions about postwar Europe.20

  FDR’s ultimate goal was to rally world opinion around a universal set of values supported by a universalist organization that would spell the end of colonialism and the eventual rise of democratic states in Eastern Europe, Asia, and other parts of the world. FDR was no fool. He understood that much would depend on the degree to which the Soviets and the British adhered to the understandings achieved at Yalta. But he also saw that if he did not affix a reiteration of the values articulated in the Four Freedoms and the Atlantic Charter to the overall purposes of the Yalta conference, the people of the United States—and much of the rest of the world—might lose faith in the grand purposes for which they had sacrificed so much over six long years of war.

  THANKS TO FDR’S IMPENDING DEPARTURE, AND TO THE PROTRACTED discussions over Poland that had consumed so much of the delegations’ time and energy, both Churchill and Stalin felt a certain sense of urgency as attention was finally directed to other matters at the plenary session that continued on the aft
ernoon of Saturday, February 10. As was obvious to all concerned, it would be impossible to both deal with the number of issues still left on the table and draft the final conference communiqué in the hours that remained. Yet FDR remained adamant that he must leave by 3:00 p.m. the next day. One solution, suggested by Stalin, was to cancel the dinner that Churchill had planned for that evening so that the three leaders could continue working. Another, far more agreeable, was to set up an immediate committee of senior aides who would draw up a draft communiqué that would then be presented to the three leaders at 10:00 that evening. After some discussion, the latter solution was adopted. In addition, FDR agreed to hold an extra plenary session at noon the next day, followed by a luncheon that he would host.21

  Having determined the schedule for the next twenty-four hours, the three leaders then pressed ahead with their discussions on the remaining issues that required either agreement or, at the very least, further deliberation. These included the final draft of the protocol that FDR and Stalin had negotiated over the Soviet entry into the war against Japan, an inconclusive discussion on oil concessions and the withdrawal of Allied troops from Iran, an attempt by Churchill to secure a more concrete understanding with Stalin on Yugoslavia, and the question of reparations.22

  In the end, only the first issue would reach the status of a full agreement. As expected, the United States agreed to support Stalin’s territorial claims in the Far East, while Stalin expressed his willingness to sign “a pact of friendship and alliance” with the Nationalist government of China. Stalin also agreed to render assistance in its efforts to liberate the country from Japan. FDR was tasked with the responsibility of securing the concurrence of Chiang Kai-shek, who, for the time being, would have to be kept in the dark given the military necessity of keeping the Russian decision to declare war on Japan secret.

  Ironically, given all of the attention the issue had received during the Foreign Ministers meetings, the reparations question dragged on until virtually the last minute of the conference. At issue was the exact figure. Over the course of the week, the Soviets provided evidence to support their claim for $10 billion out of a total of $20 billion to be extracted from Germany. But the British continued to refuse to endorse a specific number. When Churchill said as much in the plenary meeting that day, an enraged Stalin rose from his chair and said with great emphasis, “If the British felt that the Russians should receive no reparations at all they should say so.” Churchill empathically denied that this was the case.23

  This deadlock was broken at the formal dinner hosted by Churchill that night, when the prime minister suddenly agreed to accept a proposal that Stalin had put forward that afternoon. It entailed, first, that the parties should agree in principle that Germany should pay reparations and, second, that the Reparations Commission that was to be established in Moscow should determine the final amount, using $20 billion as the basis for discussion, with 50 percent of the final determination going to the Soviet Union.24 Having achieved a compromise, the three leaders enjoyed a more harmonious final dinner at the Yalta conference. As usual, there were many toasts and much good cheer. FDR seemed to take special delight in ribbing Churchill about the president’s impending trip to the Middle East to see the kings of Egypt, Ethiopia, and Saudi Arabia. But as the evening wore on, Churchill could not help but notice that FDR looked quite tired.

  THE FINAL MORNING OF FDR’S FINAL SUMMIT SAW THE RETURN OF the sun over the Crimea, or what the Russians by this point were calling “Roosevelt weather.” Following breakfast, FDR and Anna managed to get in some last-minute sightseeing, taking a thirty-minute tour of the palace grounds in an open jeep so that FDR could observe the remarkable gardens, always a matter of deep interest to him. They then returned to the Livadia for the final plenary meeting and luncheon of the Yalta conference.

  Both the meeting and the meal were held in the president’s dining room, and the two more or less merged into one long session. The focus was on the wording of the final communiqué that would be released after the conference. Most of the changes made during this session were stylistic, including Churchill’s insistence that the word joint be struck from the text at every turn—as in England it would invariably raise the specter of “the Sunday family roast of mutton.”25

  Finally, at 3:45 that afternoon, the communiqué was done. FDR, Churchill, and Stalin turned over the edited draft to the three foreign ministers and their staffs for polishing and release. The three leaders also provided their signatures on three blank sheets of paper, so that these could be affixed to the final document.26

  After the formal adjournment, FDR bade farewell to Churchill, who left the Livadia immediately. He then took a few moments to thank Stalin again for his hospitality, and to present the Soviet leader with Legion of Merit medals awarded by the government of the United States to senior members of the Russian military. Stalin reciprocated with a series of gifts and packages for the president and his party, including several types of wine and champagne, caviar, butter, oranges, tangerines, and, of course, much vodka.

  With that, the two men shook hands one last time, and less than ten minutes after Stalin had taken his leave, FDR was wheeled out to a waiting car, to be driven along the coast of the Black Sea for the last time. The Yalta conference was over. It was time now for FDR to journey to Egypt and his much-anticipated rendezvous with the “three kings.”

  Chapter 10

  The Last Mission

  THE CITY OF SEVASTOPOL, WHICH LIES SOME EIGHTY MILES TO THE west of Yalta, earned much of its fame during a siege that took place at the height of the Crimean War in the mid-nineteenth century. As was the case with Valletta, on Malta, World War II brought a second great siege to Sevastopol, as German forces in their initial drive to conquer Russia swept across the Ukraine and into the Crimea in the fall of 1941. By mid-November the entire peninsula, with the exception of the city, was in German hands.

  Owing to Sevastopol’s strategic significance as an important naval base and as the headquarters of Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, leaving it under the control of the Soviets was deemed impossible by the German High Command. Thus, over the next eight months the Germans, in a strenuous effort to take the city, subjected Sevastopol to almost continuous bombardment—assisted by the heaviest artillery piece ever built, the Scherer Gustav railway gun, which could fire a seven-ton projectile a distance of twenty-nine miles. It would not be until late June 1942, however, that the 250-day siege finally came to an end.

  For the next two years Sevastopol and the rest of the Crimean peninsula would remain under German control. Drunk with victory, General Gerd von Rundstedt and other leading figures in Hitler’s regime soon entertained thoughts of turning the Crimea—and especially Yalta—into a kind of German, as opposed to Russian, “Riviera.” But the rapid advance of the Red Army in the fall of 1943 and spring of 1944 saw Sevastopol once again besieged—this time by the Russians. Having encircled Sevastopol on May 6, 1944, the Red Army retook the municipality in three days of fighting that was so fierce that the Chicago Daily Tribune took to calling Sevastopol the “city of death.”1

  Often thought of as the most beautiful port city in Europe, Sevastopol had almost ceased to exist when FDR arrived in the fading evening light of February 11, 1945. All but a few thousand of the city’s prewar population of 150,000 had long since fled, and according to the Russian authorities who greeted the president and his party, only six of the city’s buildings were still standing. As Anna put it, she had never seen such “wanton destruction.”2

  Even though it was late, and it had taken them three hours to make the journey from Yalta, FDR insisted on taking a few minutes to be driven through the ruins. The scenes of “stark destruction” greatly disturbed him, even more than he had been at Yalta. After posing a few questions about the rebuilding of the port, FDR boarded the USS Catoctin for a night’s rest in the captain’s quarters. But as Ambassador Harriman later recalled, the president “had a ghastly night” and awoke the next day fatigued. Whe
n he was approached by Russian naval officers as he was about to leave for the Saki Airfield, he turned to his interpreter, Lieutenant Commander George Stroganoff, and said: “George, please tell them that I appreciate everything that they’ve done, but I am very, very tired and I am too exhausted to talk anymore and to answer any questions.”3

  The eighty-mile drive to Saki took roughly three and a half hours. Waiting for the president at the airfield were Harry Hopkins, Secretary Stettinius, Charles Bohlen, and other members of the American delegation, along with Foreign Minister Molotov. As protocol demanded, a Soviet band and Guard of Honor once again rendered full honors for the president before he got into his wheelchair and was lifted aboard his aircraft—the Sacred Cow—at 10:40 a.m. So exhausted were the members of the delegation that little if any conversation occurred during the tortuous five-hour flight that took them the one thousand miles from the Crimea to Egypt. If not for FDR’s heart condition, they might have made the journey in less time, but since they were limited to a maximum altitude of 10,000 feet they had to follow a flight path that took the planes considerably westward, to avoid the high peaks of east-central Turkey.4

  At 3:15 p.m. the president’s plane put down at Deversoir Field on the shores of the Great Bitter Lake, which makes up part of the Suez Canal complex. Following the American minister to Egypt’s customary greetings, the party motored to the nearby Suez Company boat landing, where they were ferried by small craft to the waiting USS Quincy. Relieved to be back on board that ship, FDR retired to his quarters, where he immediately dictated a note of thanks to Marshal Stalin for his hospitality. He also expressed how heartened he was as a result of the meeting between the three leaders at Yalta. “I am sure,” FDR said, “that the people of the world will regard the achievements of this meeting not only with approval, but as a genuine assurance that our three great nations can work as well in peace as they have in war.” Taking down this dictation, as he had dozens of times before, Assistant Naval Aide William Rigdon could not help but notice the president’s upbeat mood. But this of course was no guarantee that what some were already calling “the spirit of Yalta” would endure.5