As Roosevelt explained to Mackenzie King on Tuesday, March 13, 1945, Churchill’s precipitous move elicited a predictable demand from Moscow: that the Allies include three Russian generals in the negotiations. FDR found this notion unacceptable. “Russia really had nothing to do with the campaign in Italy,” FDR observed, and so had no right to intervene. “Winston,” he feared “had made the situation very difficult,” which left the president quite anxious lest this chance to save American lives may be lost.30 Indeed, tensions over what was called the “Bern incident” would soon escalate into a full-blown diplomatic row that came very close to leading to an outright break between the Kremlin and Washington.
Equally distressing was that there still had been no improvement in Russia’s heavy-handed conduct in Poland and across the rest of Eastern Europe. Indeed, the tensions that emerged in mid-March 1945 bore out FDR’s prescient comment that “the nearer we come to vanquishing our enemies, the more we inevitably become conscious of differences among the victors.” But in spite of frustrations with the Soviets, FDR’s military advisers continued to argue that “the maintenance of Allied unity in the prosecution of the war must remain the cardinal and over-riding objective of our politico-military policy with Russia.” Indeed, the Chiefs suggested that “the instances of Russian refusal to cooperate… while irritating and difficult to understand if considered as isolated events are of relatively minor moment.” They would only assume real importance “if their occurrence should cause our government to adopt retaliatory measures in kind, and these in turn should be followed by further Russian measures, and thus lead to a break in Allied unity.”31
FDR shared this view and thus was disturbed by Churchill’s repeated attempts over the past two weeks to push him in the direction of a more confrontational approach toward the Kremlin. As he told the members of his cabinet at their regularly scheduled meeting on the afternoon of Friday, March 16, he was having considerable difficulty with the British, who seemed “perfectly willing for the United States to have a war with Russia at any time.” This would certainly be the end result, he said, in an oblique reference to Churchill, of any decision to follow what he referred to as “the British program.”32
ANOTHER IMPORTANT ISSUE THAT FDR FACED INVOLVED THE PROGRESS of the Manhattan Project. An increasing number of officials and scientists involved in it began to have serious concerns about the moral implications of an atomic weapon. For much of the war, many of those who knew about “the bomb” assumed it would be simply a larger and more effective version of the conventional weapons the United States already used. But as the science involved in developing the atomic bomb progressed, many experts began to realize that the weapon would completely change warfare, and that when nuclear weapons spread to other countries, as they inevitably would, no war would ever again be “winnable.”33 These concerns led to calls for the international control of the bomb.
Perhaps the greatest advocate for international control was the Nobel Prize–winning Danish physicist Niels Bohr. Profoundly disturbed by the likely consequences of the development of nuclear weapons, including the possibility of a nuclear arms race, Bohr had reached out to Felix Frankfurter, a sitting Supreme Court justice and close friend of FDR, while on a visit to the United States in the spring of 1944 in the hope that Frankfurter would convey his concerns to the president. Sharing Bohr’s profound trepidations about this weapon of “unparalleled power,” Frankfurter not only delivered a detailed memorandum from Bohr but also spoke to FDR himself. As Frankfurter later recorded, FDR was in agreement with Frankfurter’s observation that “a solution to the atomic bomb might be more important than all the plans for a world organization.” FDR authorized his friend to tell Bohr, who was soon heading to England, that he might inform “our friends in London that the President was most anxious [and] most eager to explore the proper safeguards in relation to X.”34
What followed was a series of meetings, first with Churchill in May 1944, who dismissed Bohr’s concerns out of hand, and then with FDR, who agreed to meet the physicist when the latter next visited the United States, in August. Unlike Churchill, FDR took Bohr’s views seriously, and seemed to imply in the meeting that he concurred with Bohr’s argument that the time had come to inform the Russians about the project—a key goal of those in favor of international control. Churchill, however, remained adamantly opposed to sharing of the nuclear secret, and was so disturbed by Bohr’s activities that he even suggested it was time to have Bohr arrested for his “mortal crimes.”35
Churchill’s unequivocal opposition resulted in the crafting of a second Anglo-American agreement on the development of nuclear weapons. Referred to as the “Hyde Park Memorandum,” and signed in September 1944 while Churchill was on a visit to Springwood, it categorically stated that the “suggestion that the world should be informed regarding tube alloys, with a view to an international agreement regarding its control and use, is not accepted.” On the contrary, this “matter should continue to be regarded as one of utmost secrecy.” The document also registered Churchill’s and Roosevelt’s concurrence that the bomb “might perhaps” be used against the Japanese “after mature consideration.”36
Churchill had consistently opposed any sharing of the atomic secret, and remained convinced that the new weapon was simply a bigger bomb that involved “no difference in the principles of war.” Thus his reasons for signing the Hyde Park Memorandum appear to be clear. But why Roosevelt should suddenly have decided to draft and sign a document that seemingly rejected Bohr’s concerns is not readily apparent.37 It may have been that the memorandum’s language—such as the notion “that when a ‘bomb’ is finally available, it might perhaps, after mature consideration, be used against the Japanese”—was vague enough to satisfy FDR that he would in all likelihood revisit this question later. FDR had certainly hinted at this possibility when he intimated in a conversation with Churchill, shortly before the two men signed the memorandum, that one alternative to the bomb’s use on a civilian target was to offer a demonstration of its power coupled with a warning to the Japanese.38 But there was still no proof that the effort to build an atomic bomb would be successful, and the president had many other pressing matters in front of him so the discussion ended there.39
In the six months since the two leaders had signed the agreement, the atomic project had progressed to the point that the new weapon would almost certainly be ready by mid-summer. Officials involved in the Manhattan Project began to argue that the moment to engage in the “mature consideration” called for in the Hyde Park Memorandum had arrived. Many had come to the same conclusions as Bohr about the inherent risks in maintaining the Anglo-American atomic monopoly. Convinced that it would be impossible to keep the technology secret for long, and that a dangerous arms race might be the result, two of FDR’s top scientific advisers, Vannevar Bush and James Conant, favored handing over control of atomic energy to an international agency associated with the Allied nations. By March 1945 they had even raised the possibility that such a provision might be written into the Charter of the United Nations.40
Unable to bring the matter to the president’s full attention amid the heavy demands on his time in the waning months of 1944, Bush and Conant held a series of meetings with Secretary Stimson between December 1944 and March 1945, pressing to have these important questions put before the president. Stimson was finally able to arrange a meeting with FDR on March 15. He opened by dismissing some concerns about the Manhattan Project that had recently been raised by James Dunn in the State Department. In a memo sent to FDR a few days earlier, which echoed a letter sent to FDR by James Byrnes on March 3, Dunn, much to Stimson’s ire, wondered whether Bush and Conant had sold the president “a lemon.” Given the huge sums that had been expended on the project, this would prove disastrous if true. Dunn recommended that the president bring in a body of “outside scientists” to review the effort—a notion that Stimson dismissed as “silly,” since practically every physicist of any standing, including
four Nobel Laureates, was already engaged in the project.41
Stimson then arrived at the more important question of international control. After saying that the bomb was on schedule, he explained that there were essentially two schools of thought on the future control of atomic power: “one being the secret closed-in control of the project by those who control it now, and the other being international control based upon freedom both of science and of access.” Stimson stressed that the question had to be settled before the first use of a bomb and that the president should be ready with a statement on it “just as soon as it was done.”42 In his diary, Stimson characterized his conversation with the president that day as “on the whole, highly successful.”
But there is no indication whether the two men broached the critical questions at the heart of Bush and Conant’s push for the internationalization of the atomic secret: how and whether the bomb should be used in the first place. Should a demonstration of the bomb’s explosive force over either US or Japanese territory be attempted? Or should the United States make full use of the weapon on the Japanese? In other words, just how and when did the president intend to engage in the “mature consideration” called for in the Hyde Park Memorandum?
In the meantime, halfway across the country, in the halls of the University of Chicago, yet another top scientist was beginning to have doubts about the entire endeavor. Leo Szílard’s concerns over German advances in nuclear physics inspired the famous letter that Albert Einstein sent to FDR in the fall of 1939—the letter that sparked the Manhattan Project. Now that it looked as if the atomic bomb would become a reality, Szílard was suddenly unable to sleep at night. Knowing that he would never be able to reach FDR on his own, he turned once again to Einstein, asking his friend to send a letter to the president on his behalf. Szílard hoped to secure an appointment with FDR to discuss his great worry “about the lack of adequate contact between scientists who are doing this work, and those members of your Cabinet, who are responsible for formulating policy.”43
And so it happened, in one of the ironies of World War II, that Einstein delivered a second letter to the White House, dated March 25, 1945. Although for security reasons the letter made no direct mention of Szílard’s fears, the motives behind this communication were quite unlike those that had inspired Szílard to reach out to Einstein in the summer of 1939. Now, the man whose discoveries laid the foundation “upon which all the present work on uranium is based,” as Einstein described Szílard, wanted to implore the president not to take this last step into the unknown. “The nation,” Szílard later reflected, “which sets the precedent of using these newly liberated forces of nature for the purposes of destruction may have to bear the responsibility of opening the door to an era of devastation of unimaginable scale.”44
To ensure that the president saw the letter in a timely manner, Szílard requested that Einstein deliver a copy to Eleanor Roosevelt, who soon replied that she was able to find a time for Szílard to meet FDR. But we will never know how Franklin Roosevelt may have responded to Szílard’s passionate appeals. The meeting was scheduled for early May, and the letter containing Eleanor’s welcome news was delivered to Szílard on April 12, 1945.45
Chapter 15
The Architect
IN SHARP CONTRAST TO THE WEATHER IN HYDE PARK A FEW WEEKS before, Saturday, March 17, 1945, was the hottest recorded St. Patrick’s Day in Washington, DC. With the temperature climbing to 86 degrees Fahrenheit, the signs of spring were everywhere—in the dogwood and magnolia blossoms that brightened so much of the city, and in the full bloom of the lavender wisteria that graced the south portico of the White House.1 St. Patrick’s Day held special meaning for Franklin and Eleanor. Forty years earlier, in a small and simple ceremony held on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, in what must have seemed like an era long since vanished, the two distant cousins were married. As Eleanor had lost her mother to diphtheria in 1892 and her much-loved father to the consequences of severe alcoholism two years later, the bride was given away by her uncle, Theodore Roosevelt, then president of the United States, who, shortly after the ceremony was over, slapped his young nephew-in-law on the back and said, “Nothing like keeping the name in the family, Franklin!”
FDR woke in a jaunty mood that March morning in 1945. There was much jesting between him and his staff—including Secret Service agent Charlie Fredericks, who had been part of Theodore Roosevelt’s presidential detail forty years before—about how things had changed since that happy day in 1905 when the bride and groom were all but overshadowed by the ebullient TR.
FDR was looking forward to celebrating his anniversary, particularly as this year they would be joined by Princess Juliana of the Netherlands. In an effort “to relieve the heavy pressures of callers” for the next week, which included a two-and-a-half-day visit by the governor-general of Canada and his wife, FDR decided to squeeze in two additional senatorial appointments that morning before enjoying a quiet anniversary lunch with Eleanor and the rest of the family.
He then used a relatively tranquil afternoon in his study to work on his mail before receiving Princess Juliana and a small delegation from the Dutch Embassy at 5:00, followed by the usual “children’s hour” and then a formal anniversary dinner for eighteen held in the State Dining Room of the White House. Among the other guests were Dutch Ambassador Dr. Alexander Loudon and Mrs. Betty Loudon as well as Justice Robert Jackson and his wife, Irene.
FDR first met Jackson, who would go on to gain fame at the Nuremberg trials after the war, in Albany, New York, when Jackson was a young law student and FDR was a freshman senator in the New York State Legislature. Thanks to Jackson’s intense interest in Democratic politics, he made sure to stay in touch with the rising political star, and when FDR became president, Jackson was quite eager to accept FDR’s appointment in 1934 as general counsel in the Treasury Department’s Bureau of Revenue (the forerunner of the IRS). A series of further high-profile appointments within the Justice Department followed, and in July 1941 FDR nominated Jackson as an associate justice of the Supreme Court.2
The president, according to Jackson, seemed in fine spirits that evening. “He mixed some martinis,” Jackson recalled, and seemed cheerful and pleased at the progress of the war. He also retained his sense of humor. As the president was being wheeled into the State Dining Room from the Red Room, where drinks were served, one of his three dogs was lying in his path. Unable to move forward, FDR jocularly quipped, “Somebody move the dog—but not by air!” This remark brought a roar of laughter from all who heard it, owing to the recent (and erroneous) press allegations that his son Elliott had used his status to have his dog Blaze flown across the country on a military aircraft.3
Seated at a table covered with St. Patrick’s baubles—pipes, green hats, shamrocks, and potatoes stuck with small Irish flags—the president and his guests passed a pleasant evening. There was much teasing about FDR’s diplomatic faux pas at entertaining the House of Orange with Irish decorations in front of the Dutch princess. After dinner, the group watched a movie and viewed color-film footage taken during the president’s trip to Yalta and the Middle East with some commentary from FDR on the experience. At about 10:30 p.m., the Jacksons took their leave, but the president, despite the admonitions of his doctors to avoid late nights, continued to converse with Juliana, the Dutch ambassador, and a few of the other guests until 1:00 a.m.
In the meantime, as Justice Jackson drove home that evening his wife Irene suddenly said, “I don’t think we will ever see the President alive again.” “That’s damn nonsense,” Jackson replied; the president may have appeared weary at times, but Jackson did not think “he was in any danger.” Still, his wife—in a pattern that would repeat itself as FDR encountered friends and aides who had not seen him for some time—insisted that from where she was sitting, in full view of his face, she could see that he looked “awfully bad.”4
SUNDAY, MARCH 18, WAS PERHAPS THE QUIETEST DAY FDR SPENT IN Washington during this period in the
Oval Office. He held no appointments, aside from his duties as host of a luncheon in honor of Princess Juliana and fifteen other guests. After that, he and the princess set off on a leisurely afternoon drive in the Virginia countryside. In their initial light conversation, FDR—always proud of his Dutch heritage—inquired after Juliana’s daughter, and FDR’s godchild, Princess Margriet, as well as after Juliana’s parents, Queen Wilhelmina and her husband Prince Henry. He also intimated that at Churchill’s invitation, he and Eleanor hoped to make a trip to England in June. But it was impossible to keep the war at bay. Part of the reason that Juliana was so anxious to visit the White House, in fact, was to pass directly into the president’s hands an eight-page memorandum written by her mother describing the desperate situation in the areas of the Netherlands still under occupation. Not mincing any words, the memorandum detailed the horrific conditions under which the people of Amsterdam, The Hague, Rotterdam, Utrecht, and many other Dutch cities were living, devoid of fuel for the winter and reduced to a diet of one loaf of bread and five potatoes per person, per week.
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