The Requiem Collection: The Book of Jubilees, More Anger than Sorrow & Calling Babel: Novel Set

by Eric Black

  Libby smiled. “I did.”

  “Would you like to set up a meeting with Dr. Wilson? I can pass it on to have it put on your calendar. I’m sure he would be thrilled to accept an invitation to the White House.”

  Libby nodded. “Yes, I’d like that. Make sure his wife is invited as well.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, I’m fine now,” Libby lied. “Thanks for your concern.”

  Joe knew there was more she was hiding from him but he let it be. “Okay. You should get some rest. It can’t be easy leading our country in a time of war.”

  “No, it’s not. But that’s the country that I now lead.”

  Joe nodded and walked out of the Oval Office, closing the door behind him. After he left, Libby looked around the room. It had changed as well. The office was no longer the stuffy office of Woodrow Wilson, it had become her office. The items were the items of the time but she could tell they were selected by her, matching her taste in décor.

  She sat down on the small couch in the room and wondered what was happening to her. She hoped she could somehow escape the nightmare and return to a time where she had a family.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Passchendaele, Belgium – November 1917

  Libby landed at the private airfield in Belgium. She knew what she was doing was extremely dangerous. She had landed on the front lines of the war in the secret of night. She had heard of other Presidents doing the same and she had always thought it was something she wanted to do as President.

  Despite much debate and disapproval by those in her advisory circles, Libby made the call as the President and now here she sat in an empty field, inside of a small biplane waiting for the Secret Service to finish clearing the area.

  Once all was cleared, she entered the protective convoy that would take her to the command headquarters to meet with the minds behind the battle ongoing in Belgium. She wanted to surprise the soldiers and show them that not only did the United States support them, as the Commander in Chief she wanted them to see that, just like her country, she was not afraid to go into the enemy’s den.

  Under deep cover of night Libby was taken to the headquarters building (really not much more than a large tent and sandbags). There she was met by the British Field Marshal, Sir Douglas Haig. He very politely gave her a tour of the facility and briefed her on the engagements in which the troops were involved; however, Libby could tell beneath his gentlemanly exterior he was not thrilled that she was there.

  “It is fortunate that your plane was able to arrive,” Haig said to her once she was seated in the area that served as the map room. “The rains have not come for the past two days, which is most unusual. It has rained here seemingly nonstop for some time.”

  Libby nodded in agreement. “I am most fortunate.”

  She had known that the past three days would be rainless. She also knew that on the following day, November 6 that the 1st and 2nd Canadian Divisions would move up to the front lines and the next phase of the battle would begin. The objectives of that final assault would be met three hours after the battle began.

  She mentioned the battle plan to Haig and he seemed surprise. He had given her minor details, more of a glossing over than anything and was pleased that she was so knowledgeable to his plan.

  “You have done your homework, Madam President.”

  Libby smiled. “I have indeed. Would it surprise you if I said that I have absolute faith in your plan and that I expect that the village of Passchendaele be captured entirely by your forces within the week?”

  Haig smiled back. “If it were not my plan, I would be surprised indeed. I am pleased to see that the Americans have such a committed Commander in Chief. If you support your generals then the Best of the British is with us.”

  “Sir Haig, you are very kind. Well,” she said standing up, “you have a war to wage and I won’t keep you from it. I would like to meet some of the men, which is my primary purpose here.”

  Haig stood as she rose and nodded in approval of her wanting to meet with his soldiers. “Very well. Our Howitzer unit has been fighting alongside of the Canadians on the front line. They have been pulled back as the 1st and 2nd Canadians take the forefront. These Howitzer men are some of my finest and have taken quite a hit. Many of the men that started with the unit have not survived the battle. Bloody Krauts.”

  The Howitzer unit was brought in to the mess and it was Libby’s pleasure to serve them their food. She scooped the stew for the men, which compared to the meals they had eaten on the front line seemed to them to come from the finer restaurants in London.

  Many of the men did not know who she was as they had been fighting for several years without much news of the world but she was announced and then given the opportunity to speak to the men. She thanked them for their service and assured them that the Americans would fight side-by-side with them until the job was done.

  As she spoke, her Secret Service team began moving into position to transport her back to the plane. They needed to be gone before the morning and before the rain came.

  She walked over to Sir Haig, who had joined her in the mess in meeting with the men to say goodbye. “Before you part,” he conveyed, “one of the men would like to speak with you.”

  “Of course,” she replied, conscious of the time but wanting to give what short time she had left to thank the men.

  She followed Haig to the back of the mess. Other soldiers had begun to enter the mess and the Howitzer unit moved to the back to open tables for the newly arriving men.

  She arrived at a small table and Haig extended his hand towards the soldier who wanted to speak with her. She had not noticed the man when he first came through the chow line. For his part, he was exhausted and although he noticed her upon entering he saw only a woman. There was something familiar about her but that thought was fleeting – he was just happy to have a warm meal.

  That changed when she addressed the group.

  He nearly fell out of his chair. Some of the men noticed and laughed at him, accusing him of being smitten.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening but somehow unexplained the President of the United States was standing in front of him. Not the President from 1917 America but the President from his time.

  Vincent Shakespeare and Libby Williams looked at each other. She was just as surprised as he was. Sitting there before her was the man who was in a coma in the hospital in Belgium with her.

  Whatever plans she had made to return to the United States had now changed.

  The Secret Service agents closely watched the conversation between Libby and Vincent. They were beside themselves as they knew her visit was already outside of the net of safety for the incoming weather. They wanted to move the conversation along but knew that she would not allow the conversation to end until she was ready.

  Libby and Vincent had spoken for about thirty minutes when the rain drops first hit the top of the mess tent. Within five minutes, the downpour was tremendous. The agents knew they had missed their window. It would be thirty minutes to the airfield through the thick mud and they knew with the rain deepening that mud there would be no possibility of a flight departing. The President would be here for some time.

  When the British government learned of the delay they were just as nervous. They were not thrilled at the idea of the death of an American President under one of their combat missions. President Williams was kept well beyond the line of fire but that did little to put King George or Sir Haig at ease.

  The battle lasted only a few more days when the fighting completely subsided. And when the combat finally ended, everyone sighed in relief. Libby included. The battlefront was not her ideal choice of locations.

  The day after the victory was secured, Libby sought out Sir Haig. “I would like to ask your leave of one of your soldiers.”

  The comment took Haig off guard. “Whom do you mean, madam? You see, the battle is over but there will be more. We are moving out soon enough. I c
an’t spare one of my officers for even the shortest time.”

  Libby smiled. “Don’t worry yourself. I’d like for one of the men of your trenches to be offered an opportunity to serve as an advisor to my Generals. We would ask him to explain trench life here so that our American soldiers will be better prepared.”

  “I see. And did you have a particular soldier in mind?”

  “Shakespeare,” she replied, “from your Howitzer unit.”

  “Indeed. Wasn’t it he that requested your audience? He must have made quite an impression.”

  “He did indeed. Now, if you will give him leave he will travel back with me to Washington. There, he will spend some months with my top military advisors, assisting in developing the methods in which my soldiers will be trained going forward. This soldier will be imperative in the operation of American military strategy as far as daily life during the war for our soldiers. What better man to give such advice as one who has lived that life?”

  Haig considered the request a moment longer. “I can see wisdom in this request. I’ll have my man draw up the papers and Private Shakespeare will be placed under your guidance. Will there be anything else?”

  Libby said there was not. “Well, then,” Haig continued. “I would say that I am sorry to see your departure but we both know that would be untruthful. I am thankful for your presence but at the same time your people need you back in your country. I will say the Americans have the Best of the British before them.”

  Libby smiled, shook Haig’s hand and then was led by the Secret Service back to her airplane. She was joined by Vincent.

  There had been little time for them to talk during the battle – he was coming off the front lines but that did not mean he was exempt from duty. Now that he was on board, the plane left the runway and headed west. She was thankful that she would have several hours to speak with him once they arrived on the first battleship.

  Her travel arrangements were less than ideal but it was the most advanced for that time. Her travel from Belgium to Washington consisted of several plane transits moving from battleship to battleship throughout the Atlantic. Each plane contained one pilot and one passenger. The Secret Service agents traveled in planes adjacent to the President’s and Vincent’s followed behind.

  Once they were on board the first of several battleships, Libby offered Vincent something to eat and drink and he accepted both. A table was brought in and set between them. It was still military food but at least it was actually cooked in an oven and the water wasn’t grey with mud and ashes. Vincent marveled.

  With everything in place, the room was cleared (to the scowl and disagreement of her lead agent Joe). With the door closed, Libby looked at Vincent and smiled. “It’s not quite Air Force One, is it?”

  Vincent laughed. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “I guess you wouldn’t. I can assure you, even with all of security measures that surround my travel that flying across the Atlantic has never taken me several days. Now,” she said seriously and looking straight at him, “what is going on?”

  Vincent shrugged and responded in mock sarcasm. “Are you referring to the fact that you’re the President of the United States during World War I or the fact that I have somehow taken the place of my great-grandfather during a battle of that same war?”

  Libby allowed herself to laugh mildly. “I am referring to both.”

  “I don’t know. I can tell you that one moment I was standing beside the memorial in Ypres and the next I woke up a soldier – my great-grandfather to be specific – in the battle that the memorial was honoring.”

  Libby nodded. “I had a similar experience. I remember being shot and then taken to a hospital in Belgium. You were at the same hospital. I came and visited you in your room. You were in a coma.”

  “A coma? Wait…you did?” Vincent interrupted. “Why would you come visit me? You’ve never met me.”

  “I guess I wanted to visit the only other American in the hospital there to make sure they were taking care of you. Anyways, I must have blacked out. The next thing I remember is me waking up in the White House as Woodrow Wilson.”

  Vincent was amazed at this. “You actually took the place of Woodrow Wilson?”

  “I did. And let me say it was strange, even more so when I met his wife, a personal role model of mine, and she saw me as him.”

  “So what happened then?”

  “Well, I filled the role of the President, something in which I do have a little experience. But then something changed. I can’t explain it. It was like I was waking up from a dream. The next thing I knew, everything else was the same but people were calling me President Williams as if I belonged there.”

  Vincent considered her words. “It just doesn’t make any sense. If we’re both back at the hospital and we’re dreaming this, how are we in the same dream and how are we interacting with each other in this dream?”

  “I’m not sure that we are dreaming. I’d like to think we are. But I’ve never had a dream span this many days. It’s like somehow, if it ever was a dream, it has now become real.”

  “You’re right. In fact, now that you’ve just mentioned the change in people – that they recognize you as you and they expect it to be you even though we’re in the year 1917 – I’ll tell you I’ve had the same experience. At first everyone was calling me by my grandfather’s first name. Then, they started calling me by my first name.”

  “When did you first notice?”

  “It was right after I shot…” Vincent stopped.

  “What? Who did you shoot?”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Vincent said to himself, speaking the words aloud.

  “What doesn’t make any sense?”

  “This has to be a dream. When I shot him, it was just part of the dream. There’s no way anything actually happened because of what I did in a dream.”

  “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

  “Hitler. I killed Adolf Hitler.”

  Now it was Libby’s turn to be shocked. “Hitler is here?”

  “Yes, Hitler fought in the battle we just finished. He was only a young soldier but this battle was the beginning of his rise. He was on the front line and I shot him in the chest. I didn’t see him die but I don’t see how he could have lived.”

  “So let me get this right. You and I are supposed to believe that because you shot Hitler and therefore changed history, that everything actually changed? Is this some kind of sick joke? I have to be in some sort of medical coma or something and the medication is causing me to hallucinate.”

  “Libby, look…”

  “Don’t call me Libby.” She was confused and angry. “You can call me Madam President or President Williams if you like.”

  Vincent was confused and angry as well but he didn’t let her scolding affect him. “President Williams, I don’t know what’s going on here either. What you and I both are saying doesn’t make any sense. Maybe and hopefully we are both stuck in some kind of dream. It’s bizarre that we would be here together but who knows, maybe this type of thing happens all of the time. I don’t know, I’ve never been in a coma before.”

  Libby knew she had spoken harshly and took a deep breath to calm herself. If her years in business and politics had taught her nothing else it had taught her never to let her emotions impede a rational decision. She needed a make a rational decision now and anger at not understanding her current situation would not be beneficial to either of them.

  “Vincent, I apologize. I don’t mind if you call me Libby. You are the only friend I have here right now and you don’t need some pompous middle-aged woman who is not getting her way spoiling that friendship.”

  “Accepted. But no, I shouldn’t have called you Libby. Obviously I knew that your family and friends called you that but I don’t know why that name was in my head. I have always referred to you as President.”

  “That’s fine. Now let’s go through this again. Tell me about your killing of Adolf Hitler.” />
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Washington, D.C. – June 1921

  Soon, the Great War was over. The Treaty of Versailles was signed. During another life, the United States rejected the treaty stating it favored the British. President Woodrow Wilson suffered a stroke, inhibiting his leadership ability to press upon Congress to get the treaty passed.

  This was not the case under President Williams. She knew that Senator Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts would block the treaty from passing so she began working with him early. Since Edward House, a close advisor to Woodrow Wilson, was not in the picture, Libby worked with Lodge directly to create the platform she would present as the American interest during the negotiations of the treaty.

  The treaty addressed many of the future actions of the League of Nations. Libby knew that the League would not prove ultimately effective but was very familiar with the positive outcomes of the League. Incorporating these in the treaty, she was able to accomplish something that Wilson had not. She was able to get the treaty passed by the United States while protecting the interests of the American people. At the same time she was able to influence the world in the ways that the League of Nations had been able to, without the creation of the League. On the other hand, however, the absence of the League caused many issues that she could not have seen coming (which eventually led to the United States falling behind Germany, Yugoslavia, and the Ottoman Empire in world politics).

  While the world did not notice the absence of Adolf Hitler, Libby and Vincent did. The Italian dictator Benito Mussolini was rising to power but the Libby Williams-version of the Treaty of Versailles had changed the ideology of Europe and Asia. The ideology behind Communism and Fascism was corrupted and people were not so easily taken in to that type of life. Dictators who were moving towards that type of thinking were dismissed. She didn’t know it yet but Mussolini would soon be exposed for who he really was and would never rise to full power in Italy.

  The Japanese would continue treading their own path but without German or Italian influence. They would, however, successfully push for full dominance over China and would raise a vast army that would expand the Japanese Empire into most of Russia and into India. War would eventually push the Japanese back to their own island, freeing the nations they had conquered, including China – but all of this was years away.