by Wagher, Ward
Stalin’s pipe had gone out. Rather than refilling it, he laid it down on the table. “How long?”
“Two weeks, maybe three.”
“I relied upon you to govern the generals and to manage the transport of supplies. You are now saying you have failed.”
Khrushchev was thinking feverishly. No one contradicted Stalin willingly. But he had rescued a nearly impossible situation and Stalin knew it. Sometimes it was necessary to roll the dice and push all one’s chips onto the table.
“I have been very successful, Comrade Party Secretary. We have recovered from a disastrous opening to the war. The Germans had successfully stopped rail and truck convoy traffic from their bombing. I have gotten supplies moving by routing individual trucks at night. We have been clever in the management of this war since we changed leadership. And we captured one-hundred-thousand German troops at Lublin.”
Stalin glared at Khrushchev for nearly thirty seconds. He then looked down to pick up his pipe. He carefully began refilling it. The scritch of the match was loud in the silence of the room. He began puffing and released clouds of the vile-smelling tobacco smoke. Khrushchev idly wondered how the man had avoided poisoning himself. He reminded himself to pay careful attention. He forced himself to relax and breathe normally.
Khrushchev had decided that situations like this were akin to facing a viper, requiring courage and cleverness to survive. That Stalin picked up his pipe was a good sign, though. Maybe he would once again survive baiting the dragon in his den.
“Very well, Nikita Sergeyevich, you will push the armies as far as possible and then get them bunkered up. You may then winterize them. But...”
Stalin held up a finger.
“You will not allow the Germans to take back the territory that General Smirnov so bravely won for the revolution.”
Stalin looked over at Malenkov. “So, Georgiy, what do you have for me this morning?”
“Comrade Secretary, we have completed a new aircraft factory in the Urals. We will soon be producing more fighter aircraft to battle those accursed German Fortress bombers.”
“You mean the bombers sold to the Germans by the American capitalist running dogs.”
“Er, correct, Comrade Party Secretary.”
“I suppose things are going about as well as we can expect, given the unexpected resilience of the Germans.”
No one commented, nor did Stalin expect any. Without another word, he stood up and left the room. The remaining men in the room looked at each other.
“Is the meeting completed, or did he have to use the toilet?” Khrushchev asked.
No one dared to get up and leave without Stalin’s dismissal. But they had things to do, and they wondered whether to wait. Khrushchev stood up.
“If something happens because I was not there to manage it, he will blame me anyway.”
The others watched as Khrushchev walked out. Finally, Malenkov and Kruglov got up and left the room. In his office, Stalin sipped a cup of hot chocolate with his daughter Svetlana.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
September 8, 1943; 7 PM
British Naval Base HMS Highflyer
Trincomalee Fortress
Ceylon
“The barometer continues to drop, Admiral.”
Charles Forbes turned to the meteorologist. “I suppose we are in for a bit of a blow, then.”
“Oh, I think it will be rather more than that, Sir.”
Captain Culpepper sat in the office along with Admiral King. King considered the weather forecast and looked at Forbes.
“Is this harbor secure for rough weather? Or should we consider putting to sea?”
“This is considered the finest harbor in the world. We should have no problems weathering here. That is not my concern, however.”
“The Japanese,” King said.
“Right. We know a substantial task force has arrived in Singapore. You’ve seen the pictures. That Cat pilot has more courage than anyone I know.”
“And we don’t know if they have sailed again, and where.”
“Correct. Yamamoto would not reinforce Singapore like that unless he had something specific in mind. He otherwise could profitably use the force elsewhere. I would like to hear your thoughts, Admiral.”
King leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on his knees. This was the question he had pondered over several days since hearing about the Japanese in Singapore.
“We believe the Japanese will either attack Perth or here. Are we missing anything? Is there somewhere else they could do great damage at minimal risk?”
Culpepper raised a finger and Forbes nodded to him.
“Admiral Forbes and Admiral King, Sirs, they could invade the Indian mainland. There is no way they could hold a beachhead. The forces we have there dwarf anything the Japs could put ashore.”
“So, you are saying you would rule that out?” Forbes asked.
“Yes, Sir. The Japanese have made some miscalculations in this war, but they are not stupid.”
“Trincomalee or Perth, then Captain?”
“Sir, I just don’t know. This base represents a strategic threat to them. But there is an emotional attachment that would draw them into trying to pry us out of Perth. My guess is they will hit here.”
“Should we take advantage of the storm to disperse the fleet?” Forbes asked.
“How long will it take for everything to clear the harbor?” King asked.
“About four hours, if everything goes well,” Culpepper said. “We have practiced this.”
King looked around the room and then directly at Forbes. “My recommendation, Admiral, is that we disperse. If the Japs attack, they will time their arrival for first light or shortly after that. We have our replacement aircraft so that I can take Intrepid out along with a combat group. If you can get the Cats off the ground tomorrow, we have a chance to harry an attacking force either on the way in or out. But I would clear everything out.”
Forbes folded his arms as he considered everything he heard. He looked over at the map on the wall and studied it. He visibly made up his mind and turned to face his guests in the office.
“Captain Culpepper, I want you to prepare sailing orders for everything in the harbor. Get with your team and assign everyone a patrol area. Admiral King will need sea room for his task force. But, send the warning order first. That will give everyone a chance to get up steam and get their liberty parties aboard.”
Culpepper stood. “At once, Admiral.” He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.
The two admirals remained in the room. Forbes began filling his pipe.
“You know, Charles, that is really foul-smelling tobacco.”
“I will have you know, Ernie Rey, that our former king preferred this brand, God rest his soul.”
“I suppose none of us are perfect. I will feel much safer out in that weather than breathing your smoke!”
“I always thought you Yanks were somewhat effete.”
King laughed heartily as he stood. “I thought that was the name of an island somewhere around Borneo.”
“Go on, get out of here,” Forbes laughed. “Let’s hope and pray that this will be an exercise.”
“I don’t know, Admiral. If the IJN is out in this storm, I think I would like the opportunity to go after them. If they aren’t coming this way, Archie Vandergrift is going to have a tough time in Perth.”
“There is that. God be with you, Admiral.”
“Thanks, Charles.”
Admiral King noticed the smoke coming from the stack as he walked up the gangway to Intrepid. Once on deck, he took the time to salute the duty officer and then turned to salute the flag. Old Glory crackled and snapped in the stiff wind. He made his way to the flag bridge. His flag lieutenant, Sam Plotczyk, hovered in the background, and King turned to him.
“Where is the Captain, Sam?”
“I believe Captain Duncan is on the bridge.”
“Ask him if I might ha
ve a word with him.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
A few minutes later, Captain Donald Duncan stepped onto the Flag Bridge.
“You sent for me, Sir?”
“Yes, Don. Have you received the sailing orders?”
“Yes, Admiral. The Brits have given us priority in getting out of the harbor. Most of the lighter units have already weighed anchor. We’ll be pulling in the hawsers in about forty-five minutes.”
“How are the watch bills?”
“Most of the crew started coming back aboard when the weather turned bad.”
“How do the flight crews look?”
“They are green, Sir. Most of them just out of training. The CO’s are solid, though.”
“They will have to do. If nothing else, they will get practice in flight operations.”
“I don’t want to launch in this weather, Admiral.”
“I hear ya, Don. I don’t either. I think Admiral Forbes is sending the Cats out early tomorrow. If they spot the Jap fleet, we won’t have a lot of choices.”
“I understand, Admiral.”
“Very well. I won’t keep you. Getting the ship out of the harbor tonight is going to get interesting.”
Duncan nodded. “We’ll do whatever we need to do, Sir.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
§ § §
September 9, 1943; 10 AM
The White House
Washington, DC, USA
“So good of you to see me, Mr. President.”
Harry Truman studied the tall, patrician-looking gentleman in his office. The New York Times had been attempting to stir up resentment of the Germans because of the previous government’s activities. However, to be truthful, Truman thought, Ribbentrop was guilty of turning a blind eye to Hitler’s depredations of the Jews at the very least. He wondered about Schloss’s judgment in sending someone associated with Hitler to the United States.
“Welcome to the United States, Mr. Ribbentrop. I understand you had a long flight.”
“It was a very long flight. I was happy we did not run out of fuel. I could tell the pilots were concerned.”
“I always get concerned when I fly over water. Nevertheless, I am delighted you made it safely.”
Ribbentrop pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it to Truman.
“Herr Schloss asked me to deliver this to you, Sir.”
“Thank you.”
Truman laid the letter on his desk and turned back to his guests. Ribbentrop was accompanied by Hans Thomsen, the Reich Ambassador to the United States.
“Won’t you gentlemen have a seat? Would you like some coffee?”
“Some coffee would be very nice, Mr. President,” Ribbentrop said.
They took the offered seats, and Truman walked over to the buffet and poured two cups of coffee. He walked over and handed it to the Germans. Ribbentrop’s eyes widened when the President of the United States served him. Truman poured a third cup for himself and then sat down across from the sofa where Ribbentrop and Thomsen sat.
“I assume you are on a trade mission, Mr. Ribbentrop. Is there anything that I can do to grease the skids for you?”
Ribbentrop hesitated. He had not heard the expression before, but quickly understood Truman’s intent.
“I understand that work is proceeding on getting our aircraft carriers ready for sea. Your Navy has been helpful in providing requirements. I hope you will be able to place them in service quickly.”
“I think they will be useful, and I appreciate Mr. Schloss moving so quickly to expedite the sale.”
“The hard currency was useful,” Ribbentrop said with a crooked grin.
“Once again, I apologize for withdrawing the offer to sell more B-17s. We did not expect to retake the Hawaiian Islands this soon. Unfortunately, it is critical to reinforce as quickly as possible. Anything we have with the range is flying critical materials into Oahu.”
“This gives you a bridgehead into the Pacific. The bombers will probably be very useful now. Fortunately, we are beginning to get some prototype units from the Heinkel factory. I think we shall soon be in series production. Perhaps we can construct enough of the bombers to sell some back to you.”
Truman now looked surprised. “That had not occurred to me. I suppose it is something to explore.”
“My mission, though, is to develop some sources for critical minerals. I suspect you are having trouble meeting your own needs, but if you can help us gain intro to the Canadians, that would be helpful.”
“I suspect the Canadians may not have as much available as you wish. They are fully engaged in helping the Dominion forces in the Pacific. However, I shall be happy to arrange the introductions.”
“I would greatly appreciate that,” Ribbentrop said.
Truman set his cup and saucer on the coffee table. “Now, tell me how things are going with the war against the Soviets.”
Ribbentrop looked at Thomsen and back at the president. “The war is not going as well as we would like. The loss of Model’s army in Poland was a major setback. And this recent breakout near Warka in Poland has us concerned. I think we will be able to win this war, but it will be challenging.”
“I understand. We have received your small squadron of jet fighters. As you know, General Electric has negotiated a license to produce the engines. They have developed some improvements to the engines that we plan to offer back to Germany in a cross-licensing arrangement. The GE engines will produce more power and be more reliable.”
“I am surprised you are aware of this, Mr. President.”
“I like to keep my fingers on the pulse of the armaments production. I probably should not divert my attention to such, but I did this before I became president, and it interests me.”
And Ribbentrop wondered what those manufacturers thought about having the President looking over their shoulders. Yet, he had seen Schloss do the same thing time and again – except that Schloss seemed often made clever suggestions on making the weapons more effective. Ribbentrop wondered if Truman had the same gift.
“The Reich Chancellor has authorized me to close any deals that will be to our mutual advantage while I am here. I can probably stay in this country for a month or so if it is profitable to do so.”
“Good.” Truman nodded to the secretary sitting in the corner, who was assiduously taking notes.
Ribbentrop concluded that, if anything, Truman’s reputation as a blunt-spoken politico was under-reported. But he was also charming.
“I know you are very busy, Mr. President, but I appreciate the time you have taken this morning.”
“We are not allies, Mr. Ribbentrop, but Germany and the United States are now friends. We have been helpful to each other and I want to encourage that. Thank you for coming to see me.”
Truman stood up, indicating that the meeting was over. As he escorted them to the door, Truman grasped Ribbentrop’s arm and stopped him.
“Do you play poker, Mr. Ribbentrop?”
The German Commerce Minister looked into the sparkling eyes of the President of the United States. “No, Mr. President. However, I am always willing to learn.”
“Good. You will likely receive an invitation soon.”
Ribbentrop pondered the contradictory personality of the man who was the accidental president of the American people. He was still considering what he saw and heard when he stepped into the Horch to leave the White House drive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
September 10, 1943; 7 AM
USS Intrepid
Bay of Bengal
Lieutenant Plotczyk stepped onto the Flag Bridge, carrying a message form decoded in the radio shack. Admiral King stood at the front of the deck and scanned the sea with his binoculars.
“Message from Admiral Forbes, Sir. Trincomalee is under attack.”
King turned and accepted the message. He quickly scanned it and then walked over to the phone.
“Who’s this?” he barked into the receiver. He lis
tened for a moment. “This is Admiral King. In the future, sailor, you will remember to answer the phone by speaking your rank and name and location. Just saying hello doesn’t cut it. Clear? Fine. Now let me talk to the captain.”
Lieutenant Plotczyk moved back to stand against the bulkhead, his regular station on the flag bridge. The Admiral was facing him, so he couldn’t grin about the discomfited sailor without getting in the line of fire. While he usually got along pretty well with the admiral, he was not anxious to face the blowtorch himself.
“Don, the Japs are attacking Trincomalee. Are you in a position to launch? I’d like to intercept the Japs on their way back to their carriers.”
He listened for a moment.
“Okay, I understand. Once we get the fighters launched, I want to send up the search birds. There’s a Jap task force around, and I want to know where it is. And, probably, you should start arming the strike force.”
King hung up the phone and walked over to Plotczyk. “The captain didn’t want to launch. It’s still pretty bad out there, but he agrees on the necessity.”
“If the Japs were able to launch, we should be able to.”
“And if we can catch them on the return, they’ll be low on fuel and ammo. If they were carrying torpedoes, they would have had to jettison them. There wouldn’t have been much left in the harbor for them to hit.”
“If you don’t need me for anything at the moment, Sir, I thought I might slip down to CIC. If something important comes in, I can get it to you quickly.”
“Fine. Get going.”
Flying an airplane off the deck of an aircraft carrier was something of a black art, an intricate dance. As the carrier turned into the wind and accelerated to flank speed, the crew began raising the fighters from the hangar deck to the flight deck. Admiral King watched from above in the flag bridge as the propellers began to turn. He thought the Wildcats were awkward looking airplanes, but in the hands of the American and British pilots, they had so far shot down six enemy planes for each loss of their own. In the calculus of war, that counted for a lot.