A Mighty Endeavor

by Stuart Slade

  That thought caused another long silence. Eventually, Nehru voiced the thought that had caused so much concern.

  “And the decision we make will decide what kind of country we would like this to be.”

  Room 208, Munitions Building, Washington, DC, USA

  “China.” Cordell Hull’s voice echoed around the room with tones that portended doom.

  “China.” Henry Stimson repeated the words with equally gloomy connotations.

  “What’s happening in China?” Henry Morgenthau was curious. His long visit to Jamaica left him out of touch with the developing world situation.

  “Nothing good and that’s the problem.” Stimson shook his head. “Ever since the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, the Chinese have been trying to prolong the war for as long as possible, with the aim of exhausting Japanese resources while they build up their own military capacity. They showed they could fight at the Battle of Shanghai. Their German-trained divisions there held the Japanese back for three months and chewed them up, but they still ended up retreating towards Nanking. At least they proved their army could fight, which was a relief.

  “Since then, they’ve adopted a strategy they call ‘magnetic warfare:’ attracting advancing Japanese troops to definite points where they are subjected to ambush, flanking attacks, and encirclements in major engagements. They did this during the successful defense of Changsha last year and the defeat of the Japanese at Guanxi soon afterwards. They followed that by launching a large-scale counter-offensive against the IJA a few months ago. That got beaten back.

  “The truth is that China has a low military-industrial capacity, limited experience in modern warfare and their army is poorly-trained, underequipped, and disorganized. They lost the only well-trained and equipped units they had in the Battle of Shanghai. The only things that are saving them is the influx of supplies from abroad and that the Japanese have encountered tremendous difficulties in administering and garrisoning the territory they have seized. They recruited a large collaborationist Chinese Army to maintain public security in those occupied areas, but it’s largely ineffective. Japanese control is limited to just railroads and major cities and vast Chinese countryside is a hotbed of Chinese partisan activities.

  “In short, Japan has occupied much of north and coastal China, but the central government and military have successfully retreated to the western interior and are continuing their resistance. However, the Chinese ability to continue fighting is dependent upon supplies from outside. They just don’t have the resources to continue fighting on their own. The Japanese have realized that it’s going to be impossible for them to achieve a decisive victory in the interior of China as long as those supplies flow in. So, they’ve started a major effort to cut them off. They’re occupying the ports along China’s coast for a start and they’re pressuring the French to shut down the Yunnan railway from Indo-China. If they succeed in doing all that, the supply line to China will be shut. The stalemate in the Chinese interior won’t last that long after that happens.”

  “It is U.S. Government policy to support China in its defense against Japanese aggression. We have some rather odd allies in doing that. The Soviets have their own hand in the game. They’re supplying arms and equipment, mostly to the Chinese communist forces, but some is going to Chiang Kai Shek and his nationalists.” Cordell Hull grimaced. As a classical liberal, in his eyes the Communists were little better than the Japanese when it came to totalitarianism. On the other hand, he was realist enough to know that ‘a little better’ was still ‘better’ and the memories of what had happened at Nanking still sickened him.

  “What we need is a new supply line.” Stuyvesant sounded thoughtful, but his mind was already ranging through the possibilities. “One way or another, the Indo-China ports and railways are going to be closed to us sooner or later. We have to build an alternative.”

  “Easier said than done, Phillip. Have you seen the ground out there?”

  In greater detail than you can possibly imagine. Stuyvesant thought. “I have. It is bad, but there is a road already out there. It runs from Kunming to the Burmese border. It was built between 1937 and 1938; by hand, if you can believe that. It’s amazing what 200,000 people working with their bare hands can achieve. If we can hook up to that, then we can shift supplies through there. Roads aren’t as good as railways for shifting large quantities of good, but they’re better than nothing. We can use the ports in Burma, especially Rangoon, shift the goodies by train to Lashio on the China-Burma border and then along the Kunming Road into China proper. At the very least, we can replace the Yunnan Railway that way.”

  “You’re not mentioning the obvious problem, Phillip,” Hull was wary. “The Japanese won’t just sit still for that. Burma is British territory. They’ll pressure Halifax to close down the links you’re just mentioned and we know how Halifax reacts to pressure. He goes to pieces so fast, everybody around him is in danger from the shrapnel.” Hull sounded mightily disenchanted with the British Prime Minister.

  “Well, he might well do so, but here’s the interesting thing. Some industrial colleagues of mine have been negotiating with the Indian Government recently and they picked up some revealing insights. One of them is that it’s open to question exactly who Burma reports to at this time. Until 1937, they were essentially a sub-office of India; and with the changes in London, there’s a strong move to return to that arrangement. The Indians might well be a lot less inclined to succumb to Japanese pressure than Halifax. Asserting their independence and standing as a nation, all that good stuff. Some judicious aid might well reinforce that desire.”

  “We’ve given them several hundred aircraft; won’t that keep them happy?”

  “It’s a start, but they need economic help as well as military. That’s why they’re moving to reincorporate Burma. They need the export goods. You see, Cordell, they can’t ignore Burma. They need the export earnings too badly. If they’re going to make a go of standing on their own feet, then they need to mark out a position in the world trade system as soon as possible. For that, they need Burma. Now, if we offer aid to them in exchange for no interference with us running supplies up to the Burma Road, they’ll take it.”

  “Not if it means upsetting the Japanese. The whole reason why they jumped ship on the Empire was because they were afraid the terms of the Halifax Armistice gave the Japanese claim on India.” Hull shook his head. “Given a choice between forgoing our money and a Japanese occupation army, they’ll turn down our cash in a shot.”

  “Perhaps not.” Stimson was thoughtful. “The Japanese had a lever against England. They could threaten Malaya, Singapore and Hong Kong. They don’t have a lever against India; they can’t get there from where they are now.”

  “They can invade Burma.” Hull sounded very unconvinced.

  Stimson laughed. “Not a chance. Not over the border between China and Burma. The only ways into Burma from China is either across some pretty impassable mountains or from Indochina, through Thailand into Malaya and Burma from the east.”

  “There’s your answer then. The Thais are in Japan’s pocket. All they will do is direct traffic.” Hull set his jaw in determination.

  “What makes you think that?” Stuyvesant sounded idle, but his mind was moving fast. This could turn into the opportunity Suriyothai is praying for.

  “They’ve got a fascist government and they’re buying aircraft from the Japanese.”

  “Come on now, Cordell.” Stimson jumped in with both feet. “They’re approaching the Japanese for aircraft because the State Department stopped delivery of NA-68 and NA-69 aircraft that the Thai Air Force had bought and paid for. Of course they’re looking for another supplier, and there aren’t too many options out there for them. As for a fascist government, they’ve just deposed an absolute monarch and replaced him with a constitutional monarchy and an elected parliament. That doesn’t sound like fascism to me.”

  “They could have given those aircraft to the Japanese. Betrayed our se
crets.” Hull was both obdurate and petulant. Listening to him, Stuyvesant wondered what was driving his opinions.

  “Oh come on, Cordell; those aircraft are hardly the best we produce. They’re modified trainers, mostly. The Japanese may not have a first-line, world standard air force and navy, but they’re better than that. Anyway, I hear the Indians smile upon the Thais. I believe Nehru speaks well of them. If he does that, they can hardly be fascists or Japanese allies.”

  “I second that.” Henry Morgenthau reinserted himself into the debate. “When I was in Jamaica, Nehru himself said exactly that. He claimed the Thais had been of great service to India already and have showed themselves to be a trustworthy ally. He says that the Noth Plan makes it essential that India look west to its defense against the threatened German attack and that leaves them wide open to the East and Japan. They look to Thailand to guard their back door and specifically asked us to resume normal diplomatic and trade relations with Thailand in order to ensure that back door was properly guarded. And, very specifically, to resume arms sales to them.”

  “The Noth Plan?” Stimson looked confused.

  “A German plan for an attack on India. Essentially it involves two thrusts: an Italian push from North Africa, through Egypt and the Sinai, into Transjordan and a German thrust from the Balkans, through Turkey and Iraq, into India. There’s no doubt the plan is genuine, although how the Indians got hold of it is a mystery.” Morgenthau blinked owlishly. “If Indian intelligence is that good, they might be a more valuable ally than we thought.”

  Stimson snorted. “Their intelligence might be good, but their strategic insight isn’t. I find it hard to see them taking a plan like that seriously. The Indian Army have a staff college in Quetta that’s the equal of any in the British Empire, and there’s no shortage of trained professional soldiers out there who know the actual terrain and the true scale of the maps. If anybody can see all the flaws in this so-called Noth Plan it’s them.

  “To the Indian Army, that whole area isn’t a backwater; it’s been their strategic front yard for a hundred years. They have generals serving who fought across Palestine, in Salonika and the Balkans in World War One. I believe there were even officers who had bicycled from India to the UK using much the same sort of routes though Turkey as an invasion force would use. They can’t believe this plan is practical. The force required to carve through Turkey is completely excessive, the supply lines to the base areas are totally inadequate and the transport facilities just don’t exist in the quantities needed to support an invasion force of the required size.”

  Not bad, Stuyvesant thought. I made up a list of ten reasons why Odwin Noth should have had his plan stuffed up his fundamental orifice and you just got three of them. I’ll make a strategist of you yet, Hemy.

  “I think that the reason why the Noth Plan is accepted is that it’s simply so convenient to so many people. It gives the existing administration in India a reason to stay in the war; a reason for the Indian Army to stay in the Middle East. It gives the leaders of the Congress Party a tool to keep their wilder supporters in line and an excuse to maintain armed forces that a significant minority of the party would like to see abandoned altogether. The Noth Plan may be impractical, I’ll take your word for that, but it suits everybody who matters to accept it as gospel.

  “Anyway, we’re dealing with Nazi Germany here. They have an established track record of accepting crazy plans and making them work. Look at the way they came through the Ardennes, for example. I’d say the Indians might have reservations about the Noth Plan but they can’t afford to assume that it’s not serious.”

  “Very good, Stuyvesant; we’ll make a strategist of you yet.” Stimson gave the industrialist a friendly grin. “Cordell, Phillip is right. The Indians can’t afford not to take the Noth Plan seriously. That means they have to leave their back door open. If they believe the Thais will cover it for them, then we have to take their opinion seriously.”

  “I see no reason why we should accept Indian opinions on this matter.” Hull was, if anything, more petulant than ever.

  “We don’t have to.” For those who chose to listen careftilly, there was a hint of real anger in Morgenthau’s voice. Stuyvesant heard it, Hull did not. “We have been advised by Nehru that you are welcome to visit Thailand, discuss the situation with their leaders, see for ourselves the conditions within the country, judge the progress they are making to a representative democracy and gauge the temper of its leaders.”

  “I see no reason for that.”

  Hull spoke with a flat and final note that, more than anything else, pushed Morgenthau over the edge.

  “You see no reason for that? And you served for many distinguished years as a judge? How many defendants did you convict, Cordell, because you couldn’t be bothered to hear their defense? How many guilty verdicts had you decided on before you even entered the courtroom? We call you the “The Judge.” We believe you look on the law as the bastion of right and justice, and now we find you condemn an entire nation without allowing them to say a word in their defense. How could we have been so wrong about you?”

  “Now, wait a moment.” Stimson was shocked at the outburst.

  “A moment be damned!” Morgenthau was in lull flow and was not to be interrupted. “If a government is fascist, if its people represent any part of that evil creed, I will be the first to call for their destruction. I will wish fire, plague, starvation and death upon each and every one of them. But I will not condemn them without giving them a hearing. I will judge by deeds, not by prejudiced opinions held absent the knowledge of hard facts. Cordell, when you refuse to give these people the chance to speak, you deny the very basis of the law you claim to have spent your life supporting.”

  There was a long silence. Henry Stimson was shocked at the outburst and the unheard-of abuse of the Secretary of State. Stuyvesant was outwardly solemn but inwardly delighted at the turn of events that had saved him the need to intervene himself. Morgenthau was trying to get his temper under control after his impassioned speech, while Cordell Hull was struggling to dampen down the fury that consumed him. Hull knew that the task of doing so would be much easier if Morgenthau hadn’t been right. In the room, time and the atmosphere seemed to creak as the seconds turned into minutes.

  “Very well.” Cordell Hull spoke softly, although the strain he was experiencing in keeping his anger in check was painfully obvious. “Henry, I will do as you urge and accept the invitation to visit Bangkok. The law should be the bastion of right and justice, but it is the creation of humans, and that means it is as fallible as any other human creation. It is also as fallible as any of the people who administer it. I will hear what the Thai leaders and the Siamese people have to say and I will judge accordingly.

  “Now, I believe this meeting has run its course and I declare it closed.”

  Technically that should have been proposed, seconded and put to a vote, but nobody cared to argue the point. In any case, Stuyvesant, for one, had other places to be. One of them was telling Lillith to get Igrat on the first Clipper for Manila and Bangkok.

  Dumbarton Avenue, Georgetown, Washington, DC, USA

  “What I don’t understand is why I have to keep buying Iggie presents every time I go with her on a trip. It’s breaking my personal bank.” Henry McCarty sounded seriously aggrieved.

  “It’s because we’re the only opposite sex men have got, ducks.” Eleanor Gwynne sounded vaguely amused. “We cornered the market. Anyway, it’s necessary for the cover you two are running.”

  “I don’t really need Henry along with me.” Igrat shook her head thoughtfully. She was clutching her return air tickets to Bangkok in her hand. The $I,400 round trip price-tag had almost caused Lillith to have an attack of the vapors. “I really don’t; not now. It might get that way, but I’m fine. An American passport protects me much better than anything else. The Germans don’t want to do anything to upset us right now.”

  “Not now, no.” Stuyvesant agreed. “The Ger
man collective sets of eyes are focussed on Russia. When that turns into a real war, everything will go to hell very fast. I’ll defer to your judgement on this, Iggie; make your runs alone until your gut instinct says otherwise.”

  “Thank the Gods for that.” Henry McCarty was a deeply relieved man. “I can’t afford to keep saving her life like this.”

  “You save my life?” Igrat put on a good pretence of being outraged. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been arrested at Marseilles as an undesirable alien. If the French guard hadn’t been looking down the front of my dress, you’d have been toasted for sure.”

  “That’s another point.” Stuyvesant was curious. “How do you get that dress to stay in place? I thought that one deep breath and everybody would see the cherries on the sundaes.”

  Igrat giggled and looked down at her dress. “It’s taped to me, of course. Every Broadway Baby knows that trick.”

  “Ahh, right. OK, Iggie, go tell Lillith that you’re risking your life to save her from spending money on Clipper tickets. Then get on the China Clipper out. You’re running against the clock on this one.”

  The Lodge, Canberra, Australia

  The Lodge was a quiet, modest residence, as 40 room mansions went; like so much of Canberra, it was a temporary structure that after sixteen years had taken on shades of permanence. Of the two studies provided for the Prime Minister, Locock liked the private chamber on the first floor, even if he found the formal room more practical for business. Although he was of two minds about the decor.

  “Rum, single malt, Dimple, gin, brandy, and I mean brandy—not cognac, or…. well there’s a bottle of Pirns lurking back here, and is that Benedictine? The cupboard is pretty bare, Arthur; or I could get us up a bottle of Red Ned, a drop of Muscat?”

  “Oh, whatever you’re having” replied the Treasurer casually.

  “Well, to tell the truth, I rather fancy a cup of tea,” chuckled Locock. “But, if there’s any gas in this soda bottle …” There was.