The Final Hour

by Caldwell, Taylor;

  ‘That’s why I want him for President,’ smiled Mr Regan.

  ‘I don’t understand, Mr Regan. The man we picked is our man. Another Coolidge; a second Harding. Even a Hooverian echo. Safe. We’ve got to have him. Next year. The machinery has gotten under way.’ His astonishment mounted. He leaned towards his old friend. ‘I still don’t believe you are serious. “An honest man.” Do you know the last quotation on Commonwealth & Southern?’

  ‘I do. That isn’t Willkie’s fault, you know. He didn’t, create the TVA.’

  Henri was silent. He sat motionless, except that his strong fingers began to beat a tattoo on the arm of his chair. Then he said: ‘My ignorance is terrible. Would you enlighten me why you are so in love with Willkie all at once?’

  Mr Regan’s pinpoints of eyes began to sparkle, but his face was sombre. He touched the immense spread of paper on his desk. ‘Henri, do you know what this is?’ With a deft motion of his pudgy hand he spun the paper towards the young man, who looked at it attentively.

  Henri smiled. Wes. I see. What has this got to do with Willkie, your “honest man”? And, if he is so damned “honest,” what do you want with him? Haven’t we had enough honesty in the White House since 1933? I thought you’d had your bellyful.’

  Mr Regan said tranquilly: ‘I never liked Franklin, even when he was a young man. For many reasons. Besides, he’s not the man—for the coming years. We need youth and strength and virility. So—Willkie’s my man.’

  ‘The man for your money?’ asked Henri.

  ‘The Party won’t have him. Even you can’t do that, against their wishes. They’ve already decided on our man, for the nomination next June.’

  ‘What you are implying,’ said Mr Regan, arousing himself from a strange preoccupation into which he had momentarily fallen, ‘is that this time you, and the others, will not put up my man.’

  ‘What I am implying is that we’ve already listened to you, Mr Regan,’ said Henri, smoothly. ‘The other was your man. We’ve been building him up, by your very orders of less than a year ago. We can’t change. For a sudden and inexplicable whim.’

  Mr Regan clasped his hands on his belly and contemplated Henri for a long moment or two. ‘First of all, we’ll talk about a number of other things, son. Later, we’ll come back to Willkie. How old are you now, Henri? Forty-one? Forty-two? A good age. You are at the height of your mental and bodily vigour. I congratulate you. Henri, you and I have been in agreement for the past year—about certain developments. I think we are still in agreement.’

  Henri did not answer. He gently bit his index finger, and did not turn his implacable eyes from his old friend.

  ‘We’ve changed our opinion, I believe,’ continued Mr Regan. ‘About some things, Henri, what is your stand today?’

  ‘You know what it is. Hitler has kicked us in the backside. I discovered that myself. That’s why I went to Europe this year.’

  ‘And—well?’

  ‘Frankly—and simply—we’ve been had. We’re fools, Mr Regan. It is a humiliating idea. It doesn’t fit my conception of myself at all!’ And Henri smiled slightly. ‘You see, in our discussions with Hitler, we forgot German geo-politics. We forgot German geo-politics that for over one hundred years have been more or less openly declaring that Germany should, and must, conquer the world. Hitler was the professors’ dream of the military Messiah, but a Messiah who would accomplish the conquest without war or bloodshed. These professors, and the other milky ones—the German intellectuals—believed that modern conquest was through economics, and through German “superior mentality.” Can’t you see them, in their musty libraries and laboratories, in their crumbling universities, getting all lyrical over the robust idea of “Strength through Joy”? There’s nothing an attenuated and downy intellectual loves so much as a flexing of muscles—in another man. I’ve seen them stroke such muscles; a fact. And with adoring looks. To the casual masculine American eye, that would have been indecent, shameful; to one with an elementary knowledge of psychology, it was significant and not in the least homosexual.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Regan, as Henri paused. The great fat old man leaned forward, his elbows on his desk, his hands clasped under his chin.

  ‘Yes, we forgot German geo-politics, the idea of Pan-Germanism which is over a century old. I believe the American Founding Fathers were aware of it. But few others seemed to be. Now, I find that very significant, too. Why wasn’t the idea given publicity, except to Germans? That seems to me the most important thing today—this Pan-Germanism idea. We overlooked it We thought we could do business with Hitler. Or rather, with German economists who know that war means ruin both for victor and victim, and prefer profits and markets to territorial expansion. So—the economists, the Reichsbank, the intellectuals, were all in one enthusiastic camp—conquest without war. They were well on the way to it, too. Intellectualism and economics—these were able to overcome the intrinsic war-like psychology of the German people, in those who were clever. But there were many who weren’t clever—the German mass, the pipsqueak people, whose prototype, whose hero, whose god was the Pipsqueak of the Ages—Hitler. And Hitler, I’ve discovered, doesn’t give a damn for intellectual-economic geo-politics.’

  Regan frowned. ‘I’m afraid I’m losing you, Henri.’

  Henri laughed. ‘Wait a bit. I’m not finished. As you know, during the period 1933–38, there has been an unending struggle between Hitler and the German economists. Hitler organized every phase of German life, including industry and economy. We all know that Germany did not have gold with which to purchase raw materials; the people in charge of the economic structure set out to create German credit all over the world. Hjalmar Schacht, the leader and organizer, inaugurated the barter system. They came into the market whenever there was a surplus, and traded, taking whatever raw materials they could buy, whether it was coffee, steel, copper, etc. They paid for them with the finished products, such as typewriters, and gimcracks and cheap gadgets of all kinds, and flooded other countries with them, and especially America. In pursuance of their commerce, they created and controlled the major airlines of South America, as you know. Incidentally, Duval-Bonnet, Christopher’s concern, furnished most of the planes.

  ‘So, Germany was able to compete on a grand scale with us and Britain in Europe, and in South America, until we found various markets closed to us. It is getting very bad, as you know. Both we and Britain saw that things were getting very bad. Schacht and his friends had planned a slow and gradual economic conquest, first by infiltration and trade, and, second, by actual control of finances. They urged Hitler to have patience. They believed that gradually through competition and by exploitation of German workmen and satellite countries, they would reduce us to nothing. Complete conquest, because they would control finance, trade and industry. They whined that they were a “have-not-people,” so that fools in America and England would not become suspicious, and they even created for themselves a wide sympathy among imbeciles and sentimentalists. But during those years they were never short of raw materials, for which they can thank Bouchard and the subsidiaries, I am afraid. They expected to become so potent economically and financially that within fifteen years Germany would not need to go to war for markets.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Regan, softly. ‘And that left us all where?’

  ‘Two years ago,’ continued Henri, ‘I saw this clearly. I didn’t yet pay much attention to German geo-politics, and the militarists. So, I began to cut down on shipments to Germany, whether through South America, to evade the Versailles Treaty, or directly, through cartels. Germany could have a certain amount of material, yes. But no longer were we to supply her with things which might jeopardize ourselves, such as latest plans for aeroplanes, new processes, and a dozen other things. It was my plan to integrate all American production as far as armaments were concerned, get ready, increase shipments of arms and material to England and France, through South America. A slow steady diversion of the flow away from Germany. We got our polit
icians to increase sentiment in America for a cash-and-carry plan, which would redound to the advantage of France and England. We made long-range plans, quietly. For, we saw what was coming—Germany would seize all markets, and, perceiving the military weakness of other nations, would defy them to take those markets away from her.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Regan, as Henri paused a moment to examine his hands, and frown at them.

  The younger man lifted his head and fixed his inexorable eyes upon the great financier’s face.

  ‘But you know all this. We’ve gone over it before.’

  ‘But I like a synopsis.’ Regan smiled.

  ‘We went along with Germany, we industrialists and economists in England and America. Because we were taken in by a very super-clever rascal—Hitler, who not only deluded us, but even Schacht, himself, and all the other financiers and economists in Germany. Hitler had promised to protect German capitalism, in which we are all interested, from Communism and organized unions. He was to be our buffer state between Russia, and Europe, which was very satisfactory, considering our subsidiaries and other investments, in Europe. He was to protect our European investments and commitments and our financial control there. So, we played along with him, agreeably. That’s where I kick myself.’

  ‘I thought that a strong economic and financial control in Germany would assure all Europe freedom from Communism, and America, too. And then, I read Mein Kampf, and took up the serious study of German geo-politics. Originally, as you know, old German geo-politics intended the military conquest of the world by Germany. The modern geo-politicians intended it by market conquest, and economics. I thought the old idea was dead. I discovered it was very much alive.

  ‘For I suddenly discovered that Hitler despised modern geo-politics, and Schacht, and all the professors and intelligencis who hated blood. That he was an anachronism, a military geo-politician. He believed in short cuts—by the sword. He was beginning to show a vast contempt for financial and industrial masters, and now that he had been able to delude them into helping him, in Germany, in America, and in England and France, he was a powerful military force. Behind him, he had the Junkers. He had the mass of the German people, who could never understand the subtleties of the new geo-politics, and wanted excitement and murder and force and blood. Pipsqueaks love violence. Hitler was the emperor of all the pipsqueaks all over the world, not only in Germany.’

  ‘In short—?’ murmured Regan.

  ‘In short, he wanted war. For its own sake. Modern geopolitics was slower and safer, and had for its object the complete subjugation of the markets and the finances of the world. That isn’t enough for a pipsqueak. He wanted triumphal arches, cowering slave-states, trumpets, banners, thrones and crowns—all the paraphernalia of operative military conquest. He wanted the visible signs of conquest. It wasn’t enough for the conquerors to sit urbanely in international banks. He wanted to march into capitals through a sea of blood. He wanted to be God, not the protector of bankers and industrialists and all the chromium-plated machinery of dull commerce and profits. There would be no exultation among the German pipsqueak-mass if their own bankers and industrialists could lyrically explain that they had driven America and England out of the typewriter, the aeroplane, the manufacturing and the financial markets of the world. What did that net the average German in his miserable office, and on his little farm? He wanted other clerks and other farmers to kiss his feet, hail him as superman, cower before him, serve him, while he trampled them. That is the true German psychology, which we overlooked while we dallied with Schacht. That is the German brute-like spirit—the hatred for all other men, the desire to physically gouge them, crush them, whip them, torture them, kill them. And that’s what we’re up against now. The German spirit.’

  ‘And, now you’re left with a fine economic machinery on your hands—and Hitler, and the German people.’

  ‘Yes. That is where I now rise and let someone kick me in the backside. And I imagine that hundreds of others like me, all over the world, are rising for well-placed kicks, too. For, we can’t do business with Hitler.’

  ‘What, then, do you intend to do?’

  Henri got up and slowly walked up and down the vast room. Light struck his large pale face, and then shadow. His step was heavy. Then he stopped before Regan’s desk, leaned his hands on it, and said quietly:

  ‘We’ll have to let Europe go. Hitler will strike soon. We know that. We‘ll have to let Europe go—to him. We can do nothing else. We’ve brought it about—all of us. But, we can cut our losses, and salvage what we can. In America. In South America. A bad business. But we have no other choice.’ ‘And how do you expect to accomplish that, my dear Henri?’ Regan smiled sombrely.

  ‘By making ourselves too strong for attack. Hitler won’t attack us, when he finds that it will be too costly a struggle. But—we can’t have war. That will ruin us all. It will be the end of capitalism and industry as we know them today. There will be an internal economic revolution in America, as well as bloodshed and bankruptcy, if we go to war. In the meantime, while we regain our own strength, which we lost through American god-damned sentimental disarmament ideas, we’ve got to support England and France, make them strong enough to resist Hitler for a little while, at least. We can’t do business with Hitler. We can’t have war, either. We’ve got to become strong enough to resist both the doing-business-with-Hitler idea, and the warmongers.’ He smiled suddenly, and lifted his hands from Regan’s desk.

  ‘So,’ he continued, ‘I’ve given orders to all our subsidiaries to cut sharply all shipments of material to Hitler, and to our banks to stop German credit. We’ve got to hurry. Time is of the essence, now.’

  Regan rubbed his chin. ‘Patriotism, of course, has nothing to do with this?’

  Henri ignored this as an absurd joke between them. ‘We’ve been had,’ he repeated. ‘Our noble defender against Communism, against organized labour all over the world, has kicked us solidly and is thumbing his nose at us. We ought to have had more intelligence, before we got ourselves, and America, and England and France, into this confounded mess. We didn’t have the intelligence. Now, we must salvage what we can. We made Hitler. Now he’s stalking us with the very arms we gave him to defend us.’

  He paused. ‘As you know, we’ve long had another plan, which apparently isn’t doing so well since Munich. We thought we’d turn Hitler’s militarism against Russia. After all we thought reasonably, that’s what he really hated, wasn’t it? Russia? Russia was his enemy, and ours. Russia, with her damnable proletarian revolution. Another form of pipssqueakism. The rise of the Common Man. We had to prevent that. Now, I’ve lost hope that Hitler will leave Europe alone, and attack Russia. We’re all in it.’

  There was a long silence in the room, while the two men stared at each other sombrely. Then Regan said:

  ‘You know, I don’t think it is going to work, Henri. I think we’ll be in the war, too.’

  Henri struck his fist solidly on the desk. ‘No,’ he said, grimly. ‘We won’t. We won’t allow it. We’ve already made plans. That would be the final ruin—for us. American wareconomy would be so colossal that we’d be destroyed. It would give Roosevelt his strongest chance to overthrow us, and bring about a form of socialism in America, in which our present system of profits, capitalism and industry, couldn’t survive. We “economic royalists,” as he has so nicely designated us, would find ourselves taken over, controlled, regulated, and put out of business. That’s why we can’t have war—for America. Our masters would be the American pipsqueak-masses, the common man, the little miserable clerk and farmer and factory fellaheen, the bellowing unions.’

  Regan put his hand over his mouth, and spoke in a muffled tone from behind his fingers. ‘And your large family, Henri—what is their attitude?’

  ‘They don’t want war, either. We’re all agreed on that. We won’t allow it, any of us. But—they disagree with me on the idea that we can’t do business with Hitler. They think we can. They’ve got a ver
y clever idea, which I confess at first appealed to me. They have long believed that Big Business can move from the control of industry and finance to actual power over the destiny of the people. They are willing to concede, as benevolent autocrats, certain privileges and benefits to the masses, but are determined on supreme power for themselves in politics, to gain not only the sphere of influence in America, but international control of raw materials all over the world—their manufacture, distribution and allocation. In other words, the revolution of business managers. As I said that once appealed to me, too. I had no objection,’ and he smiled wisely, ‘to being economic dictator of the whole damned world.

  ‘They, the Bouchards, believed that no matter what happened in Europe, they could strike a bargain with Hitler. They said that he simply couldn’t “do without them.” They believe we can buy a dozen Goerings. So, they wished to continue to supply Hitler with everything he wanted, through cartels in South America, and have been building up sentiment for Germany, encouraging native fascists and appeasers, and are busy with plans for the creating of various peace societies all over the country. They are incredulous when I tell them about the ancient German geo-politics. They are obsessed with the idea that a Hitler-controlled Europe is our best guarantee against Communism in America, or radicalism, or New Dealism, or unionism. They laugh at me when I tell them that Hitler wishes the military and physical conquest of the world. Even if he did, they argue, his intelligent economists and financiers and industrialists would control him. So—they wish to keep up their financial and material support of him. He wants only Europe, they say. Let him have it, with our blessing.

  ‘But, I say that he wants the world. And I’m going to stop him. But not by war. I’ve put the brakes on our companies. We aren’t selling Hitler anything we need ourselves. We are keeping our patents and our new and innumerable processes at home.’

  ‘Then, Henri, you and your family are all determined on peace. But you are determined to make America strong so that Hitler can’t attack us physically. You aren’t interested in building up America. You think it unnecessary?’