The Goddess Of Fortune

by Andrew Blencowe

  Susan very deliberately waited for Wallis’ response. Wallis, as American herself, knew that American dinner guests could be expected to be this blunt and forward—the never-ending circumlocutions of the English in London always drove Wallis to distraction. And Wallis could sense the direction in which the conversation was moving.

  “Of course, I’ve often told David this, but he’s too blinded by loyalty, and he’s far too loyal to his brother.”

  “I have it on good authority that Mr. Churchill threatened your husband with prison if he ever returns to England.”

  Wallis said nothing, but looked very directly at Susan.

  “Your source of information is very good for a reporter. I don’t mean this as an insult, but most of the male reporters I knew in Baltimore were simply hacks, and drunk hacks at that.”

  “Well, as you know, New York is the heart of the American empire and, as it happens, I grew up in Switzerland, so I have close contacts in Europe.”

  “I see,” Wallis replied, clearly seeing more.

  “So, Mr. Churchill and his clique and their antics are well known to knowledgeable Americans, and Europeans as well, Lady Wallis.”

  Like most Americans, Susan easily got confused with the confusing titles of the English aristocracy; it had taken Wallis over three years to master the arcane subject.

  Wallis looked at Susan and asked, “What do you mean about clique?”

  “Well, it’s known in some circles in New York, and in Washington, too, that without massive American aid, Britain will be in for a very rough time.”

  “The Germans could start a second blitz—they’ve already liberated France.”

  At the word “liberated,” Wallis looked at her companion very closely. Wallis was aware that reporters made the best agents for intelligences services as they have a natural cover for asking so many questions.

  “And with the change of leadership in Germany last September, the Germans are now doing very, very well in Russia, at least that’s what the few Foreign Office cables David is sent are saying.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but were that to happen, and if Germany was to become a new ally to the USA, Britain would be in a jam.”

  “But why would Germany help out America, even if it could?”

  Susan moved close to Wallis and touched her arm very lightly.

  Wallis pursed her lips and said, “Go on.”

  “I am going to trust you and explain how you, you personally, can return to center stage. And this time, you will be in control.”

  At this, James the native head servant came and opened the doors at the far end of the veranda. Slowly and solemnly, he walked to Wallis, and with extreme diffidence asked if the ladies needed anything, a shawl or something, as it was getting chilly.

  “No, we’re fine. Thank you, James; that will be all for this evening.”

  James left. Wallis drank more of the wretched South African sherry, and a warm glow started.

  “So I am going to put my trust in you, Mrs. Windsor,” Susan went on.

  “The Germans remember your visit with great affection and look forward to seeing you very soon. The late Chancellor liked and admired you and your husband. He saw something of himself in you, as he told me himself.”

  “You are being very trusting, aren’t you Susan?”

  “Perhaps, but I think we can both gain from what I am about to suggest.”

  The only sound came from the rain. Susan had played her hand and it was time to see the response from Wallis.

  Wallis was quiet and then said,

  “Yes, we met him in Germany in ‘36 at his mountain house, and they do seem like the natural leaders of the new order in Europe.”

  “Wallis, let me assure you—and I have this from the highest authority in Germany—that they have no desires on Britain. It’s completely natural for the world to be divided into spheres of influence. This is the natural order of things. And with an armistice between Germany and Britain, well, one condition could be David’s return to the throne.”

  “But why would Germany want David back as king?”

  Wallis suspected she knew all too well, but wanted to hear it directly from Susan.

  “Well, Wallis, it’s not the English, but it’s the Americans.”

  Wallis looked at Susan and a thrill of excitement coursed through her—perhaps it was the cheap sherry.

  Susan continued,

  “It’s clear, actually—the current clique lead by Churchill would have to go and the more rotten and decayed elements that could be removed, the better it would be for both Germany and Britain.”

  At this moment, the obese wife of the American chargé d’affaires appeared and urged both of them to return to the warmth of the lounge. Wallis shooed the cow away with a warm and wonderful smile.

  The moment the wife had been dispatched, Wallis said with true warmth,

  “Susan, I am so glad you accepted the invitation.”

  Susan then accelerated the pace,

  “France is beaten; Britain is barely surviving. Mr. Churchill is unpopular at home and abroad. The Germans have offered peace terms to Britain on three separate occasions through intermediaries, two Swedes and a Swiss. The Germans do not want to see Britain damaged. If this mad war drags on, Britain will become a pauper, and we Americans would not like to see that.”

  What makes most sense is for Germany and Britain to join forces.”

  Susan’s eyes sparkled as he explained this to Wallis.

  Wallis, your husband is a wonderful man who was cruelly abused.

  “He’s a weak fool with a small brain, and not overly endowed elsewhere.”

  Susan ignored this and said,

  “This makes it so easy for you to regain for him his rightful place and your rightful place—Wallis Windsor, Queen of England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland.”

  “Well, that sounds all well and good, but I am stuck on this God-forsaken island with my dogs and that’s about it.”

  Susan went on, “The first step is for you to consider the Germans’ proposition, which I can tell you Mr. Roosevelt likes as well.”

  “Consider it? There is nothing to consider; I’d crawl on my hands and knees to get back to London as a somebody.”

  “Good, then this is what you and I need do to get this started.”

  They sat down at the white wrought iron table—the rain was increasing and the cold was increasing, but neither cared.

  31: Brooke’s Announcement

  Washington

  Tuesday, 17 February 1942

  It has been said, “In Victory: Magnanimity.” And this was never more true than by the behavior of the Japanese ambassador on this cold February Tuesday when he spoke to the small coterie in the Oval Office of the President of the United States of America. Like the other meetings, this one was held in absolute secrecy. In attendance were Admiral King; Secretary of War, Henry Stimson; the President of the United States, Franklin Roosevelt; and the Japanese Ambassador to the United States, Kichisaburō Nomura.

  Twelve hours earlier, the President had received an evening call from the other side of the Atlantic on the scrambler telephone. He was surprised to hear the sober voice of Field Marshal Brooke. Roosevelt had meet Brooke twice before and had immediately liked the man—Brooke was the antithesis of his master: sober, polite and thoughtful. Roosevelt had commented to Stimson that he understood how the British could hang on with the likes of Brooke in charge.

  Brooke said he was sorry to bother the President but he had been asked to call the President to tell him of the surrender of Singapore to forces of the Empire of Japan. Roosevelt feigned surprise about the rapid collapse of the supposedly impregnable fortress. It was clear from Brooke’s tone that Roosevelt was not alone in his surprise. While it was three in the morning for Brooke he sounded completely awake and alert. From the depths of the room, Roosevelt could hear the Prime Minister’s loud and sometimes violent shouting, which the Field Marshal tried to do his best to
ignore and to hide from his listener. There was a long pause and then the familiar voice of the Prime Minister was on the line. As he later said to King and Stimson, he had never heard the Prime Minister so drunk. Churchill’s ramblings were a bizarre mixture of maudlin and threatening, the low point of which was when Churchill said,

  “I know personally from Marshal Stalin—that he told me—himself to me, to me, personally to me—he has plans to retake Alaska and that you need me to talk him out of it.”

  When Roosevelt told King and Stimson of this, King simply shook his head.

  “That pompous drunk has no place in high office; he has to go, and go sooner rather than later,” was Stimson’s only comment.

  In the meeting in the now-familiar Oval Office, King kept his professional admiration in check, but Roosevelt was more forthcoming,

  “Mr. Nomura, I have to congratulate your country on the surprising events of yesterday.”

  Nomura thanked the President.

  “Well, Mr. President, it was a hard and tough battle, and we were very fortunate and our tough opponents, the British, were very unlucky.

  The four men knew the reality was very different from this modest statement. The reality was that the Japanese had been outnumbered by three-to-one: 35,000 Japanese troops to 115,000 British troops. And the British had all the benefits of defense. The classic ratio was four-to-one in favor of defense—according to von Clausewitz, an attacker needs four times as many troops as the defender.

  But, all during the hot December of ‘41, the Japanese troops in Malaya made daring raids, often using the Malay jungle as an ally. The British commanders—all safely cocooned and pampered and perfumed in distant Singapore—considered the jungle in Malaya to be horrible, hateful and impenetrable, in spite of the Japanese repeatedly using it to outflank them. All though that hot and humid December, the Japanese bicycle infantry rode south, often times on just the rims of their bicycles—the tires on their bicycles having all been punctured, so the Japanese troops simply cut off and discarded the tires. The noise of the Japanese bicycle infantry clattering along the cobble stone roads on the bicycles’ steel rims terrified their enemy, especially during those hot and still summer nights.

  Once at the causeway that linked Singapore to Malaya, the Japanese commander Yamashita made the Sultan’s palace at the tip of Malaya his headquarters, and from it he could very clearly see the British troop dispersal on the island of Singapore. By now, the Japanese were masters at flexible, modern mobile warfare, while the British commanders’ dogma was still stuck in the mud of the Western Front of the Great War.

  Low on supplies and ammunition, Yamashita was contemplating withdrawing. But, rolling the dice—as all truly great commanders do—Yamashita sent a message to the British and called on the British General Percival to “give up this meaningless and desperate resistance to save further bloodshed.”

  What Yamashita did not know at the time was that the complete air supremacy of the Japanese over the skies of Singapore had terrified the local population and much of this fear had quickly seeped into the troops themselves. Once the troops caught the fear, both civilian and military discipline collapsed—very soon, drunken allied troops were looting stores and deserting in droves. The deplorable behavior of the British troops had been reported to Stimson by cables from the American chargé d’affaires in Singapore since early February. The phantasy of the superiority of the British army evaporated in a trice—they were seen for what they really were: pompous, hide-bound and useless.

  Nomura politely asked if the Secretary of War had received any reports of any “events” as he called it by Japanese forces against any American troops or ships.

  Stimson said,

  “I have heard nothing. Admiral King, have you had any reports?”

  King shook his head.

  Then Nomura raised, as delicately as he could, the purpose of his visit.

  “Mr. President, Mr. Stimson, Admiral King, my government is most anxious to put the recent past behind us. As you know, there are many of us who were horrified by the events of last December, and for this monstrous mistake I can tell you that we are extremely sorry. And I can assure you the hotheads in Tokyo now are no longer in power.”

  Roosevelt said,

  “Ambassador Nomura, that is all well and good, but the fact of the matter is you have blood—American blood—on your hands. We’re not talking about a Ruben James here with one hundred sailors, but a massive death toll; many American people are still baying for blood. Now, they have calmed a little but vengeance is still sought by many.”

  While literally true, Roosevelt had to walk a very fine line—with the fall of Singapore, the Japanese now effectively controlled all of Asia, and all four men knew that America was powerless to do anything about it, at least not for two years.

  After a pause, Roosevelt asked, “So what do you suggest?”

  The reply was painfully long in coming.

  “Well, Mr. President, my Emperor is extremely concerned to protect the honor of the United States. This is his first and only concern. It is the honor of your country, so it has been suggested to my Emperor that the Japanese ring leaders of this callous attack be put on trial for all the world to see, and hear with radio broadcasts, in neutral Switzerland in a specially convened court consisting of an American judge, a Japanese judge, and a Swiss judge. This court’s verdict would need a simple majority, and the government of my Emperor is willing to accept any punishment.”

  Stimson asked, “Any punishment?”

  Nomura nodded.

  “Ambassador, thank you for your visit, I think it’s time we discussed your suggestion,” Roosevelt said.

  Nomura rose, bowed, and left.

  “Get me a drink, will you Henry and get one for yourself and Ernie.”

  Roosevelt sipped his martini and looking at his drink remarked, “This is about the last pleasure left to me, you know.”

  “Well, there we have it. I mean we have completely underestimated the Japanese all along. And as the events of the past days have shown, we’re not the only ones.”

  Stimson added, “The biggest mistake we made was that fucking oil embargo. We knew it would hurt them, but who would have thought that they would be so effective in their fucking response—just the Hawaiian fiasco and we could have gotten by. OK, by the skin of our teeth, but add the Canal and San Diego and that fucking rubber fire and the Canadian trains and the attacks on the trestles bridges. Jesus Christ, the list is endless. And frankly, I am shocked by Singapore.”

  King added thoughtfully, “And Nomura seems a natural ally. Yes, he is duplicitous, but what politician isn’t? No offense, Mr. President.”

  Roosevelt smiled, “None taken—it comes with the territory, Ernie.”

  Roosevelt requested another drink and then said,

  “And let’s be realistic: we cannot mount an offensive and we can’t really mount a defense. With Singapore as a base, the Japanese can take the Philippines any time they like. And an attack on war ships is one thing, but losing an American possession like the Philippines, then Christ, that would make Hawaii pale by comparison.”

  “I discussed with Henry Morgenthau my idea of a Super-NIRA for Asia and he told me something very interesting: Jacob Schiff, through Kuhn, Loeb on Wall Street, actually financed Japan in 1904 with a loan of 200 million dollars for their war against the Russians. With this money the Japanese were able to buy munitions and war materiel. Of course, Schiff hated the Russians because of their never-ending pogroms. Well, it’s just a thought but we could do the same in Asia. Why, we can even build dirigibles to fly from California.”

  The odd mention of airships confused Stimson and King until Roosevelt explained,

  “You may not know this but I was running a dirigible company that planned to establish a service from New York to Chicago. It was an idea before its time, but it has more merit today than ever before. And with a partnership with the Japanese, why I could even restart that business.”
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  After a pause to let this idea sink in, Roosevelt said, “Anyway, let’s sleep on it and meet tomorrow.”

  In reality, the decision had been made by a pronoun: when Roosevelt referred to Nomura’s suggestion on a pan-Asia NIRA as “my idea,” the old snake had inadvertently shown his hand.

  But the scheduled meeting with Nomura was preempted by another shock.

  32: The Burning And Third Manassas

  Washington

  Wednesday, 18 February 1942

  At precisely 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday, the German ambassador’s secretary rang Miss Tully and asked for an appointment for the German ambassador to see the President of the United States, “on a matter of extreme urgency.” As the German ambassador was known to be quiet and modest and normally never made any stronger requests than for a second glass of champagne at the interminable round of diplomatic parties, Miss Tully immediately penciled in the appointment for 10 a.m. that morning.

  The ambassador arrived accompanied by a rather sharp-eyed individual by the name of Schneider.

  The two men were shown into the Oval Office where they were greeted by the President and Secretary Stimson.

  “How can I help you, gentlemen?” asked the President as he sat behind his desk in his wheelchair.

  It was Schneider who spoke as his English was perfect; the elderly ambassador had wisely decided that the message was so important that translation errors had to be avoided at all costs.

  “Well, sir, Mr. President, we want to inform you and Mr. Stimson that my country and the Soviets have earlier today been meeting in Geneva and are speaking about the possibilities of discussing arrangements and the extended modalities for a potential armistice.”

  In spite of the painfully convoluted language, the last word jumped out at Roosevelt and Stimson, but both man said nothing.

  “After our country’s tragic loss this past September, there have been certain, how shall I say, ‘rearrangements’ made, whereby General Jodl and Field Marshal Milch have made significant military, as well as political changes. Chief among the military changes is what we Germans are calling the new Brest-Litovsk-Kiev-Crimea line. I have it here on a map. If I may, sir?”