And as Roosevelt told Joe Alsop one evening after far too many martinis,
“And, Joe, no fucking Supreme Court to push us back to the horse and buggy era, so you may have to revise your 168 Days. Mark my words, in Asia I have a completely free hand thanks to Nomura and the Japanese. And remember the Japanese had us completely by the balls—they were the pros and we were like high school players with leaky water buckets. Keep this to yourself, but the Japanese were far more generous than we would have been if we had such total mastery. I guess it must be the four thousand years of civilization that makes them so polite and civilized. And the Japanese are polite even when they are in complete control. You can imagine how boorish we Americans would be if we had such power. And compared to that drunk in London, the contrast is night and day; Churchill does not speak, he pontificates as if his words are direct from God. What a bore.”
33: Halifax’s New Job
Washington
Thursday, 19 February 1942
On the wet Thursday afternoon, immediately after lunch and a very large postprandial martini, Roosevelt took particular delight at breaking the news of the armistice with the Japanese to the British Prime Minister. At one stage in the proceedings, Churchill bellowed at the American President words to the effect that “Ambassador Halifax will take a very dim view on that point,” to which Roosevelt suavely replied,
“I am not so sure about that Winston, but you can ask him yourself as he is sitting in front of me now.”
That sentence told Churchill that his reign of drunken diatribes and ill-considered strategies (dating back to 1915) was over—the President had consulted with Churchill’s old rival before speaking to him. Even more important, Roosevelt had not even deigned it necessary to tell Churchill that Halifax was present in the Oval Office. Well, that had torn it.
“And with the recent understanding in Geneva and the cessation of hostilities between the Soviets and the Germans, well there is no need for us to provide any more war matériel or gold or credit. Actually, Winston, it makes no sense at all. You know in time you will come to an understanding with the Germans.”
Roosevelt looked at Halifax who in return slowly nodded.
After the call, Roosevelt said to the British ambassador,
“The Germans are extremely eager for an understanding with your country. I know I could broker that in a day. I take it that Churchill is the only roadblock?”
“Mr. President, you are correct. As you know I was considering the job myself, but I think the country needs more of a figurehead who is well liked. We could consider David Windsor.”
“Do you really think that would work? I don’t know much of the machinations of Westminster but the former King seems very unlikely to a Yank like me as PM: isn’t that extremely far-fetched?”
Roosevelt’s natural political instincts showed a very deep, visceral understanding of politics, regardless of the country. And Roosevelt realized with the impracticality of the suggestion that Halifax was weak and a man easily dominated.
Lord Halifax reluctantly agreed.
“But what if you take the PM job and David takes your job? Wouldn’t that work?”
Halifax said nothing.
“What is Windsor’s mood at the moment? And what about this wife, Wallis, right?”
Halifax ever so slightly winced at the mode of address; yes, David Windsor was a disgraced regent, but he still was a former King of England.
“I believe he is in good spirits, Mr. President.”
“So, Eddie, you take the PM job and send David here.”
Being referred to as “Eddie,” even by a personage as high as the President of the United States, did make Halifax’s blood boil.
Misreading Halifax’s response, Roosevelt added,
“What, don’t you want it?”
Halifax opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the American,
“So how do we actually do this—I mean I know how to do it here, but what are the mechanics in London?”
The effects of the double Scotch Halifax had poured himself when he served the President were finally taking effect, and the inadvertent crudeness of the President seemed somehow to be less grating. Halifax pondered.
“Well, Franklin, we would need a vote of no confidence. In times like this, that is easy to arrange. Um, a few choice snippets to Geoffrey to get into the Times.”
“Geoffrey?”
“Geoffrey Dawson, a pal of mine and just retired as editor of the Times, but he is still the force behind the paper.”
“So, Ed, where do we start? And who do you think as your deputy, Butler or Anthony? Who?”
Halifax shot back,
“Well, Rab is possible. Actually, Rab is completely suitable, but Anthony is equally unsuitable. ‘Half a mad baronet, and half a beautiful woman’ is what Rab calls Eden, and I am inclined to agree.”
Roosevelt roared with laughter.
“No, no, Anthony would be a complete disaster; you know, he actually paints his finger nails with clear nail polish?”
Roosevelt frowned, but before he could ask for an explanation, Halifax asked,
“Franklin, did you have anything to do with the Russian armistice?”
Roosevelt said that he did not.
“Pity. That could have been useful.”
“Wait just a second.”
Impetuous as always and without thinking, Roosevelt picked up the telephone and called the German Embassy, “Herr Schneider, please.”
After a moment, Schneider came on the line,
“Schneider, hello, it’s Franklin here. Look, I think I can get you a deal with the Brits, but we’re going to have to gild the lily a little. Look, you know Eddie Halifax, right? Well, he’s with me now and he thinks—and I agree—that we can change the London government to a more, how shall I say, friendly one, if we put it about that the Oval was involved in the settlement with you and the Soviets. Is that reasonable to you?”
Schneider said it was.
Roosevelt said, “Great, leave it to me and Eddie.”
At the embassy, Schneider put down the phone and looked at a naked Louise on the couch, her long, long legs draped along the length of the couch wearing nothing but her favorite pair of nude high heels. (Schneider, like so many other men, loved sex with a woman wearing nothing but heels.)
“Who was that?” she asked.
“You would not believe me if I told you.”
“OK, Eddie, the game’s afoot,” the President said.
34: Rab’s Delight
London
Friday, 20 February 1942
The government whips looked nervous as the division was called. Their nervousness was well justified—the government was short a staggering 102 votes. Earlier that day, the MPs—and indeed all of educated England—had read in the Times an account of the tireless and strenuous efforts of the American president in securing the peace accord between the Germans and the Soviets, and how the Germans had first resisted the entreaties of the American president as the Germans were is such an overwhelmingly strong position, but, finally, the Germans had come around.
But, it was on page three that the phantasy of Churchill’s reputation as the savior of democracy was destroyed. An article, based on information supplied by the Swiss and Swedish Red Cross organizations, listed the details of the gruesome discoveries in the Katyn forest in Poland. Even the Anglican churchmen—ever the bedrock of the British Establishment—were making noises about the “Soviet Massacre,” as it came to be known.
As the roll was called, Churchill stormed from the chamber, an act as imperious as it was insulting.
Rab Butler, who detested Churchill, enjoyed the ultimate pleasure in visiting Number 10 later that afternoon with the message that Butler had personally arranged for Halifax to return to “help the country recover from the insanity you have put it through.” Butler simply laughed as Churchill screamed at him from the top of the stairs at Number 10, as Colville tried to restrain his boss.
“You are a half-American bankrupt whore who should have been shot after Gallipoli. I am here to reclaim the post for a rational and reasonable, pure Englishman.”
After his mocking, Rab left. Churchill turned to his often-abused secretary, and said,
“Jock, it’s not true. Tell me it’s not true. Please.”
Colville drew in his breath, and slowly said, “Well, sir, I am afraid it is true.”
The next day witnessed one of the most astonishing events in the long life of the oldest parliament—the new Deputy Prime Minister, Rab Butler, sought a meeting with the King to seek permission to form a new government, as Prime Minister Elect Halifax would not land at Heston until that evening.
The King was not informed that his elder brother would replace Halifax in Washington—“the King is a very busy man, and I did not want to bother him with the minutiae of the democratic process,” Butler would remark later to Halifax over whiskies when Halifax was comfortably ensconced in his new residence at Downing Street.
Epilogue
One of the most telling of all photos taken in the early post-European war period was snapped by a young Life photographer on an early May morning in the Rose Garden.
Glorious bright sunlight, so loved by photographers the world over, streamed down on the White House, the primrose yellow of the roses contrasted so perfectly with the green of the lawn mowed the previous day for the benefit of the mob of photographers.
And there in the middle of the lawn, looking very bonny, and almost smug, stood the heads of state and their wives: Franklin Roosevelt, President of the United States of America; on his left, Albert Speer, the new Reich Chancellor; Nobusuke Kishi, Prime Minister of Japan; and on his right, Lord Halifax, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
Nervously fiddling behind Albert was David Windsor, the British Ambassador to the United States, who had less than six weeks life remaining—he was assassinated leaving the Cafe Royale in London by three officers of the Grenadier Guards still loyal to Churchill. After shooting the former king, the three politely waited for the police and to be arrested; the start of a rebellion Rab Butler was to so brutally—and successfully—suppress.
David’s wife, having once been denied the throne, was again bitterly denied the limelight she so adored. On this glorious May day, the smoke still rose from the English Oval cigarette reluctantly dropped by the new British Prime Minister at the insistence of the young Life photographer.
The overall impression was of three very satisfied men.
The End
Bibliography
While obviously a work of fiction, the history is accurate.
This brief bibliography lists some of the more useful books and authors. All books mentioned are available on online.
In addition, both YouTube and Wikipedia are useful—the Yokohama sword story is based on a YouTube video.
This list is not meant to be complete and comprehensive, but it does cover some of the major points.
Finally, I would like to thank Dean Lekos whose tireless fact-checking and proof-reading removed countless errors; the errors that remain are due to me alone.
Shlaes, Amity. The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression. New York: HarperCollins, 2007. This novel is inspired by The Forgotten Man, by Amity Shlaes. In fact, the seven words of the dedication are based on the first paragraph of the introduction to Shlaes’s book. The Forgotten Man destroys many myths and shibboleths and as such it is highly recommended.
I happened on this book from a review in the Economist. Before reading this book, I had the standard-issue regular commonsense view: the naughty and wicked Republicans caused the Great Depression, helped largely in part by the boozy excesses of the Twenties—flappers, Jay Gatsby, and all that; then the wonderful FDR saved the day.
Unfortunately, this view conveniently ignored all the facts, such as the Chicago School aphorism that all bubbles are monetary bubbles: the Dow’s rise from 200 to 381 between Spring 1927 and Summer 1929 was caused solely by the Fed’s printing presses; and the disaster of 1937—the infamous Depression Within A Depression—was caused by the ill-advised Excess Profits tax, much along the lines of the today’s policies of “Super Tax The 1%” (France has already implemented this. Plus ça change...).
A survey a few years ago showed that of 900 college history teachers surveyed in the U.S., 830 were registered Democrats; it’s likely Europe is even more unbalanced. With this bias, it is very unlikely that the truth will ever be told about “the wise old bird” (Roosevelt’s self-serving description of himself).
The photographs Rex shows Louise are depicted in Shlaes’s book.
Tooze, J. Adam. The Wages of Destruction: The Making and Breaking of the Nazi Economy. New York: Viking, 2007. This book is seminal—most of the thousands of books about the Second World War in Europe speak in terms of battles and armies, and mostly focusing on the wrong battles at that (the five leading battles were all on Russian territory).
Tooze’s book is how all history should be written—starting with the most important aspect first, namely the money. This is the major theme of The Goddess—Sasaki’s printing press, etc. Wages is both engrossing and well written. The Notes section alone is pure gold dust. Wages suggests the obvious question: how did the Third Reich survive until 1945? It certainly wasn’t because of the leadership from the top. It is clear that Germany could have won had Jodl, Model, Rundstedt, et al, done the strategic planning rather than the mad-cap Alice-in-Wonderland nonsense that actually occurred. It’s one thing to be an opportunist, it’s another thing to confuse beginner’s luck with professional acumen, and very short-lived luck at that (Greece in summer 1941 was the Austrian’s last victory).
Keegan, John. The First World War. New York: A. Knopf, 1999. All books by the late John Keegan are a pleasure to read; his book on the World War I is no exception. The description of terror and misery of the British soldiers during the Somme is an abstraction from this book. (I was in Bermuda three years ago and read a gravestone in a Hamilton churchyard for a soldier who died on August 15, 1916, “From wounds received on the river Somme.”)
Beevor, Antony. The Spanish Civil War. New York: P. Bedrick, 1983. Fat Herman’s double-dealing via the Bramhill is described in Beevor’s book, as is the description of the horrors of the Lincoln Brigade, and the Battle of Brunete.
Manchester, William. The Arms of Krupp. Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1968. Jodl’s comments of 1870 are based on Manchester’s description of the effects of the rifled cast steel Krupp cannon, as is the presence of the two American generals. (Burnside and Sheridan are changed to Sherman and Sheridan—better alliteration.)
The Kaiser’s horror-filled evening in 1901 is described in detail by Manchester; Jules Verne’s submarine is converted to a space ship, “the engine is constructed of the finest steel in the world, cast ‘by Krupp in Prussia.’ “
Heller, Anne Conover. Ayn Rand and the World She Made. New York: Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2009. This book is an extremely interesting description of Ayn Rand and her acolytes. It is the basis of Speer’s visit to Barcelona. The train conversation is based on two likely candidates for the U.S. Presidency in 2016; I will let the reader deduce who they are; there are more than sufficient hints.
Other Sources
The Esquire article is F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Crack-Up” (Esquire, February, March, and April 1936). I learned of this from a quote in a John le Carré novel—Smiley is asked by Roy Bland, “who said ‘the test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time?’” The article is available online.
The Confederate one hundred dollar bill was bought on eBay for six U.S. dollars; good Union money.
Senator Beveridge’s 1900 speech is quoted verbatim and the complete speech is available online.
“Tim” is, of course, the English traitor Harold Adrian Russell “Kim” Philby.
Secretary of War Henr
y Stimson’s diaries are quoted verbatim.
Morgenthau’s notes, quoted verbatim, are from his appearance in front of the House Ways and Means Committee in May 1939.
“Cigar” and “The Diplomat” were nicknames of Curtis LeMay, Milch’s counterpart.
The “hairy hand in the ice bowl” is taken from a description of Lord Beaverbrook.
A “damn close run” is a slight misquoting of Wellington’s comment on Waterloo.
“{W}here bed and boys were also not expensive” is from Michael Holroyd’s Lytton Strachey: A Critical Biography, London: Heinemann, 1967.
The “ovaries rattling” quote is from the Austrian’s driver, commenting about Magda Goebbels.
The Caudillo’s mortgage plan is actually the HUD dictate, starting in 1992, to direct 30% of Fannie Mae’s and Freddie Mac’s mortgages to borrowers who were at or below the median income in their communities—the start of “Cov-lite.” It ended at 55% in 2007; what happened next is now ancient history.
“Whole thing goes arse over tit” is from the book A Bridge Too Far, describing a glider’s landing on soft ground.
“I don’t want to have to eat a broomstick” was a boast from the Reichsmarshall that “If any enemy bomber ever attacks Germany then I will eat a broomstick.”
Tex Wheeler and his much-displayed gold watch, a gift from Prisoner Number 1 at Nuremburg, are transposed to Hawaii.
ARB
About the Author
Originally from Melbourne, Australia, Andrew Blencowe discovered at an early age what it was like to live on the edge of life. During his high school years he dropped out to become a motorcycle racer. Smitten by computers in his early twenties, he went on to become founder and CEO of an international software company with offices on five continents. It is his international perspective and a drive to challenge assumptions that influence his writing interests.
The Goddess Of Fortune Page 30