"General MacArthur may not have wanted your help," Marshall said, "but General Bradley absolutely does. And I know that your small but heavily armored carriers are almost impervious to Japanese kamikaze attacks, which makes them immensely valuable at this time."
"When?" Truman asked, cutting off Marshall.
"In sixty days. Ninety at the most. If the Reds get wind of our intentions, they will expedite their march down the coast. We must get there first and leave the Russians outside Hong Kong."
Marshall was concerned. "Mr. President, we are planning the invasion of Honshu in a little more than three months. Because of the losses we've taken from the kamikazes and weather, we have barely enough transports now to complete our plans. If we skim off enough to take three divisions and their supplies to Hong Kong, I don't think they can be back to their staging areas in time. The invasion will have to be postponed."
"Or accelerated," Truman said softly, and watched as Marshall's face registered astonishment. "Here is what we will do," Truman said, turning back to Bevin. "General Marshall and General Bradley will determine whether we can land on Honshu sooner rather than later and free up the shipping. I agree with you, the war must be ended. The United States is growing wearier of this war far more quickly than I ever dreamed."
News of the existence of a list of prisoners had caused many relatives of missing Americans to hope for the best. Some had marched in the streets in favor of an end to the war. So far, they were a vocal minority, but Truman knew that another disaster like the Queen Elizabeth or the massacre at Kagoshima would increase their numbers to where they would be a force to be reckoned with.
Truman leaned forward and smiled in Bevin's face. "Now let's discuss the price of our cooperation."
Bevin laughed. "What do you want?"
"Britain will immediately support the idea of a homeland for Jews in Palestine and begin to act on that support."
Bevin pretended surprise. He had expected this sort of quid pro quo. "That is contrary to our current policy and will outrage the Arabs."
Truman smiled. "I don't give a damn about the Arabs. Congressional elections are coming in less than a year and presidential elections in two years after that. I wish to be reelected and so do you. My party represents an international focus, while the Republicans still harbor a large number of isolationists. Think about it. Who is more likely to be present with you in Europe to confront the Russians: Tom Dewey or me? The Republicans are against communism and Dewey is fairly forward-thinking, but other Republicans, Vandenberg for instance, would rather fight the Reds on the coasts of New Jersey. I am certain you would rather we confront them on the Elbe in Germany.
"Mr. Bevin, there are very few Arabs in America, and those who are here aren't particularly political, but there are many, many Jews. American Jews normally vote for my party, the Democrats. Giving in to the legitimate aspirations of European Jews for a homeland and keeping your earlier promises about it being in Palestine will help me get elected in '48. It's just that simple. You want Hong Kong and I want Palestine. If you agree, we will assist you in three months, not sooner. That might just give us time to invade Honshu and swing a sufficient number of transports south with your warships. Do we have an agreement?"
Bevin calculated his losses. The hell with both the Jews and the Arabs, he thought. More than either, Britain needed Hong Kong, and three months should be more than sufficient time. Even though most Englishmen knew that the days of empire were over, they wanted England to be the country making the decisions and setting the terms that would free her colonies. Fortunately, it was a myth that Great Britain was economically dependent on places such as Hong Kong and India. She wasn't.
Bevin conceded. "All right, but there are many Jews who do not wish to go to Palestine and instead wish to come to America. These you will take. Also, the opening of Palestine to Jewish immigration must be done in such a way that the Arabs will see your country as pushing and bullying us into doing it and thereby hate the United States and not us. We are dependent on their oil and need their goodwill to make it back economically. You may never be able to get petroleum from the Arabs in the future, however."
"That's acceptable," Truman said. In the world of politics, forever never occurred. Regardless of the rhetoric and the passion, today's enemies could easily become tomorrow's allies and vice versa. "The Arabs can keep their damned oil. We have more than enough for our needs."
Chapter 55
The commander of 528th's 1st Battalion, Maj. Jimmy Lee Redwald, was a little too flamboyant in his dress and mannerisms for Brig. Gen. John Monck's personal taste. Redwald casually ignored the unwritten prohibition on looking too much like an officer while in a combat area. His fatigues were always clean and pressed, and his boots shined. Since Redwald didn't have the rank to have anyone available as a valet, Monck presumed that the major did the laundry and spit-shining himself. Monck could think of several better ways to spend an evening.
Redwald also kept his major's insignia on the front of his helmet, although he did not use the shiny brass that would have drawn sniper fire from all across Japan. The major was infatuated with what he'd heard and read about the hard-driving George Patton in Europe. On occasion, Monck had reminded Redwald that Patton operated farther behind the front lines than a mere major did and was less likely to draw enemy fire. That little fact did not appear to impress the lanky Oklahoman.
On the positive side, Major Redwald's battalion was well run and the men seemed to respect their commander while tolerating his attempt at being colorful with quiet amusement. On balance, there were a lot worse officers and not that many better.
What the hell, Monck thought as he, Parker, Redwald, and Monck's driver drove toward Redwald's command post with their guard vehicles ahead and behind them. If being a show-off works for Redwald, who cares. "Jimmy Lee, who's this boy you're putting up for the Medal?"
"Didn't you get my report, General?"
"Of course I did and it reads quite well. But they all do, don't they? I know what it says, but what does it mean? Did he really dive on that grenade to save others, or was it some kind of fluke? As much as I'd like to have a Medal of Honor awarded to one of my men, the Medal's a precious thing and I want to know what's right before I endorse the report and send it on to division."
Monck's endorsement was but one of many steps before a Medal of Honor could be awarded to the dead medic, while a lack of an approval would kill it.
"I've been wondering that same thing since Ruger forwarded Lieutenant Morrell's report to me with his endorsement," Redwald said. "All I can say is no one really knows what went on in that poor boy's mind when he saw that grenade lying in front of him. Was he really trying to save his men or did he think he could smother it and save himself? Maybe he just plain stumbled while trying to get out of the way and fell on it despite himself. I really don't know and no one else does either. The only thing I do know is that the Wills boy is dead and two wounded men aren't, and all as a result of his actions. Ask the two wounded boys and they'll say Wills was Jesus Christ himself."
Monck agreed silently with Redwald's assessment. Neither officer would speak of another fact, that having a Medal of Honor winner under their command would mean an honor to the unit and some would rub off on Wills's superiors all the way up the chain of command.