More B-29’s marked for less peaceful missions touched down on British airfields loaded with A-bombs as Operation Top Hat was put into effect.
And then the British Parliament was stunned by a couple of fiery speeches by the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary. In cold anger seldom heard in the ancient Commons, the British lion, minus a few of the old teeth but none the less still potent, said bluntly that tampering with British rights in Berlin meant war.
This powerful reaction from the West gave the Kremlin reason to re-evaluate. The Russian troops in Berlin suddenly melted away and with open-armed benevolence for the “sake of world peace,” they invited Western missions to come to Moscow and talk over a Berlin settlement.
Chapter Six
A STAFF CAR DROVE Hansen between a pair of whitewashed brick pillars, down a gravel-top road that was flanked by young hedge and bisected an orange grove, and continued to a bluff that hovered above the Pacific Ocean. Along the bluff rambled a California Spanish-style house.
When Hiram and Martha Jane Stonebraker greeted him, he thought how wonderful they both looked. Deep healthy tans had erased the signs of fatigue that came with the constant pressure of duty.
They showed him around the layout with obvious pride. The Stonebrakers had four acres which ran from the highway to the bluff and included a beach below. The land held an orchard, a small corral with horses for the general and visiting children and grandchildren, and an extensive garden for Martha Jane. It was located near the Ventura County line at the end of Malibu strip. The Malibu movie colony was fifteen miles away with only a few ranches between them and the nearest settlement.
Hansen saw it all with a twinge of envy. He and Agnes had never known this kind of peace and he wondered if such a place was ever in the cards for them. He had misgivings for his mission of taking Crusty away from it.
Hours were needed to fill each other in on old comrades and the situation in Germany. They sat the afternoon out on a patio which stood at the far edge of the bluff where it sloped gently to the shore and was covered with a wild array of multicolored pelargoniums. The tide was out and they could see the rock-filled surf surging ever so gently.
As the sun moved behind them, M.J. brought cocktails and sweaters so they could enjoy the last sharp contrast of sea and sky.
“How do the days go here?”
“I take a horseback ride on the beach every morning, summer and winter, check out the orchard and stable. And ... I’ve got a bit of correspondence and a lot of reading.”
“Ever get a yearning to be back in harness?”
“Hell no. Chip, I made more money last year as an advisor to private industry than I ever made in uniform in a year. Seems I know a thing or two after all. I have been invited to sit on the board of two airlines to develop their freight services ... if I wanted to work that hard.”
“It’s good to see you like this.”
“It took a long long time to get here and it’s only for a short stay.”
The light failed and the breeze became stiffer. They walked toward the house. “I’ve got a boat at the cove about five miles down the highway. Let’s go fishing tomorrow.”
During dinner, Hansen continued to avoid the purpose of the visit. M.J. was suspicious and sent out a number of indirect questions.
After dinner, the two men settled in Crusty’s study. The room was filled with mementoes of the Hump and photographs and gifts of presidents and kings and grandchildren.
“Okay, Chip, let’s have it.”
“I brought some papers with me that I want you to study and give an opinion on.”
“About this Berlin situation?”
He nodded. “We are committing ourselves to supply Berlin by air.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough to take the pressure off negotiations. Forty-five days ... sixty. Talks are starting in Moscow next week and it could end sooner than that.”
“And if negotiations collapse?”
“We will have to supply the Western Sectors indefinitely.”
Crusty Stonebraker, who once insisted on air corridors to Berlin, showed no sign of emotion. The reports would reveal the situation accurately. “I’d better get started reading.”
Hansen could see from his bedroom across the patio to Crusty Stonebraker’s study. The light burned until very late and on several occasions Crusty paced the patio bundled up in an old flying jacket looking out to the sea as if hoping to find mystical answers coming in with the tide.
Breakfast the next morning was in silence. Crusty grunted through the meal and said, “Let’s go fishing.”
They drove in a jeep down the highway and turned off onto a eucalyptus-lined road that ran down to the ocean. The sun was trying to force its way through the morning fog as they parked at the foot of a long wooden pier.
The Betty-Lee, a rock-cod sportsfishing boat, was just pulling away filled with half-asleep anglers.
Crusty grabbed the tackle box and poles and they walked down the pier to the bait shop.
“Morning, General.”
“Morning, Bob. Where are they hitting?”
“You can jig or troll for bonita.”
“Got a freezerful waiting to be smoked.”
“Yesterday the half-day boat came in with a dozen good size halibut at Trancas and the bass were going crazy right in front of your place. I’ll run you out to your boat.”
They took the stairs that ran down the pilings to a floating platform dock and got into the skiff and putted out to where the M.J., a practical and stout twenty-six-foot cabin cruiser, was moored.
The dock hand helped pull the canvas cover back, held the skiff fast while the two men transferred, and pulled away calling, “I’ll wait for you at the bait receiver, General.”
Crusty went about the business of blowing out the bilge, checking the hose fittings and levels, starting, warming up, connecting the live-bait tank. The M.J. showed that its owner was obviously a man of great knowledge in the science of the proper use of space.
Hansen cast off the painter and Stonebraker pulled alongside the bait receiver, handling the boat with the sure touch of an old barnstorming pilot. They took on a scoop of anchovies and headed out of Paradise Cove.
Chip Hansen fixed the poles with halibut leaders as they turned Point Dume, ran up the coast awhile, and began a drift on the edge of the kelp beds.
They sat with their lines in the water for several moments. Crusty pulled in a calico bass, put it into the gunny sack, and studied the horizon. The water was warming up. Soon the albacore and yellow tail would be running near Catalina.
His wife had become quite a fisherwoman in the past three years. They had been looking forward all winter and spring to trips to Catalina and the Channel Islands.
“Well,” Chip broke the silence, “you read it?”
“I read it”
“It can be done, then. We can supply Berlin by air.”
Crusty Stonebraker did not answer.
“Well, what do you think?” Hansen asked.
Crusty stared at his old friend. “I think you’re out of your friggin’ mind.”
Hansen handed Stonebraker his orders from the President recalling him to active duty. He said he knew Crusty all along would do it and told him a plane and crew were at his disposal.
“I’m going to have to have my own people and I don’t want any interference.”
“You’ve worked with Barney Root. He’s a good troop and all for you. The President has given this mission top priority and I’ll damned well back you up.”
“Chip, I’ll do my best to hold things together, but you’ve got to make a political settlement or we’re going to fall flat on our ass.”
“Have you told M.J.?”
“She smelled a rat the minute you phoned from Washington. I’ll follow you to Germany in a couple of days. I’ve already prepared a list of people I want transferred to Wiesbaden. I want to stop off in New York and see if I can get a particular man for production control... and I’ve got to call my daughter-in-law and see if she can come out and keep this place running.”