The President stood and came around the desk, shaking each man’s hand, greeting him by name. With the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Sims used his free hand to clasp Alan’s hand. Sims grasped Harold by the elbow as they shook hands, and with McGraw, the President seemed to hang on dearly as the giant bear of a general shook.
The President sat in a rocking chair just as President Kennedy used to do. Being in motion seemed to help Sims think. Alan and Harold sat on the couch, one man at each end, while McGraw eased into a large stuffed chair facing the President. Anna sat to the side of the President and away from the couch.
“You know my personal representative,” Sims said, gesturing to Anna. “She will take notes and add insights as needed.”
Anna felt their stares, and it made her uncomfortable. She particularly felt General Alan’s disapproval of her because of her half-Chinese ancestry.
The President cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, we know the situation with the Chinese and Brazilians. These Noah-like rains have given us breathing space, bogging down the enemy’s relentless advance. It’s made it harder for us to resupply our troops, certainly, but it’s wreaked havoc on the enemy supply lines. Unfortunately the rains won’t last forever, and soon winter will change the mud to a frozen surface. I’m thinking the Chinese mean to push a brutal winter campaign onto us. It also seems clear they mean to split our country in half, driving north to the Canadian border. Hell, maybe they mean to drive into Canada too.
“General,” Sims said, turning to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “We need more men and materiel on the front, isn’t that true?”
“If we plan to stop the enemy, yes, Mr. President,” General Alan said. “We need a lot more troops. We’ve lost too many men, either killed or captured in grueling cauldrons of battle, and need to reinforce our depleted ranks. The enemy keeps pouring in reinforcements to replace his losses. It seems like an endless supply for them. With the rainy, muddy breathing spell, as you’ve stated, we have a precarious situation. The front has stabilized at the moment, but that will change once winter comes.”
Anna watched the President rock a little faster. She could feel the tension in him, the excitement. Before her trip to Iceland, he’d been a beaten man, thrashing about without hope.
Yes, he has hope again. It must be more than Kleist’s offer. Does it have something to do with McGraw?
“Gentlemen,” Sims said, “I have a bombshell to give you. I don’t know if it’s a godsend or the slickest trick played on us yet. I need advice. I need it now and you three are the ones who are going to give it to me. General Alan, I trust your military judgment. We beat the Chinese in California this spring and we’ve managed to keep our armies afloat in the worst disaster to American arms in history this summer and fall. You’ve worked tirelessly in that effort. Director, you’ve done more than anyone else has to arm and train enough extra Militiamen to give us a fighting chance. Sometimes, the Militia battalions fold and the men run, but more often than not, they fight as stubbornly as the Regular Army. You’ve cut through miles of red tape in order to get it done, and that may be what we need today. Lastly, General McGraw, you’ve saved the situation twice on the battlefront by freeing otherwise lost troops. I need someone who has faced the worst the enemy can give us in order to tell me what can or cannot work against him. You’ve also become something of the media hero, and if we agree to my plan, I need your full, public and enthusiastic endorsement of it.”
“This is all rather mysterious, Mr. President,” General Alan said.
Sims nodded. “I’ve kept this one close to my chest. If it went the wrong way, news of it might have destroyed what morale our people and armies still possess.” He took a deep breath. “You may or may not know that Ms. Chen met with Chancellor Kleist in Reykjavik, Iceland several days ago.”
The three men gazed at Anna, and she had to work to keep from squirming.
“I learned through trustworthy channels that the Chancellor had an offer to make,” Sims told them. “I decided to gamble and find out what it was. It turns out the Chancellor is a clever negotiator, quite a sly fox. He offered us neutrality—”
“I would take it, Mr. President,” Director Harold said.
Sims nodded. “Of course. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. The offer comes with an expensive price.”
“I’m thinking it must be a very stiff cost,” Alan said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t need our opinions.”
The President scanned the three men. After a pregnant wait, he said, “Chancellor Kleist wants Quebec. He wants to add the French-speaking part of Canada to the German Dominion just as he’s added much of North Africa to it.”
General Alan frowned. “We don’t own Quebec. As you said, it is part of Canada. It’s not ours to give.”
“Yes, that makes the problem much worse,” Sims agreed.
“Suppose we thought the idea a good one,” Director Harold said. “How would you explain the situation to the Canadians so they would agree?”
“There are several problems with the offer,” Sims said, sidestepping the question. “It’s why I need expert advice. Explaining the situation to the Canadians would be hard, and they might not agree to it right away.”
“Are you suggesting we make the Canadians agree?” General Alan asked.
“I’m not sanguine concerning such a situation,” Sims said. “We’re talking about dismembering their country. Without Quebec, Canada would essentially lose its Eastern seaboard. The four small Maritime Provinces would be cut off from the rest of the country. Their only eastern port directly linked to the rest of Canada then would be Churchill in Hudson Bay, which is icebound during much of the year. No, even if they readily agreed, they wouldn’t be happy with the situation or pleased with us.
“One of the bitterest aspects of this war is that we lack allies,” Sims said. “The Canadians are it—well, and the Mexico Home Army. The Canadian military proved invaluable in Alaska and we’re looking forward to their entry again in the very near future. Forcing them to give the Germans Quebec is a lousy way to pay back our only friends in the world. One, I don’t want to lose our Canadian allies and two, I don’t want the world to see that we shaft our friends, which accepting this offer will make us do.”
“Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong perspective,” Director Harold said. “Quebec wants to separate. We know the separatist movement ties down Canadian formations. If the Canadians gave up Quebec, it would free them from occupation duty and maybe free them from the headache of living together with the French-Canadians. It might be that the Canadian Government could use this as a way to escape a hopeless situation. Their countrymen wouldn’t look at them as traitors or weaklings, but as having no choice in the matter.”
“Possibly,” Alan said. “One problem automatically comes to mind. The Canadians would likely feel a need to militarize the border with Quebec.” With the loud crack of his neck stretching, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs turned to Sims. “Kleist wants to send GD troops into Quebec, right?”
“Unfortunately true,” Sims said.
“That’s bad,” General Alan said, while shaking his head. “To have the GD poised in Cuba and Quebec—”
“The Chancellor said he would move the forces in Cuba to Quebec,” Sims said.
“Meaning he’d have them on the continent,” General Alan said. “I don’t like it at all. It smacks to me of a trick, a way to get his military onto the continent without having to pay the cruel costs of an amphibious invasion.”