Thomsen shook his head. “I was informed that it was the Jews who shot first, right after your marines opened fire on the German soldiers who were guarding and protecting them.”
Guarding and protecting them my ass, thought Hull. He sat back in his chair and smiled benignly. “Well, it looks like we have two different versions of the same story. What a surprise. However, one thing is absolutely certain — we have the ship and crew, the human cargo, and a number of German soldiers in our possession. We will retain all but the soldiers who will be free to either return to German control or remain interned in the United States. Of course the Jews from the Beaufort will be free to do whatever they wish, but I cannot see any of them returning to Canada in the foreseeable future.”
Thomsen stood. The meeting was over. “Mr. Secretary, you are aware that each incident like this brings us closer and closer to war, aren’t you?” he asked sadly.
Just as each day brings us closer and closer to April second, Hull thought. He wondered if Thomsen was aware of what was going to happen on that date.
Barring a miracle, war with Germany would commence in only a couple of weeks. Hull wondered if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Certainly oppressed and brutalized peoples in Canada and Europe would rejoice and pray for their liberation, while other nations, ostensibly neutral, would wait to see how this new war played out. Would the United States prevail, or would the Thousand Year Reich become a terrible reality. And how long would it take and how much American blood would be spilled to bring down the Third Reich?
Hull wondered what the Soviets would do when the spring thaws arrived. Again, there were rumors that either the Germans or the Russians would commence their own war again once the snows melted and the mud dried. Perhaps it was time for another conversation with Andrei Gromyko, the very young ambassador from what remained of the Soviet Union.
There was no question regarding the British. They were totally dependent on others for their food, which meant that the British Isles, already on short rations, could be starved if Hitler decided to impose a blockade. The British would do what they did in the previous decade — they would try to appease the Nazi monster.
B24 pilot Terry Romano was bored to tears, and so was his crew. How many times could they pretend to bomb a make believe enemy ship? They had honed their skills to perfection. Men, plane and weapons all functioned as one.
Neither Terry nor his men were stupid. They knew that it was one thing to drop bombs and fire weapons at a defenseless target and quite another to shoot at one that might just fire back, perhaps wounding or killing crewmen or even shooting down the Vampire. They’d even taken their bomber out over the Chesapeake and pretended to shoot up U.S. submarines that maneuvered and dived to stay away from them as part of their own training.
In briefings, they’d been told that the German’s Achilles Heel was a supply line that extended from France to wherever their subs lay in waiting. Even unopposed, it was a long and dangerous journey for the U-boats from the coast of the United States back to their bases in France along the Bay of Biscay. Thus, only about a third of the U-boats’ total strength could be mustered at any one time. One third would always be in transit to and from France, and the other third would be re-fitting and their crews getting needed rest.
He’d been told that the Kriegsmarine had gathered a number of transports that would be used as supply ships and even had a number of specially designed transport submarines called ‘milch cows.’ The German crews could take their recreation in Halifax, which, while not France, was peaceful enough. A thoughtful German military hierarchy had even imported a number of French prostitutes to service their brave lads. Terry doubted the U.S. navy would ever go along with something like that, although both he and his crew thought the idea had merit. Hell, the American navy didn’t even allow alcohol on its ships, something Terry thought was absurd.
Along with sinking German U-boats, the bombers’ assignments would include killing those supply ships.
Strong rumors had the war beginning shortly. Terry was as nervous and scared as the next guy, but he was confident he would do his duty. He owed it to himself, his crew, and, oh yeah, the nice little girl named Nancy O’Connor he’d met in Baltimore. They’d dated a few times and, even though she wouldn’t let him do more than kiss her, he found himself more and more wanting to be with her.
Nancy wasn’t Italian, but she was Catholic. He thought his family would like her.
Chapter Nine
General George C. Marshall was his usual expressionless self as he sat across from President Roosevelt. For his part, the president was, as always, uncomfortable in the presence of his senior army commander. Marshall was a man who intimidated almost everyone.
“Mr. President, I would like you to reconsider my request.”
How many times had the man asked and how many times have I turned him down, FDR wondered. The denial was Marshall’s own fault for doing such a splendid job in Washington as the army’s chief of staff.
“No, general, I cannot spare you. I don’t think I would sleep well if you weren’t here to guide me. I understand fully just how much you want a field command, but I need you here. We are still at war with the Japanese and we need you to coordinate and control those efforts as well as the likely coming war with Germany. You nominated Eisenhower to command the forces arrayed against the Nazis and we are both confident that he will do a fine job.”
Marshall knew he was whipped. His dream of leading an army in battle would not be fulfilled. He’d held a staff position in France during the first war, and performed brilliantly, but he’d never held a combat command and it ate at him.
Marshall, of course, totally agreed with Roosevelt’s assessment of Eisenhower. Ike might not be a great strategist, but his skills as an administrator and facilitator would prove invaluable. Not only would he have to deal with his own subordinates, but he would have to mollify the Canadians while their country was destroyed by a war that was none of their choosing. When the fighting began, it was more than likely that the British would also come into the fray. In particular, the Royal Navy ships now in the Chesapeake and elsewhere were commanded by the dashing and charismatic Admiral Sir Philip Vian, a man who also craved action. Vian was a fighting admiral and Marshall thought that would mean a lot with King. Marshall’s own sources told him that the Brits were chomping at the bit to storm out of their sanctuaries and take on the German U-boats.
Ironically, his own secretary of state disagreed. He felt that the potential food situation would keep the Brits on the sidelines until they felt it was safe. We shall see, the president thought.
The two men reviewed the command structure. Along the St. Clair and Detroit Rivers, Lieutenant General George S. Patton commanded the U.S. Third army which consisted of two corps of two divisions each. They were located inland from the city of Detroit and both the St. Clair and Detroit rivers and would not move into position until and if the Germans attacked. Both FDR and Marshall knew they might be excoriated by future historians for not moving preemptively. But an early move would tip off the Germans who would likely cancel their operations and wait for another and more propitious day. Such would result in even more American casualties. No, it was better to bite the bullet and wait for April 2.
A similar situation waited on the Buffalo-Niagara line. There the American Fifth Army, consisting of three corps of two divisions each, was commanded by Lieutenant General Lloyd Fredendall. Marshall was a strong supporter of Fredendall and was confident that he would do splendidly in battle with the Nazis. Marshall admitted that had heard the rumors that Fredendall was a swaggering braggart, but so was Patton. Even if one of his chosen commanders failed, there were others waiting in the wings, and those included people like Omar Bradley and Lucian Truscott.