Threads of Despair: The Parallel Nazi - 6, page 15
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s just that too many things have happened that defy explanation or can be blamed on blind forces.”
“I’ve never heard you get mystical like this, Hennie. What brought this on?”
“Frau Marsden was here today.”
“Yes,” Gisela responded. “She wanted to check on the baby and me.”
“And she came to my office. You know how she is. She just walked in, without Willem having noticed.”
“That’s more than blind force,” she giggled.
“Yes, well, she explained to me that we will get through the difficult times and that I didn’t need to worry.”
“Hennie, if you didn’t worry, you wouldn’t be you.”
“I am not quite sure how to respond to that. However, it seems like that old lady knows things. And how else would you explain how she rescued Karl and me during the coup?”
“I never quite understood that,” she mused. “A lot of things were happening, and things were confused.”
“I suppose that would be one way to put it.”
She stood up. “Let’s go to bed, Hennie. You can’t allow yourself to get overtired again.”
He let her pull him to his feet, and he followed her to their bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
December 24, 1943; 9 PM
The White House
Washington, DC, USA
“Did you call this meeting, Harry?”
The voice shook Harry Truman from his reverie. He turned from the windows to face the group in his office.
“Yes. Yes, I guess I did. You have my apologies, Gentlemen, for wasting your time.”
He glanced at Frank Knox, who was the only one with the courage to call him out.
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I suppose I was woolgathering.”
“Mr. President, we understand. These are difficult times. I sometimes despair of finding solutions to our problems.”
“Back down to business, then,” the president said. “General Groves, perhaps you could summarize the problems we face in Hanford and what we are doing about them.”
“Of course, Mr. President.”
Truman had fired Groves from the Manhattan Project but then had quietly given him an office in the White House as the President’s Science Advisor. The man had lost a lot of weight over the past few weeks, and the bags under his eyes were pronounced. Truman had explained to Groves that while the explosion was not his fault, both of them were responsible. As such, Groves had been pulled out of the line of fire. Truman had no such recourse available.
“As you know, because of an undetermined accident, the atomic pile at the Hanford Engineering Works exploded and caught fire. From what little we have observed, the reactive metals inside the device have melted and then pooled at the bottom. We have two feet of concrete as a base for the building, but we believe the metal will soon melt through to the ground beneath.”
Groves continued. “The fires are still burning, although they have died down quite a bit. Now to the effects. When it melts through the concrete, the reactive metal will poison the groundwater and eventually contaminate the Columbia River. The smoke from the fires contains graphite and metallic residue. We are beginning to detect radiation in Lewiston, Idaho. We have, of course, evacuated the town and begun moving people who are to the east.”
“How far to the east are we going to have to evacuate?” General Marshall asked.
“We are concerned about Boise.”
The secretary of the interior, Harold Ickes, shook his head. “We must get this fire out. We are destroying twenty-five percent of our country. I cannot understand how we allowed something like this to happen.”
“There will be a time for recriminations later, Secretary Ickes,” Truman responded. “General Groves, please continue. What are we doing to stop the fire?”
“We are dumping a mixture of Borax and sand into the pile. It has had the effect of reducing the fire, but we have a long way to go. I am hopeful we could have the fire out in another week.”
Truman nodded and then looked at the Secretary of the Interior. “Secretary Ickes, where are we at on handling the refugee situation?”
“We are using military bases, schools, and warehouses all around the region to shelter people. It’s a bad time of the year to be outside, anyway. The Army, primarily, is managing the logistics of getting supplies to these areas. The churches in the areas around the camps or schools are also pitching in to help. So far, we are keeping up with it. Barely. I am working with the Army on the expansion of the food convoys. We are starting to pull resources from the Midwest and Deep South. I want to spread the burden as evenly as possible. We need to know when the people can return to their homes. It is important.”
Truman looked over at Groves, who cleared his throat before responding. “Maybe never, Mr. Secretary. The poisons are long-lived, and most are deadly.”
“Never?”
“That is correct. Many of the poisons will last for hundreds of thousands of years.”
“My God. Why did you not tell me, man?” Ickes yelled. “I need to begin planning to find new homes for all these people. And we must get that fire stopped before we poison the entire continent.”
Truman leaned against his desk with his hands in his pockets as he faced the group in the Oval Office. The disaster was every bit as complete as he feared. It was more important than ever to get the war with Japan stopped. The country was in an uproar about the accident. The Press was going wild, with reporters scrambling everywhere to discover what had happened. Newspapers around the country were printing fanciful stories with no basis in reality, and this likely made things worse.
The Congress had convened hearings on accident, which meant that the full truth would eventually come out. Truman had too much respect for the institutions to suspend peoples’ liberties. He was convinced that any alternative was worse.
“Yes, Mr. Ickes,” he said, “we had better start planning to find places to live for these people. We have thrown together a lot of military encampments in support of the war. I would suggest we start there. We have the manpower to quickly build barracks that can be divided into small apartments for families. I directed Secretary Stimson and General Marshall to give you every possible assistance.”
Truman looked around the room. “Is there anything else we need to cover tonight?”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. President,” General Marshall replied.
“Helluva way to spend a Christmas Eve, isn’t it?” Truman snorted. “I appreciate your wishes, General, but there are a God-awful number of American citizens who are having anything but a Merry Christmas.”
Truman walked over to face the window again as the group filed out.
“I’ve never seen you this way, Mr. President.”
He turned to see that Frank Knox had remained behind. Truman walked over to the sideboard and prepared two drinks. He handed one to Knox.
“These are the worst times this country has faced,” the president said. “It’s like the almighty is pouring out his wrath on our people. And there is nothing I can do about it.”
“And so you cry in your beer?”
“You are not helpful in this regard, Mr. Secretary.”
“And so you cloak your poor me persona within the august majesty of the President of the United States. That does not become you.”
“I fail to see why I should allow you to sit in my office and insult me,” Truman snapped.
“We are in a battle, Mr. President. Far more challenging than the Japanese war, we will be judged on how we manage this accident,” and he spat the word, “It will determine the future, if not the existence of the United States.”
“And so I am doing all I can to salvage the situation,” Truman argued.
“No, Sir, you are not, with all due respect!”
“Since you have appointed yourself the all-knowing oracle of wisdom, what should I be doing?”
“How has the Press described you, Mr. President? Jaunty, indefatigable, upbeat, in touch with the common man. And what are you doing now? You are brooding here in this pile of stone and feeling sorry for yourself. You have cut off your access to the Press. You are not taking your walks around the city and greeting the citizens. Everybody sees this, but you.”
“How can I even face the people, considering what I have done?” came the anguished cry.
“This is exactly when the people need you, Mr. President. By hiding here, you are not accepting the responsibility. If you blame yourself, then they will blame you.”
“I’ve never hidden from responsibility,” Truman muttered.
“What do you think you are doing right now?”
“That’s just about enough, Secretary Knox. I don’t need lectures from you.”
“If not me, then who? You need to be in front of the people. Talk to the newspapers. Fly out and visit the refugee camps. Talk to the people who are trying to clean up the mess. Let the American people know that someone is in charge.”
“But the Press is going to crucify me.”
“So what? McCormick and the Chicago Tribune will find a reason to do so anyway. You never let it bother you before. And what does it matter? If the people see you leading, they will follow. Many may not vote for you, but they will, by God, follow the President. And that is what matters.”
“Are we done here?”
“Yes, Mr. President, I think we are. But please think about what I said.”
Harry Truman, the President of the United States, remained alone for a while in the Oval Office. Finally, he tossed off the rest of his drink and stood. It was time to go upstairs and retire for the evening. And he needed to talk to Bess.
§ § §
December 24, 1943; 11:30 PM
Naval Operating Base (NOB) Norfolk
Along the Elizabeth River
Norfolk, VA, USA
Commander Alan Carper stood alongside the harbor pilot who guided the USS Hamburg into Pier 3 at the Norfolk Naval base. Despite the rough weather that accompanied most of the Atlantic crossing, Carper was delighted with the U-boat's performance. Blohm & Vos had outdone themselves in the construction of the boat and getting it ready for service.
The dockworkers tossed the lines to the deck sailors, who secured them. Once the boat had been snugged into its anchorage, the pilot nodded to Carper. Carper picked up the telephone.
“This is the Skipper. We are done with engines.”
“Done with engines, Aye, Sir,” the Exec replied.
The soft rumble of the diesels halted, and the noise of the winter harbor intruded. It was quiet tonight, and he gazed up at the bright starlit sky. He was happy to arrive before Christmas, as was the crew. The boat was now based out of Norfolk, and most of the crew had families in the area. He thought they would soon be deployed to the Pacific, but having the holiday season in the home port was special.
A 1941 Plymouth staff car rolled down the pier and stopped by the Hamburg. A lieutenant in Navy whites stepped out of the vehicle. Okay, Carper thought, the Captain was waiting for us to make port.
The lieutenant walked up the gangway.
“Permission to come aboard?” he called.
“Granted,” Carper called back.
The lieutenant stepped on the deck and saluted the flag. He then turned and saluted the OOD. Carper made his way down to the deck to greet what was probably a courier.
“I’m Captain Carper, Lieutenant. What do you have for me?”
Regardless of his actual rank, whenever Carper was aboard the Hamburg, he was The Captain.
The lieutenant saluted and then handed Carper a thick envelope.
Oh, rats! Sailing orders.
“Sir, Captain Lorenz asked that you have breakfast with him at 0600, if that is acceptable.”
“I would be delighted to have breakfast with the Captain.”
“Very well, Sir. He asks that you familiarize yourself with the contents of the envelope before you meet with him.”
“Did he say anything about shore leave?”
“No, Sir, he did not.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming out this late.”
“No problem, Sir. We are excited to see the new build boats coming in finally. They will change the war for us.”
“And I am glad to be back in the good old US of A. Good night, Lieutenant.”
“With your permission, Sir?”
“You have my leave.”
The lieutenant looked around curiously at the boat, but having been dismissed, he marched down the gangway and returned to his car. Carper had noticed the dolphins on the lieutenant’s uniform, so he was another submariner. If it hadn’t been so late in the evening, he would have given the man a tour of the boat. He was proud of it, after all.
He stepped back into the conning tower and climbed down the hatch to the control room. Tom Farrier looked expectantly at him.
“Tom, we’re going to have to keep the crew aboard, at least for the time being. I have an 0600 meeting with the squadron captain. I want you to start working on provisioning. And also attend to the binnacle list. If we have to head out again soon, I want the boat to be four-oh.”
“Aye, aye, Sir. If you’re meeting with Captain Lorenz, may I suggest you get some sleep?”
“You may,” Carper grinned. He held up the envelope. “First of all, I need to look at this. Have the steward get me up at 0400.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
December 27, 1943; 8:00 AM
Heston Aerodrome
Near London, England
“Darling, is that the aircraft we will fly in?” Clarice Marty asked. “Is it safe?”
“Oh, I think it will be fine,” Colin Marty replied, gazing at the Vickers Warwick currently subject to the attentions of the pilots.
As the two walked around the aircraft, performing a general inspection, a group of ground crew busily loaded luggage and cargo.
“I could hardly wait for this day. It is just so exciting. I cannot believe we are flying all the way to Kabul.”
“It’ll be a long five days, Sweet. I hope you are as excited when we arrive.”
“Oh, tush, Colin. You are such a stick in the mud, sometimes,” she exclaimed, nudging him with her hip.
He smiled. He knew his wife enjoyed his mild teasing, even though she responded as though she was insulted. And he was excited, too.
“Oh, look!” she exclaimed, “Is that the queen’s car?”
The black and claret 1939 Rolls-Royce Wraith drove silently up the entry road to the airfield.
“Yes, that would be our favorite queen. I’m surprised she came to see us off.”
“That’s quite an honor, Colin.”
Group Captain Edmund Peel, the aerodrome commander, hustled over to where the queen climbed out of the car.
“Your Majesty, we are greatly honored by your visit. I must apologize; No one informed me that you were coming.”
“Oh, this isn’t an official visit, Group Captain. My friends are leaving on an extended trip, and I thought I would come out to give them my well wishes.”
“Of course, Your Majesty, of course.”
The man stood there, looking helpless. Colin watched with amusement. It seemed likely that the Group Captain had been assigned this position, so he would not have to make critical decisions. The queen took pity on him.
“Thank you for coming out to greet me. If you will excuse me, I must speak to Mr. Marty before his airplane takes off.”
“Of course, of course, Your Majesty. If you will excuse me…”
Group Captain Peel trotted off uncertainly, and Margaret marched over to where the Martys stood.
“The FO typed up some further instructions for you, Colin. Lord Halifax will carry the discussions, of course.”
She handed him a cardboard portfolio. “I thought I might as well bring them out myself.”
“We’re very honored you did, Ma’am,” Colin replied.
“And you, Clarice, are instructed to enjoy the trip,” the queen said in a threatening way.
“Oh, I plan to, Ma’am,” Clarice giggled. “We are so honored that you came to the aerodrome.”
Margaret shrugged. “I need to get out of the palace from time to time. I plan to stop somewhere on the way back into the city for brunch. And why is everyone still standing on the tarmac? You should be leaving.”
“The pilots are inspecting the airplane, Ma’am,” Colin explained. “I think the ground crew was having difficulty loading all the luggage.”
“So the Crown is sending two people to the conference, and the FO is sending ten,” she snorted. “Something is wrong with Halifax’s arithmetic.”
“Do you want me to throw someone off the plane, Ma’am?” Colin asked.
Margaret burst into one of her characteristic belly laughs. “No, Edward would not forgive me. You might not realize it, Colin, but I could be guilty of lèse majestié around Lord Halifax.”
Now Clarice guffawed and quickly held her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. Margaret grinned at her.
“It’s okay to laugh. Some of these noblemen take themselves entirely too seriously. We are not talking about me, of course.”
“Of course not,” Colin added.
“Be careful, Colin,” she shook a finger at him. “You might not have a job when you get back.”
“How would I buy milk for the baby?”
“Ha!” she barked. “It looks like they’re boarding. You’d better get on the aircraft.”
“Of course. Thank you again for coming out this morning, Ma’am.”
“Just bring me back an agreement we can live with.”
He nodded and grasped Clarice’s arm, and turned towards the plane. The aircraft was arranged with two seats in each row. By tacit agreement, the first row was reserved for the direct representatives of the queen. Colin and Clarice squeezed along the aisle and slipped into their seats at the front. Lord Halifax had already seated himself in the following row.
“Looks like we have a long journey ahead of us, Mr. Marty.”
