“The British prime minister is not here,” said Hitler, whose speaking voice was much softer than the one I knew from German radio broadcasts. “Am I to assume that he will not be joining us?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Roosevelt. “At least not for the present.”
“A great pity,” said Hitler. “I should like to have met him.”
“There may yet be an opportunity for that, Herr Hitler,” said Roosevelt. “Let us hope so, anyway.”
Hitler glanced around as his own translator appeared behind his shoulder to interpret the president’s words. It was my chance to take another quick look around the room, just in time to see Molotov shaking hands with von Ribbentrop, Stalin speaking to Harry Hopkins through Bohlen, and the various plainclothes SS men grouped around Himmler, who was smiling broadly as if delighted that things were off to a reasonably amicable start.
“Your Mr. Cordell Hull has asked me to assure you that he is quite well,” said Hitler. “And that he is being well looked after. Also the Russian commissar of foreign trade, Mr. Mikoyan.”
I made the translation, and seeing me frown while I spoke, Roosevelt thought to provide me with a short explanation of what the Fuhrer had just said: “Cordell Hull is in Berlin,” he told me. “As a hostage for the Fuhrer’s safe return home.”
Everything seemed to be falling into place now-even the reason the secretary of state had not been invited to the Big Three.
Hitler walked over to Stalin, who was a little shorter than Hitler and resembled a small, tubby bear. All the pictures I had seen of Stalin had created the illusion of a much taller man, and I guessed that these must have been taken from a lower level. When Stalin lit a cigarette, I also noticed his left arm was lame and slightly deformed, like the kaiser’s.
“Will you be all right, Willard?” Roosevelt said, and I guessed he was referring to my Jewishness more than anything else.
“Yes, Mr. President, I’m fine.”
Seeing his opportunity, Himmler moved smartly forward and, still smiling broadly, dipped his head, and then, relaxing somewhat, offered the president his hand. He was wearing a suit, with a silk shirt and tie and a pair of handsome gold cuff links that flashed like alarm signals under the room’s bright lights.
“I believe you are the principal architect of these negotiations,” said Roosevelt.
“I have only tried to make all parties see the sense of what is to be attempted here this morning.” The Reichsfuhrer-SS spoke pompously and with one eye always on Hitler. “And I sincerely believe that this war can be ended before Christmas.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Roosevelt. “Let’s hope so.”
The representatives of Russia, the United States, and Nazi Germany and their advisers seated themselves around the big green table. As host, it fell to Stalin to initiate the proceedings. With Bohlen translating, I was able to catch my breath and reflect on what was happening. That the Russians had managed to keep Hitler’s arrival in Teheran a secret was almost as amazing as the fact that Hitler should have ever come at all. And already I had decided that if the talks did, for some reason, fail, Roosevelt’s reputation was probably safe, for surely no one would believe that such a thing could ever have taken place.
Of the two dictators seated at the table, Stalin seemed the less attractive, and not because I could understand no Russian. He had a cold, crafty, almost corpselike face, and when the yellowish eyes flickered on me and he smiled to reveal his teeth, broken and stained with nicotine, it was all too easy to imagine him as a modern Ivan the Terrible, sending men, women, and children off to their deaths without mussing a hair. At the same time, his mind seemed sharper than Hitler’s, and he spoke well and without notes:
“We are sitting around this table for the first time with but one object in mind,” he said. “The ending of this war. It is my sincere belief that we shall do everything at this conference to make due use, within the framework of our cooperation, of the power and authority that our peoples have vested in us.”
Stalin nodded at Roosevelt, who removed his pince-nez and, using it to emphasize his opening remarks, began to speak: “I should like to welcome Herr Hitler into this circle,” said the president. “In past meetings between Britain and the United States, it has been our habit to publish nothing, but to speak our minds very freely. And I do urge each one of us all to speak as freely as he wishes on the basis of the good faith that has already been demonstrated by our presence in this room. Nevertheless, if any one of us does not want to talk about any particular subject, we do not have to do so.” Roosevelt leaned back in his wheelchair and waited for von Ribbentrop, who spoke excellent English, to finish the translation.
Hitler nodded and folded his arms across his chest. For a moment he was silent and only Stalin, filling his pipe from torn-up Russian Belomor cigarettes, seemed oblivious to the effect the Fuhrer’s pause was having on the room. When Hitler started to speak, I realized, with some amusement, that the Fuhrer had been trying to finish the PEZ mint he was sucking before saying anything.
“Thank you, Marshal Stalin and Mr. President. I should like to have offered my thanks to Mr. Churchill, too; however, since it is my belief that the three countries in this room represent the greatest concentration of worldly power that has ever been seen in the history of mankind, I also believe that we three alone have the potential to shorten the war, and that peace lies in our collective hands. Providence favors men who know how to use the opportunities fate has given them. This is such an opportunity, and to those who might criticize us for taking it, I would say that the notions of what is proper in war and peace have little to do with political reality. Morality has no place at the negotiating table, and the only truths we need recognize are the truths of pragmatism and expediency.”
Roosevelt beamed like a benevolent uncle and nodded happily as Hitler continued to speak.
“And now, let me come to the subject that commands all our attention: the second front. I shall not say that I do not believe in the possibility of a second front, for that would jeopardize the whole basis of my coming here. Instead, I shall merely say that German military precision and thoroughness already ensure that we are certainly prepared for such an eventuality. The fact remains that to attempt a landing on the coast of Europe would give any sane military strategist some considerable pause for thought. The reasons that forestalled my own invasion of England in 1940 are now the same reasons that haunt your generals. The difficulty of this landing cannot be overstated, and a bloodbath seems inevitable. My own generals estimate that at least half a million men will die-German and Allied combined. In 1940 I did not think England was worth the lives of so many German soldiers, and today I wonder if you will think that a beachhead in Holland, Belgium, or France is worth the lives of as many British and American soldiers. Doubtless Marshal Stalin, whose losses have been nothing short of heroic, is thinking the same thing.”
Hitler shrugged. “Oh, I won’t say that we can win the war. After the defeats at El Alamein in October ’42 and, more decisively, the defeat of the German Sixth Army at Stalingrad, I know that victory is now beyond our capability. We cannot win this war. There, I say it openly-as you, Mr. President, have urged us all to be open. I will say it again. Germany cannot win this war. But, equally, Germany can still make it painfully difficult for you to win it yourselves.”
Roosevelt lit the cigarette in his holder and, removing the pince-nez once again, leaned forward to make a point. “I appreciate your candor, Herr Hitler. So let me be quite candid, too. The important strategic objective for the Allies is not a northern European landing, but rather to draw more German divisions away from the Soviet front. To this end, there are other operations available to us. A drive up through Italy, a thrust from the northeastern Adriatic, an operation in the Aegean Sea, even operations from Turkey. Any of these would oblige you to withdraw some of your forces from the eastern front. And yet, having said all that, there are many people in Britain and America who might think that the sacrifice of a quarter of a million men is a price worth paying for a free and democratic Europe.”