“Not really, not outside of Boston, anyway.” Horak and Radecki stared at each other, then at me, then at Kaz, doubt gaining over cordiality.
“Billy,” Kaz said, his voice hissing between clenched teeth. “Major Horak is not inquiring after your uncle Daniel. He means your other uncle.”
“Oh, him! Sure, he’s fine. Well, nice to meet you both,” I said, nodding to the two officers. “We won’t keep you from your lunch. Ready, Kaz?”
“Billy, don’t do this,” Kaz whispered.
“Lieutenant Boyle,” Captain Radecki said, limping between Kaz and me, grasping the edge of a table to steady himself. “Let me apologize. When the baron told us he was lunching with you today, we prevailed upon him to include us. The least we could do was to provide the meal.” He gestured to the table, which was set with polished silver, bone china, and cut crystal. His nails were manicured, his jet black hair slicked back, and he sported a neatly trimmed pencil mustache. He oozed self-confidence in spite of his limp, and I thought it might be bad for Kaz if I didn’t play along. Guys like that liked to get their way. I wasn’t feeling too charitable toward Kaz for setting me up, but I wasn’t quite ready to throw him to the wolves.
“Sure, Captain. I don’t mind.” Major Horak lost his worried look, and we all sat.
“General Eisenhower will be in London soon, we understand?” Horak said nonchalantly as he unfolded his cloth napkin. I did the same and thought it was big enough for a flag of surrender.
“I saw him a couple of days ago, in Naples,” I said, avoiding the question. “Who told you he’d be here?”
“One hears things,” Horak said, making a dismissive gesture with one hand as he made a point of not looking at Kaz. He had a broad, expressive face, unlike Radecki, who would have been a much better poker player. Horak was forty or so, his brown hair falling untidily over his forehead. He played with his knife, turning it over in his hand as he spoke. “London runs on gossip and spies. Not German spies, mind you, but we all spy on each other. The British, French, Poles, Russians, Belgians, everyone except you Americans, I think. You are too direct for spying and gossip, yes?”
“One hears things,” I answered. “And sometimes one does not, even from his friends.” It was my turn not to look at Kaz.
“Everyone is saying General Eisenhower is to command the invasion,” Radecki said, lighting a cigarette as he held his bad leg straight. “We thought it would be your General Marshall.”
“Was that the gossip?” I asked, watching Radecki do a French inhale, his eyelids flickering against the smoke. He ignored me.
“Almost a certainty, we were told,” Horak said. “But then again, some of our sources were English, and they thought it should be Montgomery. But it had to be an American, don’t you think? It has become an American war, with all the troops, ships, planes, and armor coming from America.”
“Polish troops are fighting in Italy,” I said. “Along with the British and French. Even the Italians are fighting with us now. It’s not a purely American war.”
“No matter,” Radecki said. “It will be an American general. No European general could see beyond his own borders, except to covet what lies beyond.” He crushed his cigarette out, and no one else spoke. White-coated waiters entered, filling the silence with the clatter of serving dishes and wine bottles. We ate well. Grilled lamb, dumplings, mushrooms. Washed down with a chilled white wine, something French I couldn’t pronounce. Topped off with an ice-cold glass of Polish vodka. I drank it down, feeling the alcohol warm my gut and stab at my brain. Then I waited. I watched Horak lean back and nod, ever so slightly, to Radecki.
“We thought it important, Lieutenant Boyle-”
“Call me Billy, Captain. Everyone does.” I pushed my empty glass toward the bottle and Horak poured. Half a glass. I guess they needed me half sober.
“Very well-Billy-as I was saying, we thought it important to fully inform you of the situation concerning the Katyn Forest Massacre. The Americans, until now, have been silent on the matter, unlike the British. Or the Russians.”
“What do you mean, until now?”
“It is not yet public knowledge, but an American colonel, attached as a liaison to the Polish Army in the Mediterranean, drafted a report for General George Strong, your chief of U.S. Army Intelligence. He interviewed Poles who had been released by the Russians, reviewed evidence collected by the Red Cross, and submitted his report. It said all the evidence pointed to the Russians as the executioners of nearly twenty thousand Polish officers, at the Katyn Forest and other locations as well.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said. I drank some more.
“Lieutenant Colonel Henry Szymanski,” Horak said. “I met him in Egypt. A fine officer. But his career is over.”
“Why?” I asked, conscious of a slur creeping into my voice.
“Several days ago the War Department in Washington officially charged him with an anti-Soviet bias, and informed his superiors of such. They may as well publicly have called him a liar.”
“Poor bastard,” I said.
“It is unfortunate, yes,” Radecki said. “Which is why we wish to provide you with details, so at least some other American officers will be fully informed.”
“And you choose me because my uncle is General Eisenhower, and I’m on his staff?” My tongue felt thick, and I had to focus on getting Uncle Ike’s four-syllable last name out right.
“Because Lieutenant Kazimierz trusts you,” Horak said. “And we would be fools not to take notice of your connection with the esteemed general. And you would be a fool to think your friend brought you here under false pretenses. He speaks well of you, and this luncheon was entirely my idea.”
“OK,” I said. “How about a cup of coffee, and then you fill me in?” We moved to a pair of sofas facing each other by the fireplace. Radecki brought a file and sat across from me, kneading his thigh.
“War wound?” I asked as the coffee was poured.
“I wish it had been,” Radecki said with a wry smile. “It was a tram accident, in Bucharest. The bone was not set properly, but I had no time to go back to the hospital. I had a freighter to catch in Constanta, on the Black Sea. Otherwise I would have been trapped in Romania.”
“It looks painful,” I said.
“It is. I fell again, hurrying on the stairs recently, and aggravated it. My doctor has prescribed laudanum, which I take only when I cannot sleep. They say they can reset the bone, but it would be a long convalescence. After the war, perhaps.”
“Captain Radecki knows I rely on him,” Horak said. “With so few experienced officers, he is worth more with a bad leg than ten junior officers.” He gave a nod to Radecki to begin.
“I am sure you know the basics, Billy,” Radecki said. “But, to summarize, in September 1939 the Germans attacked Poland, the beginning of this war. England declared war on Germany, but could do nothing to aid us. The Russians, who had a nonaggression pact with Nazi Germany, then invaded our nation from the east. The Russians and Germans divided Poland between them.”
“I know,” I said. “It was a raw deal.” I drank the hot coffee, remembering the newspaper headlines at the time. There had been rumors of peace, with the most optimistic, or naive, thinking that with the two big powers in eastern Europe in cahoots, it might end quickly. I guess if a few small countries had to take it on the chin, that didn’t bother some people much.
“Indeed. The Russians took a quarter of a million Polish troops prisoner. They released many of the lower ranks, and turned thousands over to the Germans. Ultimately, they were left with forty thousand. Officers from all services, plus many professionals who had been arrested. Physicians, clergymen, teachers, judges, and so on.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “If the Russians and Germans were taking everyone prisoner, how did so many Poles make it out? How did you two end up here, if you don’t mind my asking?”