Stein’s warm eyes did not move from Albert.
“You are correct. We do expect our fair-weather oriental allies to attack the Americans. We are not sure where or when, but it will be soon.”
Stein, matter-of-factly, said,
“When and how does not matter—the Japanese could attack San Francisco, or Seattle, again, this makes little sense, or San Diego—that does make a modicum of sense. Of course, instead of the United States, the Japanese may attack the American possessions of the Hawaii Islands or possibly the Philippines. When is also not critical. Personally, I expect it before May or June of ’42, because that is when the Japanese will run out of oil. But it could be tomorrow, or it could be August in ’42. My guess is sooner, rather than later, it will be before August 42 as August is the start of the typhoon season in north Asia.”
“Well, back to your question: when the Japanese attack the Americans, what does Germany do?”
Stein had been waiting for this question since he opened the front door.
“Nothing,” Stein replied.
“Nothing, Professor?”
“Albert, let’s be realistic. You know I spent ’20 and ’21 at Harvard, along with students from China, Japan, Britain and Austria.”
Stein had spent two years teaching at Harvard, and another six months seconded at River Rouge in Michigan working with a Senior Vice President, who reported directly to Henry Ford. Stein had hosted a number of trips for his Harvard students.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but Europe is on a steeply declining parabola. We’re done for. The 14/18 war has sapped all our vitality—the Germans, the French, the English, the Italians, the Russians, all of us—kaput. When I was at The Rouge, as the Ford manufacturing plant is called—and it’s more a small nation-state than a factory—I realized Europe was doomed.”
Stein explained to Albert how coal and iron ore and rubber entered one end of this behemoth and cars spewed out the other end,
“‘Total Manufacturing Integration’ is what the Ford executives called it. And it makes Krupp look like a Lego factory.”
“Do I think Germany will be successful when the Reich attacks Russia? Possibly, and much as I hate the current claptrap that I read in the German newspapers, the Slavs are peasants, and they need to be defeated. Stalin is just the latest in a long line of tyrants.
Gorky was correct when he said about the Russians that ‘All the dark instincts of the crowd irritated by the disintegration of life and by the lies and filth of politics will flare up, and fume, poisoning us with anger, hate, and revenge; people will kill one another, unable to suppress their own animal stupidity.’ And the Russians have a history of five hundred years of pogroms and remember the Czarist Black Hundreds groups who hunted down and killed all the Yiddish-speaking people they could find.
Russia never changes—my friends at the Swiss security department have some extremely disturbing recent reports about what Stalin is doing in Russia—secret trials, mass executions, wide-spread starvation as a weapon; food rations have been cut to 1,000 calories per day; the minimum for an adult to survive is 1,400 calories. It is truly horrific and, remember, pogrom—the mass killing of Jews in Russia—is a Russian word that means devastation. And while I hate to say anything good about the regime you serve, it is actually the lesser of two evils. It was the American newspaper the New York Times that stated about the Soviets, ‘For the first time in history, a nation has undertaken a general crusade against religion.’ That was 10 years ago, but it is even more true today according to my Swiss friends.”
It was clear that Stein detested—and feared—the idea of a Soviet hegemony of Europe.
Stein continued,
“But America, that is a very different proposition—the Americans have an amusing phrase ‘a whole different ballgame.’ “
Albert’s confusion showed.
“Have you been to America, Albert?”
Albert had not.
Albert was becoming more and more concerned with what he was hearing, “So what can Germany do?”
Stein explained the two essentials, and Sophie joined them with the much-delayed espresso. The first critical step was to distance Germany as much as possible, and as quickly as possible, from Italy and from Japan.
“The Italians have wonderful coffee, and nothing else—il Duce is a clown, and a very stupid clown at that, albeit with some very colorful uniforms. I am sure you are aware of this from your friends in Berlin, and from fat Hermann’s transcripts.” (At this Albert looked very closely at his mentor).
“The Italians are totally unprepared for war, even a small war. Pomp and bluster aside, they’re children. Remember how Musso headed nine of the 22 Italian departments, including the merchant marine and how he forgot to tell his merchant ships to put to sea when the Italians finally declared war against a prostrate France and a weakened Britain—a quarter of all the Italian merchant marine tonnage was immediately interned by the British. Of course, the smiling Italian sailors were completely happy to be imprisoned in safe and civilized Britain on the Isle of Man.”
“Think of it as swords: Germany is one of the Saracen’s finest swords, England is a rapier, but America is the largest of terrible broadswords.”
“And Italy?” Albert asked
“As a child did you ever play pirates with an eye patch and hat and rubber sword?”
“Well that is what the Italians are like—amusing and entertaining buffoons at best, very serious liabilities at worst.”
“The Japanese?”
The professor said nothing. He stood and went to the bookcase. He lifted a humidor elegantly decorated in mother of pearl. Silently, he opened it to Albert.
“Albert, Cuban Cohiba—your favorite.”
“Let’s go onto the terrace and I will tell you a story.”
The two moved to the terrace. It had a large retractable shade, which was partially extended so the terrace had all the warmth of the glorious late summer day, but no direct sunlight.
The Cuban cigars were less than four weeks old, their dark brown leaf was soft and fresh—no aged hardness, just moist, inviting, and tender. Albert wondered how, then remembered Julius did some very quiet consulting for the Swiss Federal Government in Bern.
With the nubile young cigars lit and smoking happily, the Professor continued.
“One of my students at Harvard when I was teaching there in ’20 and ’21 was a very bright and very funny chap everyone called Six Fingers. He was Japanese, actually descended from samurai. Spoke perfect English and went on to become a naval attaché in Washington after his time with us in Cambridge.”
“He was in the party of students I took on a tour of The Rouge when I was there. I will tell more of that trip by and by, but I got to know Isoroku extremely well, and we exchange letters to this day. In fact, I’ll give you his Christmas gift to me as my Swiss doctor prohibits me from drinking spirits and I know you’re a whiskey man.”
According to Six Fingers, Japan is being controlled by much the same people you work with—boldly aggressive, highly nationalistic, but petite bourgeois in the worst possible way: fanatical about rank; always wanting to be nearest The Palace; all having the finest and youngest mistresses; taking slight at the smallest issue; and constantly stabbing each other in the back.
Albert looked at Stein, and said, “Sadly, that does strike very close to the quick, very close indeed. Replace ‘The Palace’ with ‘Berghof’ and actually it’s an exact parallel. Only last week, Paul related to me that when they were recently touring northern France, there was a caravan of 18 huge Mercedes—you know the dual axle type you see in all the newsreels. According to Paul, they were all competing to be the second car. Of course, for many in the procession their stomachs got the better of them and they stopped for a three-hour lunch.”