“So as to shoot any of the American men in the Lincoln Brigade who wanted to retreat.”
Roosevelt said nothing and looked out of the windows of the Oval Office into the garden.
“So your point is that boozy Winston’s blind hate of the Germans is blinding him to the natural Slav barbarism?”
Stimson nodded and said, “Before we go professing our undying love and admiration of all things Slavic, perhaps we need to think about who we’re getting into bed with. We can cut a deal with the Germans in an afternoon, and the Germans are the natural rulers of central Europe, not these half-mad, mongoloid Slavs who all lack an ounce of civilization.”
Over the next two weeks, the Californian newspapers, then the papers back East, all started running the same story—“The Phony War, Part 2.” As the papers explained, after the invasion of Poland in 1939, “a state of eerie quiet enveloped Europe”—the English papers had called it “The Phony War,” which ended in May 1940 with the sudden collapse of France.
In early afternoon, Roosevelt was amused to see the telegram Stimson had gotten from MacArthur in Manila where the General had personally had taken all the credit for the sudden calm, “I have created a sense of overwhelming trepidation in the enemy throughout Asia with the concomitant reduction of all enemy actions against the United States’ possession of the Philippines.”
“I am surprised Douglas is not also claiming responsibility for the sun rising every morning,” was Roosevelt’s terse and tart comment.
In the first week after the Japanese attack, the country had been at fever pitch to “kill all the Japs,” and there were some extremely unpleasant mob lynchings in San Francisco of innocent American business men of Japanese descent. But Roosevelt’s weekly radio addresses had been very, very carefully crafted to deflect this anger. And with this calm and reassuring voice, he again created a new—and better—reality.
Just as suddenly as it had erupted, the mob anger subsided.
28: Bad News for the Lisper
THE JAPANESE AMBASSADOR ARRIVED at the White House promptly at 9 a.m. for the meeting he had requested the previous day. Nomura was his typical Japanese self: quiet, polite and deferential. Truth be told, there was absolutely no reason for his modest demeanor.
The President and Stimson were not friendly but were also by no means frosty—they realized that the Japanese were doing precisely what they said they would do: honoring the unofficial armistice regarding the Americans while, at that same time, precisely and elegantly demolishing what was laughingly called the British “Empire.”
“So, what do you have for us today, Mr. Ambassador?” the President asked.
As always, the deference of the Japanese was extreme—he had bowed deeply and solemnly before the two men before speaking quietly.
“And please take a seat.”
With quiet reluctance, the ambassador sat, but unlike the sprawl of Stimson, Nomura sat, like a nervous schoolboy, on the edge of the sofa.
“Mr. President and Mr. Stimson, I am pleased to tell you that Tokyo has requested that I ask your permission to extend the armistice for another six weeks. My government feels we are making progress and they are anxious to continue this dialogue. Would it be possible for us to continue this arrangement while we continue speaking?”
The President, holding no cards, smiled and was equanimous, “That can be arranged.”
The Japanese ambassador stood and bowed to the President.
“Mr. President, I can assure you that you have made my Emperor extremely happy.”
Stimson said, “I see you have taken Hong Kong.”
“Yes, Mr. Stimson. The British colony surrendered on Christmas Day.”
The Japanese ambassador’s simple reply showed none of the pride he, and his country, felt.
“But I suspect Singapore will prove to be a far tougher nut to crack.”
Nomura was lost for a second until he grasped the Secretary of War’s idiom.
Realizing Stimson’s meaning, he said,
“Well, Admiral Yamamoto, who has spent quite a deal of time in your country, uses the American expression, ‘Time Will Tell.’”
Curious, Stimson said, “You really think you can take Singapore?”
“Well, as I mentioned to you and to Admiral King, we think we may have the good fortune to do so.”
Then Nomura’s next question shocked the other two,
“Suppose, for a moment, that the Japanese army was able to secure Singapore, would that be grounds for a more permanent armistice between our two countries?”
The two men were not children; what Nomura was saying in essence was, with the British impotent, would a new order in Asia—a duopoly of the United States and Japan, centered on Roosevelt’s beloved NIRA program—be possible? As Britain was the last of the European colonialists in the Asia, if Britain was defeated and thus made completely powerless, could a new “arrangement” be made?
“I have to be honest, Mr. Ambassador, I speak daily to Mr. Churchill, on this telephone,” the President said, patting the black Bakelite instrument.
“And Mr. Churchill tells me that the Japanese cannot possibly take Singapore.”
Nomura nodded, “I understand, sir. But if we Japanese were able to prove our military acumen, would it be possible for you to consider a change?”
Roosevelt showed a shard of unusual candor, “Well, Henry, what do you think?”
Stimson pulled on his ear lobe,
“Well, to be perfectly honest, Mr. Ambassador, if the Japanese were able to conquer Singapore, then yes, that would potentially change the balance of forces in Asia in a very significant way. But, as my advisers tell me, that is unlikely. And without the British defeated, an American-Japanese Asia Council would be difficult to establish. But, conversely, with a major British defeat, a vacuum of power would exist and would need to be filled by senior and responsible countries.”
Nomura pressed, “But if the British were to suffer a major defeat, you would be open to considering a dialogue?”
The President pre-empted Stimson, who was about to give the same answer,
“Sure, we would consider it.”
Ever the politician, Roosevelt added, “But, just consider, if and when such an event did ever occur.”
Having achieved what he had wanted, Nomura followed a sacrosanct rule of selling and did not buy it back.
“Mr. President, you are being more than fair. May I return to my embassy and send this message to the government of my emperor?”
The President nodded and said that he could.
With no further ado, the ambassador rose, bowed and left.
“Henry, what the fuck just happened?”
“Well Franklin, I think we have just fucked short, fat, drunk Winston.”
Roosevelt smiled, “Could be worse—could be us. Get me a drink, will you.”
Stimson obliged and got himself one as well.
Sitting on the yellow sofa, Stimson said,
“You know, Franklin, we could do far, far worse than dealing with these people. Churchill goes on and on with his bullshit about ‘English Speaking Peoples’ and all that claptrap but we have to be realistic—our two countries border the Pacific. The French and Dutch are moribund, Chang is a toady and is completely unreliable, and if the British lose Singapore then they are finished in Asia, and that means they are finished as an empire. Let’s see what happens. And I don’t know about you, but I think I can work with Nomura. He’s modest, reliable, sober and polite, essentially the opposite of the Lisper.”