Triumph by Ben Bova

Author:Ben Bova [Bova, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 1994-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Washington, D.C., April 14

Roosevelt was sitting at his desk in the Oval Office, golden afternoon sunshine lighting the tall windows behind him.

“Yes, Winston, I agree,” he was saying into the phone. “This changes everything. I have already spoken with our ambassador in Moscow. Harry Hopkins is on his way to meet the new leaders, and I will speak with Molotov later today. As I understand it, things are in a considerable turmoil over there.”

General Marshall watched the President’s face and waited to hear the word “Berlin.” He knew Churchill would bring it up again.

Beside Marshall sat Henry Stimson, the Secretary of War. A gentleman from the old school, lean, reserved, almost seventy-seven years old, Stimson had served every president since Woodrow Wilson. He was a Republican, and he could be flinty at times. But he had Roosevelt’s absolute trust, and Marshall’s unreserved admiration.

The third man facing the desk was Bill Donovan, looking more like a Wall Street lawyer—which he had been—than the head of the intelligence organization, the innocuously named Office of Strategic Services. He puffed nervously on a cigarette as Roosevelt chatted with Churchill.

Finally, “I’ll call you later this evening, Winston, about that. We have a lot of thinking to do, and we have to do it quickly … . Yes, I agree … . Yes. If we can, I think we should, yes … . Very well, Winston. I’ll ring you back about midnight, your time … . Good. Until then.”

The three men waited expectantly as the President put the phone down.

Roosevelt was silent for a moment, then he asked Donovan, “Bill, what’s going on inside the Kremlin now?”

“Hard to tell, Mr. President.”

“The Russian armies have stopped their advances,” General Marshall volunteered. “That may be for resupply, before they launch their assault on Berlin. Or it may be for political reasons. We can’t tell.”

“Henry,” the President turned to Stimson, “if you were sitting behind this desk, what would you do?”

Stimson, dressed as usual in a dark three-piece suit with his Phi Beta Kappa key on a gold chain, looked up at the ceiling, as if for inspiration. “I would move ahead just as planned. I would wait to see some indication from the Russians as to how this sudden change in leadership is going to effect them.”

“There is one thing that we ought to keep in mind,” Donovan said. “Goering is willing to surrender all the German forces on the western and Italian fronts.”

“So that they can be moved against the Russians,” Marshall added, his voice crisp with disdain.

“Winston still wants us to take Berlin,” said the President.

The three men fell silent.

“Could we do it?” Roosevelt asked.

“I don’t think there’s much fight left in the German armies facing us,” Donovan said.

“There is bound to be some confusion among the Russians,” said Stimson. “At least for the next few days. Perhaps longer. There may be a power struggle in the Kremlin. I understand they have already liquidated Beria.”

“General Marshall,” asked the President, “what do you say?”

A thousand thoughts raced through Marshall’s mind.

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