A thousand suns

‘So, according to Hitler’s telegram, he intends to make a demonstration of this weapon whatever course of action we take. If he really does have a weapon, that is. And, if we fail to give him what he wants, he’ll do it again. Which means, gentlemen,’ Truman said, carefully laying out his thoughts, ‘that he’s telling us he has more than one of these weapons. That’s a very frightening claim.’

Truman’s gaze drifted to one of the tall, elegant windows that looked out onto the White House lawn. ‘So, we know there’s a plane on its way over, there’s a chance they have something inside that we might have reason to fear. If they can do it once…’ The President let the men around the table finish the sentence for themselves.

‘Despite the fact that Hitler wants to make a demonstration, if we agree promptly to his terms, then perhaps there is time left that he can order this plane around,’ Truman added, to the consternation of some of the leading military representatives. ‘I’m sorry, gentlemen. I can’t afford to delay this any longer. If there’s just a chance this bomb is for real, I have only one choice. We will accept his terms.’

The room erupted with a chorus of voices.

‘The people of this country won’t accept that, sir!’ said the Secretary of the Department of the Interior, Harold Ickes. He turned to the man sitting next to him, the Secretary for the Treasury, Henry Morgenthau. ‘Harry?’

Morgenthau agreed. ‘And what about our allies? We haven’t consulted with — ’

‘Screw our allies! It looks like the Nazi sons-of-bitches are after us, not them!’ shouted Admiral Leahy. ‘And anyway, if the Russians manage to get their hands on this technology, they’ll use it on us. We have no choice but to turn this around and square up to Russia. I’m with the President.’

‘Mr President?’ Wallace called out quietly; his voice was all but lost in the noise. The chorus of responses grew louder, as it escalated to a shouting match between the Joint Chiefs and several of Truman’s cabinet.

‘That is outrageous!’ shouted Morgenthau. ‘The people of America will not accept this! Mr President, sir, there is no way that America can be seen to surrender to Germany, not now, not now that they are beaten. For crying out loud, there are Russians in Berlin… only miles from Hitler. It’s all over — ’

‘That’s right, Russians in Berlin! If they haven’t already come across whatever atomic project the Germans have put together, they almost certainly will!’

Wallace surveyed the scene. The President sat back dispassionately and watched the heated debate without any emotion. He looked like a spent force, drained of energy by this act of submission. It seemed everyone else in the room was talking, except the President and Wallace himself, who was beginning to see a possible, although inelegant, way through this mess.

Truman wearily cast his eyes around the assembly of men and advisers who had each, it seemed, been able to offer him little help in his hour of need. He spotted Wallace. The young man had raised his hand like a timid child in a raucous classroom. Truman was touched by the young man’s courtesy and grace.

‘Mr President, sir?’ said Wallace quietly.

Truman raised both his arms to quieten down the meeting. As their voices dropped he turned back to Wallace. ‘Since you seem to be the only one here with any manners, young man… let’s hear what it is you’ve got to say.’

‘Mr President, that communique suggested the B-17 was damaged, yes?’

‘Yes, I believe it did.’

‘With all due respect, may I make a suggestion, sir?’ Wallace said. ‘That we send Hitler our surrender. But this doesn’t pass through normal channels, not through General Eisenhower. Equally, we do not inform Prime Minister Churchill, or, of course, Stalin.’

The noise in the conference room quickly petered out.

‘It is a communication directly between yourself and him… a personal dialogue, a gentleman’s agreement, if you will. We know that Adolf Hitler now no longer possesses effective communication with his people or his troops. In fact, the only centre of communication they have left is in Norway. We send our surrender, and we wait. If nothing happens by, say, nine o’clock tonight, we retract it. Hitler will have had our surrender in his hands for only a few hours. I dare say, with the Russians still going about their business in the suburbs of Berlin, he won’t be able to stick his head out of the bunker and shout out about winning the war. He will have no one to celebrate this news with other than those people sharing his bunker with him.’

Truman nodded, and Wallace noted Donovan smiling proudly.

‘If this does turn out to be a bluff, or this B-17 fails to make it across, then no one need ever know we took this seriously. No one need ever know that the United States of America surrendered to the Germans, even if it was for just a few hours.’

Chapter 52

Mission Time: 20 Hours, 10 Minutes Elapsed

10.15 p.m., the Fuhrer’s bunker, Berlin