Winter of the World

‘Really?’ Woody was more mystified than annoyed. ‘Nice round tits, pretty face – what’s not to like? I’d have kissed her, if I wasn’t with Joanne.’

‘We all have different tastes.’

They started to walk back towards their parents’ apartment. ‘Well, what is your type, then?’ Woody asked Chuck.

‘There’s something I should probably explain to you, before you plan any more double dates.’

‘Okay, what?’

Chuck stopped, forcing Woody to do the same. ‘You have to swear never to tell Papa and Mama.’

‘I swear.’ Woody studied his brother in the yellow light of the street lamps. ‘What’s the big secret?’

‘I don’t like girls.’

‘A pain in the ass, I agree, but what are you going to do?’

‘I mean, I don’t like to hug and kiss them.’

‘What? Don’t be stupid.’

‘We’re all made differently, Woody.’

‘Yeah, but you’d have to be some kind of pansy.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, I’m some kind of pansy.’

‘You’re such a kidder.’

‘I’m not kidding, Woody, I’m dead serious.’

‘You’re queer?’

‘That’s exactly what I am. I didn’t choose to be. When we were kids, and we started jerking off, you used to think about bouncy tits and hairy cunts. I never told you that I used to think about big stiff cocks.’

‘Chuck, this is disgusting!’

‘No, it’s not. It’s the way some guys are made. More guys than you think – especially in the navy.’

‘There are pansies in the navy?’

Chuck nodded vigorously. ‘A lot.’

‘Well . . . how do you know?’

‘We usually recognize one another. Like Jews always know who’s Jewish. For example, the waiter in the Chinese restaurant.’

‘He was one?’

‘Didn’t you hear him say he liked my jacket?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t think anything of it.’

‘There you are.’

‘He was attracted to you?’

‘I guess.’

‘Why?’

‘Same reason Diana liked me, probably. Hell, I’m better-looking than you.’

‘This is weird.’

‘Come on, let’s go home.’

They continued on their way. Woody was still reeling. ‘You mean there are Chinese pansies?’

Chuck laughed. ‘Of course!’

‘I don’t know, you never think of Chinese guys being that way.’

‘Remember, not a word to anyone, especially the parents. God knows what Papa would say.’

After a while, Woody put his arm around Chuck’s shoulders. ‘Well, what the hell,’ he said. ‘At least you’re not a Republican.’

(iii)

Greg Peshkov sailed with Sumner Welles and President Roosevelt on a heavy cruiser, the Augusta, to Placentia Bay, off the coast of Newfoundland. Also in the convoy were the battleship Arkansas, the cruiser Tuscaloosa, and seventeen destroyers.

They anchored in two long lines, with a broad sea passage down the middle. At nine o’clock in the morning of Saturday 9 August, in bright sunshine, the crews of all twenty vessels mustered at the rails in their dress whites as the British battleship Prince of Wales arrived, escorted by three destroyers, and steamed majestically down the middle, bearing Prime Minister Churchill.

It was the most impressive show of power Greg had ever seen, and he was delighted to be part of it.

He was also worried. He hoped the Germans did not know about this rendezvous. If they found out, one U-boat could kill the two leaders of what remained of Western civilization – and Greg Peshkov.

Before leaving Washington, Greg had met with the detective, Tom Cranmer, again. Cranmer had produced an address, a house in a low-rent neighbourhood on the far side of Union Station. ‘She’s a waitress at the University Women’s Club near the Ritz-Carlton, which is why you saw her in that neighbourhood twice,’ he had said as he pocketed the balance of his fee. ‘I guess acting didn’t work out for her – but she still goes by Jacky Jakes.’

Greg had written her a letter.

Dear Jacky,

I just want to know why you ran out on me six years ago. I thought we were so happy, but I must have been wrong. It bugs me, that’s all.

You act scared when you see me, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not angry, just curious. I would never do anything to hurt you. You were the first girl I ever loved.

Can we meet, just for a cup of coffee or something, and talk?

Very sincerely,

Greg Peshkov

He had added his phone number and mailed the note the day he left for Newfoundland.

The President was keen that the conference should result in a joint statement. Greg’s boss, Sumner Welles, wrote a draft, but Roosevelt refused to use it, saying it was better to let Churchill produce the first draft.