The Final Storm - Jeff Shaara [230]
32. TRUMAN
NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN, ON BOARD THE USS AUGUSTA
AUGUST 6, 1945
The Potsdam Conference was four days behind them, and Truman was desperate to return home to a place where intrigue and the annoying rituals of duplicity didn’t infest every minute of the day.
He had sought out news every day of any Japanese response to the Potsdam Declaration, the joint communication issued on July 26 to the Japanese government, which spelled out precisely what the Allied powers expected from them in order that the war be brought to a close. Those who had signed the declaration included Truman, Churchill, and China’s Chiang Kai-shek. Despite months of entreaties from both Truman and Churchill, the Soviets had been unwilling to actually declare war on Japan. Thus Stalin would have no say in just what the declaration called for. Truman’s ongoing irritation with Stalin had been the greatest pill he had to swallow at Potsdam, and Churchill’s continuing friendship and counsel had been extremely welcome. Churchill had learned that drinking Stalin under the table seemed to be the most effective way to win his friendship, and no one had been more suited to that effort than Churchill. Unfortunately for Truman, he could never keep up in anyone’s hard-core drinking contest. Truman had quickly learned that Stalin had no interest in conceding any meaningful diplomatic ground, and Truman had no reason to believe that putting the president of the United States into a drunken stupor would have made much difference. As the meetings had begun to wind down, Churchill’s role had suddenly come to an abrupt halt. In a shock that was still reverberating around the world, the British people had apparently had their fill of their wartime government. It was coincidence that the British elections should fall while the Allies’most powerful leaders were at Potsdam. For reasons no one in Truman’s coterie could fathom, the British electorate had tossed Churchill’s party out the door. Thus, the prime minister who had led the British people through some of the darkest days of their existence had suddenly been turned out to pasture, replaced by the likable but undramatic Clement Attlee. No one was more surprised than Attlee himself.
Truman sat with the ship’s senior officers, the lunch the usual fare for senior naval personnel, something Truman had come to enjoy.
“I do not understand the British. How on earth they could pull the rug out from under the man who … well, in my opinion anyway, has to be the greatest statesman alive on this planet … well, I do not understand. But that’s why we have elections, and there are many in Washington who are certainly anticipating that once my inherited term has expired, the rug in my case shall be thin indeed.”
The others smiled, polite as always, not even the ship’s captain intruding onto Truman’s conversation except by invitation. He had become a little annoyed by that, did not want to be treated as royalty, not by men he had hoped would accept him as more down-to-earth than his predecessor. The eating continued, no one responding, and Truman tasted the soup again, thought, I suppose they have no choice. I’m the damn boss, and military men respect that more than anyone.
The door to the captain’s mess was pulled open by a young security officer, and Truman saw his map room officer, Captain Frank Graham, slip quickly into the room.
“Sir, all apologies for interrupting your lunch. I thought you should see this as quickly as possible.”
“Let’s have it, Frank.”
Graham handed the paper to Truman, who read it silently, then sat back, felt a burst of energy, looked at the faces, the officers trying not to appear too curious.
“Gentlemen, you will hear greater details of this soon enough. Allow me to be the first to inform you. Probably appropriate that way.