Flowers From Berlin
Noel Hynd
We know of new methods of attack; the Trojan Horse, the Fifth. Column that betrays a nation unprepared for treachery. Spies, saboteurs and traitors are the actors in this new tragedy.
We Americans have always been blessed with great leaders at crucial times. Washington at our birth. Jefferson at our first age of crisis. Lincoln at the Civil War and Wilson for the first world war. And then Roosevelt.
What if there had been no Roosevelt?
1950
William T. Cochrane, Banker and Educator, Dies at 90
By Abigail McFedries (Special to The New York Times)
Published: November 28, 1996
William Thomas Cochrane, an economist, author, banker, retired F.B.I. agent and university professor, died on Thursday at his home in Newton, Massachusetts. He was 90.
The cause was a cerebral hemorrhage, said his daughter, Carolyn.
Mr. Cochrane enjoyed a long and distinguished career in several fields spanning the Twentieth Century. He was most proud, however, of his little known service to his country during World War Two…
Cambridge,
Massachusetts
May 1984
PROLOGUE
Memorial Hall, on the fringes of Harvard Yard, is the quintessence of old-guard university architecture. Ivy climbs its aged white columns and red brick walls in abundance. Built in tribute to the Harvard men who perished in wartime, the hall maintains a quiet, timeless dignity amid the bustle and clamor of Cambridge. Yet on the final day of spring term in May of 1984, even Memorial Hall was alive with excitement. Students who might otherwise be on their way to the Cape or to the beaches of the North Shore on an impeccably sunny morning were busy jockeying for seats in the great lecture hall, rousing and crowding out the ghosts of other eras.
Undergraduates had completely packed the sprawling, multi-tiered amphitheater by 10 A.M. Political Science 217 was concluding for the semester. Today was the final lecture. But it was the lecture, the one Dr. William Thomas Cochrane of the Economics Department gave every year. And every year, as the students put it, it was a 'sell out.' No extra places in the eight-hundred-seat hall, even though the topic was never covered on final exams.
Dr. Cochrane gave the lecture each year because it added that ineffable extra insight into the course. It put things in perspective. Poli Sci 217. American Political Systems in Wartime; 1917-18,1941-45. Today's topic, 'Roosevelt and the World War.' Harvard students had their own nickname for the close-out lecture: 'Poli Spy 217.' Even at age seventy-eight, Bill Cochrane could still pack a house.
Dr. Cochrane entered the lecture hall a few minutes before ten. He was a man comfortable in tweeds and a tie and who wore his age with equal grace. Tall and sturdy, his shoulders were still straight. His hair was thinning and flecked with gray, but surprisingly dark. His one concession to age: reading glasses of a stronger prescription than he had worn back when he had worked for the government- below cabinet level during the Eisenhower and Kennedy years.
There was a woman a few years younger than the lecturer seated at the far left of the first row. Had she opened her mouth to speak, they would have known she was English, though she had spent the last half century losing the intonations of her birthplace. She was, had anyone looked closely, the paradigm of the patrician English lady of her day. She had a pleasant face and a clear complexion. She wore a dark green cardigan sweater and a wool skirt. A few years earlier, she had given up the pretense of chasing age from her hair, so now she was very frankly gray. But her hair was arranged in a neat bun and she remained very pretty in an uncommon, aristocratic way. Men who noticed her did not immediately take their eyes off her. It had always been that way.
At 10 A.M., without a cue, the students quieted. Copies of The Harvard Crimson rustled as they were folded into notebooks. Dr. Cochrane looked up from the lectern-he always spoke without notes- removed his reading glasses, paced a few feet from the front center of the hall, and in his unmistakable yet unassuming way took control of the class.
'Roosevelt and the War,' Dr. Cochrane said by way of introduction. He spoke in a clear, concise voice. 'You'll allow me, I hope, a bit of historical speculation over the next ninety minutes. You will indulge me, I hope, the opportunity to suggest what might have been, in addition to what was.'
He paced thoughtfully near the front row of students. He felt his audience settling in with him.
'For any of you who are recent transfers from New Haven or any other institution,' he digressed momentarily, 'we are discussing the second Roosevelt. And the second world war.'
A ripple of laughter eased across the amphitheater.
'August 3, 1939,' the popular emeritus professor began, recalling his material vividly. He spoke in a bold voice that filled the hall. The students were already entranced. The Englishwoman permitted herself a smile. She remembered also.
'Washington, D.C. Ninety-one degrees of city-wide steam bath for the fifth day in a row…'
PART ONE
Washington, D.C. and New York
1939
ONE
August 3, 1939. Washington, D.C. Ninety-one degrees of city-wide steam bath for the fifth day in a row. A relentless sun and a humidity unfit for any living, breathing creature. Six more weeks of summer in the American
