plan filed months earlier, for combined American and British convoying.
“What? Yes, put him on…. Hello? Henry speaking.”
“Am I disturbing you, dear boy? That’s quite a bark.”
“No, not at all. What’s up?”
“What do you make of the President’s press conference?”
“I didn’t know he’d had one.”
“You
“Wait a minute. They should be here.”
Pug’s yeoman brought in two newspapers smelling of fresh ink. The headlines were huge:
and
Skimming the stories, Pug saw that Franklin Roosevelt had blankly taken back his whole radio speech, claiming the reporters had misunderstood it. There would be no stepped-up United States action in the Atlantic, north or south. He had never suggested that. Patrolling, not convoying, would go on as before. No Army troops or marines would be sent to Iceland or anywhere else. All he had been trying to do was warn the nation that great danger existed.
Tudsbury, who could hear the pages turning, said, “Well? Tell me something encouraging.”
“I thought I understood Franklin Roosevelt,” Pug Henry muttered.
Tudsbury said, “What’s that? Victor, our people have been ringing church bells and dancing in the streets over last night’s speech. Now I have to broadcast and tell about this press conference.”
“I don’t envy you.”
“Can you come over for a drink?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Please try. Pam’s leaving.”
“What?”
“She’s going home, leaving on a boat tonight. She’s been pestering them for weeks to let her return to Blighty.”
“Let me call you back.”
He told his yeoman to telephone an old shipmate of his, Captain Feller, at the office of the Chief of Naval Operations.
“Hello, Soapy? Pug. Say, have you seen the papers about that press conference?… Yes, I quite agree. Well, now, next question. This Convoy Annex Four. Do you still want it by tonight?… Now, Soapy, that’s a rude suggestion, and it’s an awfully bulky annex. Moreover I hope we’ll use it one day… . Okay. Thanks.”
Pug hit the buzzer. “Call Tudsbury. I’m coming over.”
“The funny part is,” Pug said to Tudsbury, Rhoda said he pussy footed around. I was taken in.”
“Maybe it needs a woman to follow that devious mind,” said the correspondent. “Pam, where are your manners? Pug’s here to say good-bye to you. Come in and have your drink.”
“In a minute. My things are all in a slop.” They could see Pamela moving in the corridor, carrying clothes, books, and valises here and there. They sat in the small living room of Tudsbury’s apartment off Connecticut Avenue, hot and airless despite open windows through which afternoon traffic noise and sunlight came streaming.
Tudsbury, sprawling on a sofa in a massively wrinkled Palm Beach suit, with one thick leg up, heaved sigh. “I shall be alone again. There’s a girl who is all self, self, self.”
“Family trait,” called the dulcet voice from out of sight.
“Shut up. Please, Pug, give me something comforting to say in this bloody broadcast.”
“I can’t think of a thing.”
Tudsbury took a large drink of neat whiskey and heavily shook his head. “What’s happened to Franklin Roosevelt? The Atlantic convoy route is the jugular vein of civilization. The Huns are sawing at it with a razor. He
“I’ll have my drink now,” said Pamela, striding in. “Don’t you think you should be going, governor?”
He held his tumbler out to her. “One more. I have never been more reluctant to face a microphone. I have stage fright. My tongue will cleave to the roof of my mouth.
“Oh yes. Just as it’s doing now.” Pamela took his glass and Pug’s to the small wheeled bar.
“Put in more ice. I’ve caught that decadent American habit. Pug, the Empire’s finished. We’re nothing but an outpost of forty millions, with a strong navy and a plucky air force. Why, man, we’re your Hawaii in the Atlantic, many times as big and powerful and crucial. Oh, I could make one hell of a broadcast about how preposterous your policy is!”
“Thanks, Pam,” Pug said. “I agree with you, Tudsbury. So does the Secretary of the Army. So does Harry Hopkins. They’ve both made speeches urging convoy now. I have no defense of the President’s policy. It’s a disaster. Cheers.”
“Cheers. Yes, and it’s
“The United States Navy is ready,” Pug shot back. “I’ve been working like a bastard all day on a general operation order for convoy. When I saw those headlines, it was like my desk blowing up in my face.”
“Good God, man, can I say that? Can I say that the Navy, before this press conference, was preparing to start convoying?”
“Are you crazy? I’ll shoot you if you do.”
“I don’t have to quote you. Please.”
Pug shook his head.
“Can I say your Navy is ready to go over to convoy on a twenty-four hours’ notice? Is that true?”
“Why, of course it’s true. We’re out there now. We’ve got the depth charges on ready. All we have to do is uncover and train out the guns.”
Tudsbury’s bulging eyes were alive now and agleam. Pug, I want to say that.”
“Say what?”
“That the United States Navy is ready to go over to convoy and expects to do it soon.”
Pug hesitated only a second or two. “Oh, what the hell. Sure, say it! You can hear that from anybody in the service from CNO down. Who doesn’t know that?”
“The British, that’s who. You’ve saved me.” Tudsbury rounded on his daughter. “And you told me not to telephone him, you stupid baggage! Blazes, I’m late.” The fat man lumbered out.
Pug said to Pamela, “That isn’t news.”
“Oh, he has to work himself up. He’ll make it sound like something. He’s rather clutching at straws.”
She sat with her back to the window. The sun in her brown hair made an aureole around her pallid sad face.
“Why did you tell him not to phone me?”
She looked embarrassed. “I know how hard you’re working.”
“Not that hard.”
“I meant to ring you before I left.” She glanced down at her intertwined fingers, and reached him a mimeographed document from the coffee table. “Have you seen this?”
It was the British War Office’s instructions to civilians for dealing with German invaders. Pug said, leafing through it, “I read a lot of this stuff last fall. It’s pretty nightmarish, when you start picturing the Germans driving
