Target Churchill

Chapter 25

The lunch over, Churchill was given an upstairs bedroom for a short nap. Afterward, he dressed and joined Truman in the study, where he was engaged in quietly reading a mimeographed copy of Churchill’s speech. Truman acknowledged Churchill’s presence with a nod and continued reading. In a short while, they would be summoned to leave for the site of the event. Churchill lit a cigar and watched the president as he continued to read.

He weighed showing the president his scrawled marginal paragraph about the “iron curtain” reference, but decided against it. He would hear it soon enough.

Instead, he patiently awaited the outcome, well aware that his remarks might be judged inflammatory in the current political climate, especially in the United States. Truman’s face revealed nothing of what he might be thinking. Churchill knew his speech was breaking new ground in postwar thinking, but he was determined to express what he believed was an accurate cautionary portrayal of the truth.

Hadn’t he done the same in warning the British about Hitler’s designs years before the monster had thrown down the gauntlet. Indeed, he was not modest about referring to those gadfly years in the speech. People castigated him for his views then, especially after Chamberlain came back from his conference with Hitler and told the nation he had negotiated a pact that would give the British peace in our time. Poor Neville, he thought, a sad figure who chose the wrong side of history. Peace in our time had been an illusion. He was very much afraid that such a wish in the case of the Russians was just as illusory.

“These are harsh accusations, Winston,” Truman said.

Apparently, the president had finished his reading. His expression revealed that he was none too happy.

“Harsh, yes, Harry,” Winston replied. “But remember these are my words, my analysis, not yours.”

Truman took off his glasses, wiped them, and held them up to the light.

“Of course, I will entertain any suggestions you might have to alter the speech, Harry.”

Truman nodded and rubbed his chin. Churchill knew that his offer was merely protocol. He was certain that Truman would honor his views, which he might privately agree with. Nevertheless, he was quite prepared for criticism from the president after the speech. The important thing for Churchill was to get the message out, whatever the reaction.

“I wouldn’t think of asking you to change a word of it, Winston. Besides, you may be ahead of us on your theory. I’m afraid, though, the United States isn’t there yet. And there is always the hope that the Russians might be more forthcoming, especially with the United Nations now a reality.”

“I would like nothing better, Harry. Perhaps I have a jaundiced view of their intentions. In my opinion, these people want hegemony. They want their ideology to prevail. We of the West are seen as yesterday’s dishwater, failed nations, adhering to a rotten capitalistic system. They see themselves as the future….” Churchill shook his head. “…A future without freedom, a future without democracy, a future without any possibility of dissent. Note, Harry, I was quite circumspect. I did not attack their ideology per se, only their tactics in dealing with the rest of the world.”

Truman nodded then smiled thinly. He looked at the text and read from it.

“Who can argue with a man who writes this? ‘The Americans and the British must never cease to proclaim in fearless tones the great principles of freedom and the rights of man, which are the joint inheritance of the English-speaking world and which through the Magna Carta, the Bill of Rights, habeas corpus, trial by jury, and the English common law find their most famous expression in the American Declaration of Independence.’”

A long silence ensued as Truman looked directly into Churchill’s eyes.

“That statement forgives just about anything,” Truman said. “I wish I had speech writers that could write as well as you, Winston.”

“I offer my services then. I assure you, Harry, I am a better speech writer than a poker player.”

Truman laughed and shook his head.

“Aside from Stalin, who will be flummoxed, there’ll be lots of people pissed at me, Winston, for arranging the speech. But after they hear the speech and absorb all the gloom and doom, they’ll agree it does end on a note of optimism, Winston. I’ll give you that.”

“How do think the audience will react?”

“Respectfully, Winston. This is more like a lecture than a political stump speech, and obviously, you’re not just speaking to a tiny audience in a small Midwestern town. People here are restrained. Don’t expect any rousing reaction from the crowd other than appreciation and polite acceptance. But to the outside world, I think you’re setting off the opening gun of a new kind of conflict. Apparently, judging from the enormous interest of the press, there is much more here than I might have expected.”

“It is your presence, Harry, that makes this an event.”

“It could indicate my endorsement of your views, Winston,” Truman said, with an air of concern.

“Granted, Harry. But it will, in my opinion, further separate your own views from Mr. Roosevelt’s. But then, poor man, he did not live long enough to play the rejected suitor.”

He rebuked himself for the remark. It was unseemly and indicated his edginess. He adored Franklin, despite their differences, and wished never to besmirch his memory. Truman seemed to turn reflective. Perhaps his remark was offensive to the president, who had to live under the enormous weight of Roosevelt’s shadow.

“I must confess, Winston, that I still weigh my actions against his, always wondering how he would react. I regret I didn’t know him as well as you. I barely got to spend time with him.”

Churchill caught the resentment and realized he had foolishly opened up a raw wound and was instantly contrite.

“You need no more proof of your leadership, Harry, and I am honored by your willingness to make the introduction of this former prime minister. I would not have missed it for the world, and I pray that my words will not cause you grief.”

He was, at this moment, grateful for Sarah’s insistence that he accept the invitation. Little Sarah, he thought, with some emotion. Of his five children, he was more emotionally attached to his rebellious child than the others, although he loved them all equally. At odd moments of uncertainty like this, he would dwell on his family and what they meant to him.

He missed Clemmie above all, missed her wise counsel. Was he having second thoughts about his speech? Was he going too far? Was there an element of bitterness in it since he had got the boot as prime minister at a most critical time in world history? Had he the right to make such accusations? Was he upstaging his successor? Although he knew his outward appearance radiated confidence, he was subject to these occasional bouts of ambivalence. Had he stepped too far over the precipice? Was his timing right? Or was he to be characterized, as he had often been, as the bull in the china shop? There goes old Winnie again!

But then his thoughts lit upon Thompson’s revelations that morning about Maclean. Indeed, if Maclean was a planted Russian agent in the most sensitive overseas post of the British foreign office, one might speculate that there were others equally concealed. Here was a blatant example of Soviet fifth column intrigue. His speech had it dead right on that score.

He must inform Attlee of this as soon as this day was over. He was certain his successor would be appalled by his bizarre accidental discovery, although the information would probably raise serious doubts among those charged with such security. Nevertheless, he knew that Clement trusted his judgment in security matters and would act accordingly in the national interest. He hoped his advice would be taken on keeping Maclean in place to monitor his activity. It would give them a window on Soviet chicanery.

At that moment, he was tempted to tell the American President what he had discovered, but he desisted. It was not his place nor in his authority. Besides, he was certain that the British side would act properly and hopefully share the information. The self-restriction was not without resentment. He was not at all happy with being out of power, despite his gentlemanly façade of acceptance.

“Well then, Harry, I hope my words won’t put you in political danger.”

“Hell, Winston. If you can’t take the heat, get the hell out of the kitchen.”

Churchill was grateful for the vote of confidence.

“‘Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news,’” he quoted.

“Antony and Cleopatra,” Truman said chuckling. “Don’t be impressed, Winston, I’ve used that one often.”

“I, as well. The Bard has provided me with much to plagiarize.”

At that moment, one of the president’s aides came into the living room and announced that they were ready to start for the gymnasium.

“Well then, Mr. President,” Churchill said, “the fat is in the fire.”

Thompson, who had just come back into the house, heard Churchill’s closing remark. It did not put his mind at ease. He continued to be bothered by the nagging sense that he might have missed something. He moved close to Churchill.

An aide arrived to announce that the cars were loading for the short ride to the gymnasium. As they reached the car, Thompson requested that he be allowed to stand on the running board as the car moved toward the gymnasium. With the president of the college between Truman and Churchill and the Secret Service man sitting next to the driver, there was no room to shoehorn him into the car.

“Sorry, sir. Can’t allow that,” the Secret Service man had responded to his request.

“Really, sir, I do have my duty,” Thompson protested.

“We have the matter well in hand,” the Secret Service man replied, politely.

“I do insist,” Thompson said.

Churchill overheard the remark.

“It’s all right, Thompson. No need to hover.”

Churchill had often rebuked Thompson for what he called “excessive hovering.”

“With respect, sir….”

“Desist, Thompson. You are making a scene.”

“Sorry, sir,” Thompson said, surrendering, unable to chase his discomfort.