The Winds of War

ft bellies. His father's ambition, he knew, was flag rank in the Navy. Warren wanted that, but why not dream of more? Janice Lacouture had brains. She had everything. A single day had

ng to the broadcast, had sent the Wehrmacht rolling two million strong into Poland "inself-defense"was narrated with the same matter-of-fact briskness as the report of the plunge of the Germans across Polish soil, and of the surprise collapse of the Polish border divisions. Obviously an invasion of this magnitude had been laid on for a month or more and had been surging irreversibly toward Poland for days; the Polish 'attack" was a silly hoax for childish minds. Victor Henry was getting used to Berlin Radio's foggy mixture of facts and lies, but the contempt of the Nazis for the intelligence of the Germans could still surprise him. The propaganda had certainly achieved one aimto muffle the impact of the new war. Rhoda came yawning in, tying her negligee, and cocking her head at the radio. "Well! So he really went and did it. Isn't that something!" 'Sorry it woke you. I tried to keep it low." 'Oh, the telephone woke me. Was it the embassy?" Pug nodded. "I thought so. Well, I guess I should be up for this. We're not going to get in it, are we?" 'Most unlikely. I'm not even sure England and France will go to bat." 'How about the children, Pug?" "Well, Warren and Madeline are no problem. The word is that Italy won't fight, so Byron should be okay, too." Rhoda sighed, and yawned. 'Hitler's a very strange person. I've decided that. What a way to act! I liked his handshake, sort of direct and manly like an American's, and that charming bashful little smile. But he had strange eyes, you know? Remote, and sort of veiled. Say, what happens to our dinner for that tycoon from Colorado? What's his name? Will that be off?" "Dr. Kirby. He may not get here now, Rhoda." "Dear, please find out. I have guests coming, and extra help and food, you know." 'I'll do my best." Rhoda said slowly, "World War Two... You know, Time has been writing about 'World War Two' for months. It always seemed so unreal, somehow. Now here it is, but it still has a funny ring." 'You'll soon get used to it." 'Oh, no doubt it's on now. I'm supposed to have lunch with SaBy Forrest. I'd better find out if that's still on. What a mess! And my hair appointment-oh, no, that's tomorrow. Or is it? I don't function this time of the morning." Because of the early meeting, Pug gave up his cherished five-mile morning walk to the embassy, and drove there. Berlin was, if anything, quieter than usual. There was a Sunday morning look to the tree-lined avenues in mid-city, a slackening of auto traffic, a scarcity of people on the sidewalks. All the shops were open. Small trucks with machine guns at the ready, manned by helmeted soldiers, stood at some intersections,

ut something. And if you get any word, let me know." Jastrow coughed again. 'Sorry. I have a touch of bronchitis. I remember the last war SO well) Commander! It really wasn't long ago, was it? All this is giving me a strange, terribly sad feeling. Almost despairing. I hope we'll meet one day. It would give me pleasure to know Byron's father. He worships you." The long table in Borcher's restaurant was a listening post, an information exchange, and a clearing house for little diplomatic deals. Today, the cheery clink of silverware in the crowded restaurant, the smell of roast meats, the loud animated talk, were much the same; but at this special table there were changes. Several attaches had put on their uniforms. The Pole-a big cheerful Purple-faced man with great moustaches, who usually outdrank everybody-was gone. The Englishman was missing. TheFrench attache, in heavy gold braid, gloomed in his usual place. The comical Dane, senior among them, white-haired and fat, still wore his white linen suit; but he was stiff and quiet. The talk was constrained. Warsaw Radio claimed the Germans were being thrown back, but nobody could confirm that. On the contrary, the flashes from their capitals echoed Gerfnan boasts: victory everywhere, hundreds of Polish planes smashed on the ground, whole armies surrounded. Pug ate little and left early. Pamela Tudsbury leaned against the iron grillwork in front of the embassy, near the line of sad-looking Jews that stretched around the block. She wore the gray suit of their morning walk on the Bremen. "Well," he said, as they walked side by Side, "SO the little tramp went.She gave b'len a surprised, flattered look. "Didn)t he ever! Here's our

ob, And you know it must be done." "Tell them that in Washington."Don't you think I will? You tell them, too.2) Henry said through the car window, "Good-bye, Pam. Happy landings." She put out a cold white hand, with a melancholy smile. "I hope You'll see your son soon. I have a feeling you Will." The Mercedes drove off. Lighting a cigarette, Pug caught on his hand the faint carnation scent. A big lean man in a pepper-and-salt suit, with a soft hat on his knees, was sitting in Henry's outer office. Henry did not realize how big he was until he stood up; he was six feet three orso, and he stooped and looked a little ashamed of his height, like many overgrown men. "COnlmander Henry? I'm Palmer Kirby, he said. "If you're busy just throw me out." "Not at all- Welcome. How'd you get here?" "Well, it took some doing. I had to dodge around through Belgium and Norway. Some planes are flying, some aren't." Kirby had an awkward manner, and somewhat rustic western speech. His pale face was Pitted, as though he had once been a bad acne sufferer. He had a long nose and a large loose mouth; altogether an ugly man, with clever mrinIded eyes and a sad look. The yeoman said, 'Commander, sir, couple of priority messages on your desk." 'Very well. Come in, Dr. Kirby." Pug sized him up with relief as a serious fellow out to get a job done; not the troublesome sort who wanted women, a good time, and an introduction to high-placed Nazis. A dinner and some industrial contacts would take care of Palmer Kirby. WARSAW 9 -z -39BYRON HENRY NATALM JASTROW SCRMDULED LEAVE CRACOW TODAY FOR BUg ST AND ROME AM EMEAVORING.CONFMM DEPAR'rURE. Slote. This dispatch, in teletyped strips on a gray department blank, gave Henry an evil qualm. In the afternoon bulletins, Berlin Radio was claiming a victorious thrust toward Cracow after a violent air bombardment. The other message, a slip of the charge d'affaires' office stationery, was an unsigned scrawled sentence: Please see me at once. Kirby said he would be glad to wait. Victor Henry walked down the hall to the richly furnished suite of the ambassador where the charge had held the staff meeting. The charge looked at him over his half-moon glasses and waved at an armchair. 'So you were at the Reichstag, eh? I heard part of it. How did it strike you?" 'The man's punch-drunk." The charge looked surprised and thoughtful. 'qbat's an odd reaction. It's true he's had quite a week. Incredible stamina, though. He undoubtedly wrote every word of that harangue. Rather effective, I thought. What was the mood there?" "Not happy." 'No, they have their misgivings this time around, don't they? Strange atmosphere in this city." The charge took off his glasses and leaned back in his large, leather-covered chair, resting the back of his head on interlaced fingers. 'You're wanted in Washington." "Sec Nay?" Pug blurted. 'No. State Department, German desk. You're to proceed to Washington by fastest available transportation, civilian or military, highest priority, prepared to stay not more than one week in Washington, and then to return to your post here. No other instructions. Nothing in writing. That's it." For twenty-five years Victor Henry had not made a move like this without papers from the Navy Department, orders stencilled and mimeographed with a whole sheaf of copiesto be left at stops on the way. Even his vacations had been 'qeaves" ordered by the Navy. The State Department had no jurisdiction over him. Still, an attache had a queer shadowy status. His mind moved at once to executing the assignment. "If I have nothing in writing, how do I get air priorities?" "You'll get them. How soon can you go?" Commander Henry stared at the charge, and then tried a smile. The charge smiled back. Henry said, "This is somewhat unusual." "You sent in an intelligence report, I'm given to understand, on the combat readiness of Nazi Germany?" "I did." "That may have something to do with it. In any case, the idea seems to be that you pack a toothbrush and leave." "You mean today? Tonight?" "Yes." Pug stood. "Plight. What's the late word on England and France?" "Chamberlain's addressing Parliament tonight. My guess is the war Will be on before you get back." "Maybe it'll be over." "in Poland, possibly." The charge smiled, and seemed taken aback when Henry failed to be amused. The commander found Dr. Kirby, long legs sprawled, reading a German industrial journal and smoking a pipe, which, with blackrimmed glasses, much enhanced his professorial look. 'I'll have to turn you over to Colonel Forrest, our military attache, Dr. Kirby," he said. "Sorry the Navy can't do the courtesies. I'll be leaving tovrn "Right.tt for a week." "Can you give me an idea of what you're after?" Dr. Kirby took from his breast pocket a typewritten sheet. "Well, no problem here," Pug said, scanning it. 'I know most of these people. I imagine Colonel Forrest does, too. Now, Mrs. Henry has a dinner laid on for you, Thursday evening. As a matter of fact"-Henry tapped the sheet-"Dr. Witten will be one of the guests."'Won't your wife prefer to call it off? I'm not really much on dinner parties." "Neither am I, but a German's a different person in his office than he is at a table after a few glasses of wine. Not a setup, you understand, but different. So dinners are useful." Kirby smiled, uncovering large yellow teeth and quite changing his expression to a humorous, coarse, tough look. He flourished the trade journal-"They don't seem to be setups, any way you look at them." "Yes and no. I've just come from the Reichstag-They've sure been a setup for this character Hitler. Well, let me take you across the hall to Colonel Forrest. It may be he and Sally will host the dinner. We'll see." Driving home through the quiet Berlin streets Pug thought less about the summons to Washington than of the immediate problem-Rhoda and how to handle her, and whether to disclose that Byron was missing. The trip to the United States might well prove a waste of time; to speculate on the reason for it was silly. He had been on such expeditions before. Somebody high up wanted certain answers in a hurry-answers that perhaps did not exist-and started burning up the wires. Once he had flown three thousand miles during a fleet exercise only to find, on his arrival aboard the 'Blue" flagship in Mindanao, that his services were no longer required, because the battle problem had moved past the gunnery sconng. She was not at home. By the time she got back, he was strapping shut his suitcases. "Now what on earth?" she said breezily. Her hair was whirled and curled. They had been invited to an opera party that evening. "Come out in the garden." He told her, when they were well away from the house, about the strange Washington summons. 'Oh, lord. For how long?" 'Not more than a week. If the Clippers keep flying, I should be back by the fifteenth." "When do you go? First thing tomorrow?" "Well, by luck, they've got me on a plane to Rotterdam at eight tonight." 'Tonight!" Vexation distorted Rhoda's face. "You mean we don't even get to go to the opera? Oh, damn. And what about that Kirby fellow? Is that on or off? How can I entertain a person I haven't even met? What an aggravating mess!' Pug said the Forrests would be co-hosting the Kirby dinner, and that the opera might not be on. "On? Of course it's on. I saw Frau Witten at the hairdresser's. They're planning a Marvelous supper, but naturally I won't be there. I'm not going to the opera unescorted. Oh, hell. And suppose England and France declare war? How about that, hey? That's going to be just peachy, me stranded alone in Berlin in themiddle of a world wart" I'll get back in any case via Lisbon or Copenhagen. Don't worry. I'd like you to go ahead with the Kirby thing. BuOrd wants the red carpet out for him." They were sitting on a marble bench beside the little fountain, where large goldfish disported in the late sunshine. Rhoda looked around at the close-cropped lawn, and said in a calmer tone, "All right. I've been planning cocktails out here-Those musicians who played at Peggy's tea are co