The Rising Tide: A Novel of World War II (14 page)

Cunningham held his pose, said, “General, I understand from your staff that you have not yet been informed of our latest triumph. Thus it is my honor to bring you some exceptionally positive news. May I do so?”

Eisenhower pointed to Clark’s chair. “Please, sit down, Admiral. Good news should be delivered from a comfortable position. If you have bad news, stay standing. That way you can get away quicker. Keeps me from killing the messenger.”

Cunningham smiled, took the advice, pulled Clark’s chair around, sat, one hand on his cane, his hat still under his arm.

“Reports have come in from Harold Alexander, in Cairo. We’ve given Rommel a heavy licking at El Alamein. Twenty thousand prisoners, and we destroyed maybe four hundred tanks, a good bit of artillery too. It took Monty a while to get going, but once he did, it was a masterstroke. Bloody as hell, as I hear it, but victory, nonetheless.”

“Thank God. Thank God.” Eisenhower paused, let out a long breath. “What’s Rommel’s situation now?”

“Full retreat, so we hear. Monty’s following up. Could make your job a damned sight easier, you know.”

“I’d rest a little easier if Rommel was in the bag.”

“Give Monty a chance. Needs a bit of prodding now and then, but he’ll handle it. I suspect this will take some pressure off Tunisia. The Jerries might be inclined to pull out before you even get there.”

“Not sure I agree with you. If Rommel escapes Montgomery, he’ll be moving west, straight for Tunisia. He might be whipped, and he might have lost most of his armor, but I can’t assume Hitler will abandon him. And, he’s still Rommel. I had hoped Monty might eliminate him altogether. Seems we may end up fighting his front instead of his rear.”

Cunningham seemed to concede the point. “At least, if you’re in front of him, Monty will be behind him. Same principle applies. Rommel will be pinched.”

Eisenhower thought, it can’t be that easy.

Cunningham moved on. “On the local front, one more bit of news. Intelligence reports the Jerries are preparing to give us a good wallop at Sicily. We’ll have our distress call on the air tonight. Ice the cake, so to speak.”

It was Cunningham’s perfect contribution to the subterfuge of the operation. Eisenhower had to assume that German U-boats had located the invasion fleets, and so, the Allied vessels and radio operators throughout the Mediterranean had leaked various messages that the invasion was in fact heading for Sicily. So far, the fleets had reported no major losses, the U-boats staying clear of the heavy screen of destroyer escorts that ringed them. Only one ship in the Mediterranean had taken a torpedo hit, disabling her, but no lives had been lost. Now, Cunningham was preparing for a ship to be sent toward Sicily as a decoy, a ship that would fill the air with frantic distress calls as the time for the landings drew close. The theory was that German bombers could be persuaded to take a look, might patrol the Sicilian coast with a heightened urgency, keeping them away from North Africa for precious hours.

GIBRALTAR—NOVEMBER 7, 1942

Despite anxious hours, and garbled radio messages, Giraud’s journey had been completed without major problems, beyond the Frenchman’s near drowning as he was hauled aboard the submarine.

Giraud was taller than Eisenhower had expected, wore rumpled clothes that showed the effects of the saltwater soaking. He carried himself erect, seemed unaware that his face was brushed with a thick shadow of unshaved beard, framing the sad droop of what seemed to have once been a proud handlebar mustache.

The secretive journey had been the latest chapter in what Eisenhower could only assume to be the man’s difficult and frightened existence. Giraud’s escape from a German prison camp had made him something of a legend in France, and a seriously wanted man to the Gestapo. Somehow, he had evaded capture, and from everything Murphy had said, Giraud held tightly to the notion that his time had come, that he was now willing to give everything to an Allied victory. Eisenhower was prepared to offer the man a great deal of authority over the French civil and military forces in North Africa, a friendly administrator in a land where friends might be at a premium. All he required of Giraud now was that he agree to endorse a broadcast, made prominently in his name, addressing the military commanders along the African coast who were about to be confronted by a major invasion force. If Giraud carried the influence and authority that both he and Murphy insisted he did, the landings might happily be uneventful.

Giraud stood alongside Jerauld Wright, the American navy man who had played the role of alleged captain of the
Seraph,
successfully convincing Giraud that an American was indeed in command. Wright made the introductions, and Eisenhower shook the fragile hand of the man who seemed an unlikely bearer of the power that could decide so much of the outcome of Operation Torch. Eisenhower motioned to the door, a silent command to Wright, who seemed to understand completely that his part of this strange mission was at an end.

Wright made a short bow toward Giraud, said, “I leave you now, General. May God go with us all.”

Wright left the small room, was replaced by Colonel Julius Holmes, who was there to serve as Eisenhower’s interpreter. Behind him, Clark closed the door, flicking a switch that illuminated a red bulb outside the office, its meaning clear:
No one enters
.

The men all sat and Giraud stared past Eisenhower, seemed already to be impatient with a meeting that had not yet begun. Eisenhower began to talk, emptied his mind of details, revealed the facts and timetable of Torch, of everything that was already in motion. Giraud did not react, sat motionless, allowed his eyes to drift to Eisenhower’s face. Eisenhower stopped, had used up everything he had expected to say, waited, and Giraud seemed to come alive.

The man straightened his back, sat upright, said, “Now, let’s get it clear as to my part. As I understand it, when I land in North Africa, I am to assume command of all Allied forces and become the supreme Allied commander in North Africa.”

Eisenhower felt his mouth opening, heard a short grunt from Clark. Giraud seemed satisfied, as though he had answered his own inquiry. Eisenhower had no words, stared at the Frenchman, who tilted his head slightly, waiting for confirmation. Eisenhower looked at Holmes, the interpreter obviously surprised, the man nodding nervously to Eisenhower, yes, the words were accurate. He looked again at Giraud, tried to think of a response, thought suddenly of Murphy. What kind of promises did you make, what did you tell this man? Is this how you got him to come here? Promise him the entire damned world, you amateur diplomat son of a bitch? He fought against the fury, held it hard inside him, tried to smile again, his fists clenched beneath the edge of the desk.

“There must be some misunderstanding.”

“I think not, General. It is perfectly clear to me. My duty is in North Africa, and Giraud will do his duty. As well, I should also take command of a force that will immediately invade southern France. Once the Nazis learn of our attack on North Africa, they will certainly respond by occupying the remaining French territory now held in control by the Vichy government. I fear if we do not act quickly, the Nazis will bring further destruction to my country. We shall prevent this.”

Eisenhower looked at Clark, who stared at the Frenchman with disbelief. After a long moment, Eisenhower said, “There
is
a misunderstanding.”

Giraud seemed to stiffen further, growing even taller in the chair. “I understand my role perfectly well, General. If there is any misunderstanding, it must be coming from you.”

T
he meeting dragged on for three tedious hours, Giraud maintaining perfect stubbornness. An invitation had come from Governor Mason-MacFarlane for Giraud to enjoy a dinner with his official British host. It was a marvelous opportunity for adjournment that Eisenhower leapt on, if for no other reason than to empty his office of this astoundingly disagreeable Frenchman.

B
oth men sat back in their chairs, stared at the wall for a long moment. Eisenhower looked at Clark, said, “Are you quite certain that General Mast understood you?”

“Absolutely. Ike, I didn’t promise Mast anything. I’m certain of that. It has to be Murphy.”

Eisenhower shook his head, worked himself up out of the chair, tried to ease the cramps out of his shoulders. “We can assume that. It’s possible, certainly. But I can’t believe that Murphy is that stupid. He knew he couldn’t make promises about command authority.”

Clark stayed in the chair, rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “You know how those people talk, the politics, all that diplomatic greasiness. Half the time I have no idea what they’re saying anyway. Jesus, Ike, Giraud refers to himself in the third person.” Clark paused. “So, what do we do now?”

Eisenhower moved to the open door, stared into the dull light of the corridor. “Mast did this. It has to be Mast. He insisted to you that he could bring Giraud to Africa, and if he hadn’t delivered, his honor would have been compromised. You know how those people are. Honor, all about honor. Never mind that their country is in Hitler’s back pocket, that their great damned hero Marshal Pétain is no more than Hitler’s shoeshine boy. This whole damned plan, Wayne, all of it, is designed toward one goal: kick Hitler’s ass. Eventually, that means we have to move into France, somehow, some way.
Liberate
them! And in the meantime, we have to ally ourselves with petty autocrats. No, not
ally. Depend
. We
need
them, for God’s sake.”

“They know that, Ike. That’s why Giraud thinks he can pull this stunt, that we have to give him command. He needs a lesson in muscle. Influence doesn’t come from an inflated sense of honor, it comes from guns.”

“Dammit, Wayne, we’re under the gun here. I’m not a politician and I need to act like one. I have to tread lightly with him.”

Clark sat back in the chair, looked up toward the ceiling. “Treading lightly won’t get us anywhere, Ike.”

Eisenhower thought a moment. “I should emphasize what we’re offering him. Civil and military control over French forces, over the local governments. That’s a big damned plum for a man who has spent a year afraid to show his face, wondering if the next knock on his door is a man with a machine gun.” Eisenhower paused, saw Clark looking at the paper on his desk, the letter that Giraud had to sign, the entire reason he was there in the first place.

“Dammit, Wayne, we
need
him.”

Clark held the paper up. “You know, if he doesn’t sign this…well, we can broadcast it anyway. Who’s to know?”

“That would be dangerous, Wayne. There could be hell to pay in Washington, it could put the president’s butt in a sling, could wreck any chance of an alliance with the French. It’s politics, Wayne. There are rules about things like that, and I’d have to take the consequences for it. Marshall wouldn’t approve of that, for certain. We’re not supposed to monkey around with all this political crap.”

“But we are. We’re right in the middle of it. France is, what? Three countries now? Loyalty to Vichy, loyalty to de Gaulle, loyalty to Giraud. Every popgun commander in North Africa controls his own little army, Ike. Okay, so we need him. But if he doesn’t go along with us, if he doesn’t take charge like we need him to, there’s gonna be hell to pay right here.”

Eisenhower put a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “We need to keep our tempers in check.”

“For how long, Ike? Our boys will start hitting their landings in less than eight hours.”

Eisenhower looked at his watch, knew Giraud had been gone nearly an hour. “The governor will get him back here pretty quick. We just have to do what we can to convince him to sign this order.”

G
iraud’s stubbornness had not mellowed with British hospitality. Eisenhower tried again, spoke for long minutes at a time, reason and logic, long lectures about political and military reality. As Holmes translated, Eisenhower was already moving ahead, impatient for Holmes to complete the words. As the time ticked past, Eisenhower felt himself losing control. The man’s stubbornness was absolute, Giraud simply repeating what he insisted to be his only condition for going along with the plan. Eisenhower was beginning to feel hatred for the Frenchman, recalling all the memories of the schoolboy aristocrats, the sons of rich fathers, parading their superiority. Now it wasn’t about money or the importance of a family’s name, it was just one man who refused to relax his grip on his own importance, who was pushing Eisenhower further into a despair that was heightened by the ticking clock, the movement of so many ships that carried the men whose lives might depend on this one annoying man agreeing to sign a piece of paper.

He was nearly hoarse, was close to simply killing this Frenchman, who had become nothing more than a tall strutting rooster. There was silence for a moment, and Eisenhower fought for the strength to look once more at Giraud, was surprised to see a flicker of weariness, the man’s age and his rough journey to Gibraltar showing itself in frayed edges around the man’s arrogant pronouncements. But little had changed, and Eisenhower knew his own fuse had been lit, was growing shorter.

He turned toward Clark, said, “General, please make an attempt here. I’ve run out of words.”

Clark sat up, seemed to energize, stared at Giraud, and said, “We would like the honorable general to know that the time of his usefulness to the Americans, and for the restoration of the glory that was once France, is
now
.”

Giraud seemed unaffected by Clark’s energy, shook his head. “But what would the French people think of me? What about Giraud? What about the family of Giraud?”

Clark said, “It shouldn’t make much difference whether
Giraud
is governor of North Africa, or general of all the armies. We have made all the preparations. We have completed the planning, and we are the ones who will liberate North Africa from the Nazis. We are fully prepared to give you command of all French troops in North Africa, once we have made successful landings. We simply cannot give you any higher military authority.”