Chapter 25

April 4, 1945

Wednesday

Lawson Army Airfield, Fort Benning, Georgia:

Major Elliot Mason looked at his watch again. Still no Edmondson.

"Major," said Captain Collins, "it's getting late. If we're going today, we need to take off soon."

"I know, I know," Mason said worriedly. He'd been waiting over four hours now, and the flight crew was getting antsy. More than that, there was the possibility of bad weather over the North Atlantic, which might force them to stay in Maine overnight or, if they were lucky to make it that far, Greenland.

A lieutenant walked over and handed Collins a piece of paper.

"Well, that tears it, Major. If we don't leave in half an hour, we're stuck here at least until tomorrow. Bad weather."

"Damn!" Mason murmured. "You're sure?"

A thin smile. "Yes, sir, I am."

"Sorry. All right; I guess we're stuck with it if he doesn't show up in a few minutes. Thanks, Collins."

"Sir." Collins got back inside the plane and began his checklist. Just in case they did take off.

It was close, but General Edmondson's car pulled up with a screech next to the plane. Mason had the door open before the driver even hit the brakes.

"Sir, we've got to leave now!" Mason said as the propellers on the C-47 began whipping the air.

Edmondson nodded and grabbed his briefcase. He nodded toward his bag.

Mason retrieved it and the two men hastily boarded the plane. As the plane began taxiing away, the car left the field.

"Get strapped in, gentlemen," the waiting sergeant said with a smile.

Mason made a face as he did; he always hated these flights. An inward smile. His choice, he knew. He loved his job and wouldn't give it up for the world. But there were moments, like this, when he wished his boss was a little less adventurous.

After half an hour, the pilot came over. "Welcome aboard, gentlemen."

Edmondson opened his eyes. "Thank you. Anticipating any delays in getting to London?"

"Depends on the weather, sir. They're expecting a front to move in, but it should be after we clear the area. We making four refueling stops: D.C., Presque Isle in Maine, Greenland — picking up a couple of passengers there — and lastly Reykjavik, Iceland. Then nonstop to London. Hopefully, it'll be clear all the way. Still a good 23 hours or so to England. Enjoy your flight, gentlemen."

Edmondson closed his eyes after the pilot returned to the cockpit. "Something tells me that captain is planning to work for one of the airlines after the war."

Mason made a face.

"Tell me, Elliot," Edmondson said in a jovial voice. "Have you decided what you're going to do after the war?"

The question brought Mason up. "I'm . . . I guess I haven't thought about it." A sharp look at his boss. "Are you planning on getting rid of me, sir?"

"No. But they may get rid of me!"

"They wouldn't . . . they couldn't!"

"No? It's a good bet that Marshall will be retiring after the war ends. And Ike will most likely take his place. Ike is not going to be very happy with me after today, Elliot. I might be out the door."

"You got it!" Mason crowed.

An eye opened. "Of course, I got it!" he grinned. "Though I admit it took a while. FDR did not want to do it. He made that very clear, despite the fact that I had Marshall's and Donovan's backing. Part of me thinks he was against it just to spite Donovan, regardless of the rightness of my arguments."

"Does he still think Stalin isn't a threat?"

Edmondson mulled it over. "No. I think he's finally figured it out." A snort. "I like the man most of the time. I think he's done a hell of a lot of good. And if it weren't for him, England would probably have gone down the tubes along with France. But sometimes, if he gets something into his head, like many powerful men, it takes a whole lot of persuasion to change their minds."

"But you did convince him."

A smile. "It's more I outplayed him. I had a card up my sleeve he didn't expect."

Mason grinned. "Your ace of spades."

In the Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia, a familiar voice said, "General, I like you, and I trust you. And your arguments are persuasive. Just not enough. We, you can take care of the problem yourself. Once the war is over."

"Once it's over, we lose control, Mr. President. And quite possibly a very valuable asset," Edmondson said.

"There are other ways, General, to deal with it. Not this way. So, no, I'm sorry."

"Yes, sir." Then, "Mr. President, there is one more argument in my favor."

President Franklin Delano Roosevelt looked at General Marshall. "I thought we covered everything."

"No, sir. General Marshall does not know what it is, sir. I was hoping not to use it, but I guess I have no choice." Edmondson leaned over the President's desk and wrote something on a blank sheet of paper. He handed it to the President.

FDR glanced at him and then read the note. And reread it before passing it to his Chief of Staff. Marshall took it; a brow lifted in surprise.

FDR swiveled his wheelchair around and picked up the list he had meant to finalize. He took his pen and added to it. "I assume your people have all the paperwork done."

"Yes, sir," Edmondson said.

FDR swiveled back to shake hands with the two generals. And he flashed his trademark grin. "Well played, General Edmondson. Well played!" Another grin. "Good day, gentlemen. Enjoy your flight back to D.C."

Marshall slipped the note into an inside pocket. The two generals saluted their Commander-in-Chief and walked out of the office.

"What do you think of him, Teddy?" Marshall asked quietly as they walked to the car.

"I think I agree with Lucius Clay(1). Do you know Vice President Truman?"

"I've met him, liked him and respect him. Know him? Given what might be ahead of him . . . Frankly, the President doesn't know him, has barely seen him since the inauguration!"

"Maybe you should get to know him better, sir," Edmondson said.

Marshall nodded and then smiled. "By the way, I agree with the President. Well played, Teddy."

Edmondson laughed. "Thank you, General Marshall. I have a plane to catch, sir."

Marshall nodded as Edmondson got into a waiting car. "And good luck with General Eisenhower. I think you will need it."

Edmondson met his eyes. "I know."

"I won't protect you, General Edmondson. Neither of you. General Eisenhower has full authority in Europe; I won't interfere."

"I know. Will you tell him?"

"No, I'll leave that up to you. It will take a couple of days for it to be approved by the Senate; I'll let you know when it's official. Have a safe trip back, General Edmondson."

"Thank you, sir." Edmondson saluted his commanding officer, and the car pulled away from the curb.

Edmondson settled back against the padded VIP seat. "Not the ace, Elliot. I had a Queen. The Queen of Hearts. She's the one who gave me my Royal Flush. Now, don't bother me, son. I've had a long day."

"Yes, sir," Mason said as Edmondson's eyes closed. And he smiled and settled back for the long flight to England.

Endnotes

1) Gen. Lucius Clay: "We've been talking to a dead man." Thomas Fleming: The New Dealers' War, F.D.R. and the War within World War II.

Thus ends Scene One of Act Five. Act Five continues in Theater of War: Act Five, Scene Two.

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