Chapter Zero. Preliminaries

[Ten years ago this month, my friend T. and I embarked on an amazing journey of intellectual curiosity. I made him a solemn promise I would write it up one day. So this is part of it, in case you're interested.  Mostly it is from memory, augmented with some recent fact checking. I promise to try to make it as accurate as possible, to what we figured out. I'll endeavor to correct anything that conflicts with the known historical record, as well, and add to it as I can.---M]

April 12, 1945

Vienna. Evening. Inside the old city, within sight of the palace where, one hundred and thirty years before, the delegates to the great Congress danced the evening away, while deciding the fate of the post-Napoleonic world, now a small group of soldiers of the Reich make a furious stand and against the soliders of the 3rd Ukrainian Front, which has poured into the city, having infiltrated the suburbs nine days before. By nightfall, the Soviets will have taken the last bridge on the Danube, and forced the last defenders out of the docklands. The Soviet Army will pour into the Danube chasing into the Alpine foothills for a last stand.

Out in the Pacific, where it is already the early morning of the 13th, on the island of Okinawa, the 22nd Marine Regiment is blasting out the Japanese defenders on the north end of the island. They are within sight of the tip. By mid day they will burn out the last defenders and complete the conquest of the island.

Inside a sunny room in Georgia, an man sitting in a chair rehearses a speak in his head. Everywhere around the globe the Axis powers are in retreat. The forces of the United Nations are on the verge of forging a great peace for the coming ages. From this peace, will have the opportunity to build world in which freedom and peace are the birthright of all peoples.

Across the room, a woman is painting his portrait. In the corner of the room, a large burly man in a suit stands silent and watching. As the woman paints at the easel she hears the old man mumble "I have a great pain in my head," and he slumps over.

Later the old man is a bed, in a room, surrounded by a doctor, a nurse, and the man in the suit. Another man is in the room, with grey hair and a suit.  The doctor looks at him. The man turns to the burly man in the suit and says, "Call the Vice President..."

In Washington, D.C., in an office building there are footsteps running down a hall.

Meanwhile, ten miles away in Moscow, inside a large office in the U.S. Embassy, the telephone rings.

A man sitting in a large leather looking out the window into the night time sky picks up the phone.

A voice mumbles on the phone.

"I see," says the man in the chair.

He turns and looks out the window in the Russian night.

In Washington, D.C., the footsteps of the runner reach a door. Truman is with his assistant.

"Mr. Truman, this is for you."

He reads it and looks up and his assistant with a grave face and nods.

As Truman is being sworn in as president, the man in the U.S. embassy is still looking out into the night. He nears the words of the old man in the house in Georgia.

From this peace, will have the opportunity to build world in which freedom and peace are the birthright of all peoples. 

A knock at the door. A messenger with a telegram. Mr. Ambassador. This just came in.

"Put it over there. Tell Mr. Kennan I would like to see him."

He hears the voice again:

The Allied powers which have won this great victory as the United Nations, now can go forward as the United Nations of peace. The leaders and representatives of the victorious nations must gather with the leaders of all nations who are willing to join the cause of freedom in creating this new order.

The man looking out the window is smiling.