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“Blessed are the Peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”
-Matthew 5: Verse 9
The Confederate Flag flew unfettered in the fading sunlight, floating in a tired victory at the top of the pole.
They almost always had, since the secession at least. His Virginia cotton fields sent a gentle breeze up his whitewashed porch, the pleasant sound of Laborers in the distance, earning their wages at the feet of King Cotton. He missed the gentle wilds of Tennessee, but he could hardly help the Confederate government from his home state.
Time had abolished slavery; everyone knew that it would in the end. In the modern age of 1947 no one could conceive of such things as Slave auctions or unpaid laborers. Even the confederacy had let the system go to seed, but the States had not seen fit to do anything else with the laborers it had freed, and so they remained, unchanged but for pittances bestowed upon them now by their masters, though the name master would only be taken by the most bold.
He took a long sip from his Iced Tea. It’s brown dusty flavor washing down his throat. The breeze tossed the fading sunlight across the fields. Life felt spread out before him, he felt possessed of a feeling of freedom, and it gave him great satisfaction to believe this. He was the lord of his domain, master of this small fiefdom.
Silently his wife tiptoed gingerly to his side, placing the paper upon his lap. She appreciated his love of current events, which was not uncommon in Secretaries of State, and a grin shadowed her face as she let the paper slip onto his trousers. A half expressed grin of his own making replied to it as he pulled the paper to his eyes, his hands fumbling at his newly acquired glasses with the other hand.
“Thank you Rose,” he almost whispered, though she heard and turned to smile back again.
“You’re welcome Judge.”
The use of his nickname cracked a grin across his wrinkled face. His wife finished her smile and trotted back inside. He finally pulled his glasses on, bringing his eyes to bear on the ink soaked pages.
The Kaiser had finally united the Austrians with their homeland; the striking headline caused little surprise to its reader. Kaiser Wilhelm the Third, with the help of Chancellor Hitler, had been cajoling the Austrians for months to finally unite Germany, As though the Reich wasn’t great enough as it stood. Bismarck’s child sat on the opposite side of the Atlantic, towering above the French Republic and the Tsar. His heart went out to the Austrians, in a way, they were much akin to the Confederacy; estranged from their motherland, and warped from the role that motherland would have them play.
The United States towered to the North of the Confederacy, a benign giant watching it’s smaller cousin to the South. The Yanks never took them seriously. When Zimmerman had sent notice to them during the Great war, a deal to invade the northerners in the event of war, the British had seen fit to tell the Americans, who laughed and shrugged it off, magnanimously offering the Southerners leniency for presuming to receive such a note. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway; the Americans had never gone to war. The Northerners had spent the past years wallowing in ease and pleasure, hatred and distaste seeped across the border with the immigrants who fled the South for the plentiful jobs of the north, especially as they fled the Dust Bowl, which had once consumed much of the Confederacy. The Union had almost invariably boomed. The Confederacy limped along, in a race it would never win.
The paper drooped to the floor as the workers marched cheerfully to their homes, once called slave’s quarters, on the plantation. But they were paid now, the guilt slowly dripped from his soul.
“Cordell?” a voice beckoned from inside, the southern drawl irresistible. Mr. Hull stood to his full stature and lumbered calmly indoors. Throwing his eyes behind him as the laborers marched, trudging into their homes.
-
“The Senate meets in a week, Mr. Hull. They will likely want to have some footing on this before they have to vote on anything.”
“Foreign affairs, sir, are rarely the business of the Senate.”
“No, pahhaps they are not, sir. But ah sweah to you that the building and maintenance of ahhmd forces is.”
Cordell could only grin determinedly when Strom threw such fits. Thurman would likely have his way in the end, he almost always did. That fact did not bar the Secretary of State from toying at the idea of changing his mind, impossible a crusade though it may be.
“I assure you, that things are not so grave yet.”
“When they go to war, and we fahnd ouhselves caught between them, I swear you shall rescind that.”
“When they do,” Cordell smiled once more at the futility of it all, “I will.”
-
Havana is a lovely town, to even the most critical eye. It was at this scenic location, at a hotel designed to be scenic, sitting over their astoundingly tropical drinks that the two men sat, laid back in a manner that would not suggest importance.
“Cordell, my friend. It is very good of the Confederacy to mediate this business, but we must ask why it’s any of the business of the Southern States.”
Cordell smiled benignly back, hoping to assume an air of calmness and nonchalance. “Edward, The Confederacy has interests in the region. We would like to see the Krauts kicked out of Haiti as well as you, but we are unprepared to die over it.”
If the Americans succeeded in appearing calm and laid back the recently arrived German failed miserably. Joachim von Ribbentrop was never known for his especially kind manner. He wore a German helmet, which he poised to remove at the table; the proud German flags on the car outside marked it as his own.
“Herr Ribbentrop!” Cordell stood, reaching a hand to shake the German’s. A salute responded and Cordell was left drawing his hand awkwardly back.
Edward Stettinius had learned from the southerner’s mistake and saluted the German, who returned the salute curtly, before sitting down at the seat, his back a brisk line with the chair.
“I have heard that there is to be negotiation here,” he had a strong accent, though it was apparent that he had mastered the language, Cordell suspected that he maintained the accent as a matter of pride, not lowering himself far from his own German tongue, “The Reich does not wish to negotiate much, we wish to govern Haiti.”
“That is in direct violation of Monroe doctrine, Herr Hitler knows that, as does the Kaiser. The United States refuses to allow a European power to bully them.”
“There are no bullies here, we take what we deserve, and you keep what you have.”
“There is a bully here, the Caribbean is not a European plaything.”
“No, an American plaything I presume?”
A sudden panic washed over Cordell, he wondered if he would be able to control the meeting at all. Just as suddenly coolness swept over him, of course he could keep control, he was Cordell Hull, a peacemaker if ever there was one.
“Gentlemen,” his clear, southern voice cut through the chaos, brought attention to him, “We are not here to fight the first battle of a war, we are here to avert that conflict.”
Ribbentrop glared up at him, “We are here to avert conflict,” It sounded as though he was testing the words in his mouth. Assessing them to be good he nodded sagely, “We are here to ensure that the Americans do not feel themselves worthy of the Fatherland’s armies attentions.”
He lifted his hand to Edward, who quickly cooled his quite apparent desire to speak up at the outrage that the German had just called.
It would be a long meeting.
-
“I am not a young man.”
“I know that Cordell, thank you for moderating these talks.”
“I want to retire soon.”
“Yes Cordell,” With youthful impudence, a feat for a man of Forty-Six, Edward Stettinius rolled his eyes at his counterpart, “For all your supposed sickness, you handle yourself quite well around the Germans.”
Cordell sighed, brushing his white hair to the side, “You think I dare appear weak before them? I would be terrified to, and I’m not the one threatening them with war.”
Stettinius bit his lip, and, slowly summoning a look of determination, replied.
“You think it’s not a just cause? Do you think the people of Haiti really want to follow the Kaiser?”
“Do you think they want to follow Roosevelt?”
A pause.
“No, I suppose not. But…”
“But you need Haiti, if you want to protect that Canal of yours.”
“Of ours, Cordell. We own it jointly with the Confederacy.”
Cordell snorted, “We never use it. Why should we?”
“So you’re saying that you want the Germans playing at Empires again? Don’t you remember Cuba?”
Cuba had seen a bloody revolution against Spain, the dissonance of the Revolution had kept the Confederate navy out of the Caribbean for months until they annexed the territory outright, with Union backing.
“All worked out here,” he stiffened while saying this.
“Yes, but wasn’t it a bother?”
Cordell sighed, “It was.” Memories of late night whispered Spanish floated to the top.
“Besides, you remember how you said you feared seeming weak? We’re stuck in the same situation on a national scale. What would the Kaiser or the Chancellor think if we let them barge in without a fight?”
“I’m retiring soon Edward, I want to be remembered as a peacekeeper.”
“You will always be remembered as a peacekeeper,” his exasperated tone was all he had left for sympathy.
“For what? Negotiating with Mexican bandits? Talking the Spanish out of a war over Cuba? I had nothing really to work with. If I had been granted the affairs of a superpower, like you, I could have been remembered. I doubt I will be remembered here.”
“The Confederacy is a plenty powerful nation.”
A wise grimace spread across his face as his down turned eyes pulled ever so slightly towards Edward. “Do they really believe that up north?”
Edward returned the smile with a shrug, “It was worth a shot.”
“No, it wasn’t. The South has virtually no power; we couldn’t beat the Mexicans if it came down to the line. We are overshadowed by the Union, whenever anyone thinks of America they think of you. The Confederacy is a great place to live, very noble and lovely. We have virtually no army. Our navy hasn’t been a consideration since the Great War. No, there is no power. Never remind a southerner of that if you value his friendship. We are proud of our independence, we are proud of our culture. We have nothing else to be proud of.”
“A lot like….”
“The Austrians,” Cordell cut him off.
“Do you really fear an anschluss in America?”
“I don’t know. I am a peacemaker, not a fool, I would not grant the possibility amnesty.”
“You shouldn’t have anything to fear.”
“I am not a fool, to take your word.”
-
“Deutschland uber alles,” A smile as he seated himself.
“Herr Ribbentrop, you do love your fatherland,” Cordell smiled, he likewise loved his nation, small and weak though it may be.
“Ja, I see these other nations, I speak their languages, I am the Chancellor’s strong right arm when it comes to other nations, but nothing in another nation compares to the glory of my fatherland.” The smile was wider than usual now.
“How do you like Cuba?”
“It is,” he looked around him, like a student hoping to cheat on a quiz by finding some hidden answer on the wall, “Nice. Yes, the Caribbean is a nice place to have holdings, is it not?”
“You could rally no dissent from my countrymen.” It was an open phrase, too open, he realized too late.
“Ahhhh… but could I rally support?”
Cordell almost bit his tongue for it’s devilish work.
“President Thurman didn’t send me here to pick sides.”
“No? I have heard, that President Thurman doesn’t quite like the meeting at all.”
It was true, Cordell had worked uncharacteristically single-mindedly for this meeting, seeing it as too precious an opportunity to let go. Thurman had likely requested that the states begin instituting drafts already.
“President Thurman approves of the meeting.”
A smile crossed the German’s face, “It says so on paper.”
Silence filled the room, Ribbentrop spoke again.
“But what do you feel? Who is righteous here?”
“Myself? Personally I am disappointed that the nations involved feel it must come to blows. If there were a war, I would resign in shame. If there was a war, I would not have to pick sides.”
“Germany can be a very generous ally.”
Cordell grinned as he spoke, “The Turks would not agree.”
Ribbentrop paused. The Turks had stood by Germany’s side as victors in the Great War; they had won nothing and lost their empire despite victory. Germany had been one of the first nations to seize the land, which they left.
“The Turks were weak. Germany rewards her strong allies.”
“Austria?”
A frustrated silence settled over the room. Cordell realized he had been too open, pushed too hard against Ribbentrop and insulted him.
“If war comes. You will not have to pick sides.” With this he stood and left Cordell, who knew himself old enough to know better than to utter the faux pas he had made, staring in his wake.
-
“You could make concessions.” Cordell suggested quietly, ashamed at his failure to negotiate a truce yet.
Edward looked at him oddly, “Are you being serious?”
“I,” Cordell sighed, “Have been a fool, I have made mistakes here. I wish to rectify this.” Cordell stared into the distance, confused, aimless.
Edward smiled at his perplexed counterpart, reaching out a hand to grasp his shoulder conciliatorily.
“If there is war. America will stand united.”
Cordell sighed, “Which is what I’m afraid of. Which is what my countrymen are afraid of.
“I don’t mean like that Hull, come on.”
“No, you don’t. Is that how Roosevelt would say it though?”
“Franklin is a kinder man than you give him credit for.”
“Yes, I am quite sure, and Lincoln was quite the futile hero you imagine him as well.”
“We don’t see eye to eye.”
“We never did, our nations never did. That is why there are two nations rather than one.”
“There is no need for your fears. If you must fear anyone, fear Ribbentrop and Wilhelm.”
“The Kaiser is an ocean away, Franklin is almost next door.”
“We aren’t here in Havana to discuss this,” Edward reminded him.
“No, and I don’t see why you can’t just let the Krauts have Haiti.”
“You said earlier that the Germans were an ocean away,” smoothly he smiled, “The Union would like them to stay that way.”
“Your way they won’t. Your way, they will assuredly come here.”
“Our way, they shall lose,” He shifted his seat, uncomfortable, “You underestimate the Union.”
Cordell sighed. He forgot the words looking into the distance.
“I have always wanted to make peace. Do you understand that? I do not care if I go down an unsung hero, I want to make peace rule. Do you understand how Ribbentrop feels? He would go to war over honor. You would go to war over land. I say neither. Peace is more important. Do you understand where I am coming from?
“Let me explain this. Haiti doesn’t matter. Not to Ribbentrop, not to Wilhelm, not even to the Chancellor, land and power crazed though he may be. What they are willing to fight over is that the Union said no to them. You denied them Haiti. The Germans are a proud breed, Edward, never underestimate their pride.”
“If they care so little about Haiti, then why so… bellicose?”
“Herr Ribbentrop would say, if they care so little about honor why them? Do you understand?”
“No,” Edward sighed, “I don’t understand it at all anymore. The business of America is business, not war. I wish, with all my heart, that I could leave, go back to Chicago, and start over. There are days when I love this job; this is not one of them. Today I feel like the first casualty of the looming war.”
Cordell smiled weakly, “The diplomats are the front line, in many ways.”
“You love this, don’t you? Even when you lose?” Edward looked accusingly at him.
“Perhaps….” Cordell looked off again, “Perhaps I do.”
-
“What exactly does Haiti have to offer your nation Ribbentrop?” Edward asked, his hair unkempt, fitting the ungodly hour the darkness of the room made apparent.
“Herr Stettinius,” a deep breath forewarned of a rambling explanation, which was memorized, not felt, “The German Fatherland needs colonies. The Economic value of such establishments has been proved and proved again-”
“The island which you wish to colonize, Haiti, you are aware that it has a history of revolution against European colonizers. For instance, a revolt by Touissant L'Overture ejected the French from the Western Hemisphere.”
Ribbentrop frowned at the prospect; “There will be no slaves in German Haiti.”
“I am assured,” the look in Edward’s eyes made it clear he wasn’t, as did his tone. Cordell wondered if the German would pick up on the subtleties.
Ribbentrop proved his cunning, “Mr. Stettinius, regardless of whether there are or are not plans to enslave the population of the island, what concern of the United States is it. You have proved that you are incapable of stopping slavery. If your issues are with slavery, then you would best resolve your conflict with our esteemed moderator.”
Cordell shot up with a speed painful to such an old man, “Good God man, what accusations do you make? There are no slaves in the Confederacy.”
“I for one,” the German spoke with a sneer, “Have been to the Confederacy Mr. Hull. You may blind your neighbors with your imagined egalitarianism, but I have seen the people of the South, not the rulers, Cordell, the people. The laborers of the field, not those who watch with tea in one hand and a whip in the other.”
“Herr!” Cordell shouted, scandalized.
“Es ist die Wahrheit,” He turned his head from the Americans, leaving them to squabble as he had prepared.
Edward looked with a haughty sneer at Cordell, but turned to Ribbentrop, “I concede that there are no angels in this room, but I ask you this. To choose now, will there be war between our nations, or will the Kaiser stop the ships on their way to Haiti.”
Glaring back at the Americans Joachim spat, “Let there be war.”
“May the better angels of your nature force a reconsideration,” Cordell wished.
“It is not likely. Deutschland Uber Alles.” Ribbentrop turned on his heel and left the room.
“God Save America.” Edward almost collapsed at his chair.
-
-Matthew 5: Verse 9
The Confederate Flag flew unfettered in the fading sunlight, floating in a tired victory at the top of the pole.
They almost always had, since the secession at least. His Virginia cotton fields sent a gentle breeze up his whitewashed porch, the pleasant sound of Laborers in the distance, earning their wages at the feet of King Cotton. He missed the gentle wilds of Tennessee, but he could hardly help the Confederate government from his home state.
Time had abolished slavery; everyone knew that it would in the end. In the modern age of 1947 no one could conceive of such things as Slave auctions or unpaid laborers. Even the confederacy had let the system go to seed, but the States had not seen fit to do anything else with the laborers it had freed, and so they remained, unchanged but for pittances bestowed upon them now by their masters, though the name master would only be taken by the most bold.
He took a long sip from his Iced Tea. It’s brown dusty flavor washing down his throat. The breeze tossed the fading sunlight across the fields. Life felt spread out before him, he felt possessed of a feeling of freedom, and it gave him great satisfaction to believe this. He was the lord of his domain, master of this small fiefdom.
Silently his wife tiptoed gingerly to his side, placing the paper upon his lap. She appreciated his love of current events, which was not uncommon in Secretaries of State, and a grin shadowed her face as she let the paper slip onto his trousers. A half expressed grin of his own making replied to it as he pulled the paper to his eyes, his hands fumbling at his newly acquired glasses with the other hand.
“Thank you Rose,” he almost whispered, though she heard and turned to smile back again.
“You’re welcome Judge.”
The use of his nickname cracked a grin across his wrinkled face. His wife finished her smile and trotted back inside. He finally pulled his glasses on, bringing his eyes to bear on the ink soaked pages.
The Kaiser had finally united the Austrians with their homeland; the striking headline caused little surprise to its reader. Kaiser Wilhelm the Third, with the help of Chancellor Hitler, had been cajoling the Austrians for months to finally unite Germany, As though the Reich wasn’t great enough as it stood. Bismarck’s child sat on the opposite side of the Atlantic, towering above the French Republic and the Tsar. His heart went out to the Austrians, in a way, they were much akin to the Confederacy; estranged from their motherland, and warped from the role that motherland would have them play.
The United States towered to the North of the Confederacy, a benign giant watching it’s smaller cousin to the South. The Yanks never took them seriously. When Zimmerman had sent notice to them during the Great war, a deal to invade the northerners in the event of war, the British had seen fit to tell the Americans, who laughed and shrugged it off, magnanimously offering the Southerners leniency for presuming to receive such a note. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway; the Americans had never gone to war. The Northerners had spent the past years wallowing in ease and pleasure, hatred and distaste seeped across the border with the immigrants who fled the South for the plentiful jobs of the north, especially as they fled the Dust Bowl, which had once consumed much of the Confederacy. The Union had almost invariably boomed. The Confederacy limped along, in a race it would never win.
The paper drooped to the floor as the workers marched cheerfully to their homes, once called slave’s quarters, on the plantation. But they were paid now, the guilt slowly dripped from his soul.
“Cordell?” a voice beckoned from inside, the southern drawl irresistible. Mr. Hull stood to his full stature and lumbered calmly indoors. Throwing his eyes behind him as the laborers marched, trudging into their homes.
-
“The Senate meets in a week, Mr. Hull. They will likely want to have some footing on this before they have to vote on anything.”
“Foreign affairs, sir, are rarely the business of the Senate.”
“No, pahhaps they are not, sir. But ah sweah to you that the building and maintenance of ahhmd forces is.”
Cordell could only grin determinedly when Strom threw such fits. Thurman would likely have his way in the end, he almost always did. That fact did not bar the Secretary of State from toying at the idea of changing his mind, impossible a crusade though it may be.
“I assure you, that things are not so grave yet.”
“When they go to war, and we fahnd ouhselves caught between them, I swear you shall rescind that.”
“When they do,” Cordell smiled once more at the futility of it all, “I will.”
-
Havana is a lovely town, to even the most critical eye. It was at this scenic location, at a hotel designed to be scenic, sitting over their astoundingly tropical drinks that the two men sat, laid back in a manner that would not suggest importance.
“Cordell, my friend. It is very good of the Confederacy to mediate this business, but we must ask why it’s any of the business of the Southern States.”
Cordell smiled benignly back, hoping to assume an air of calmness and nonchalance. “Edward, The Confederacy has interests in the region. We would like to see the Krauts kicked out of Haiti as well as you, but we are unprepared to die over it.”
If the Americans succeeded in appearing calm and laid back the recently arrived German failed miserably. Joachim von Ribbentrop was never known for his especially kind manner. He wore a German helmet, which he poised to remove at the table; the proud German flags on the car outside marked it as his own.
“Herr Ribbentrop!” Cordell stood, reaching a hand to shake the German’s. A salute responded and Cordell was left drawing his hand awkwardly back.
Edward Stettinius had learned from the southerner’s mistake and saluted the German, who returned the salute curtly, before sitting down at the seat, his back a brisk line with the chair.
“I have heard that there is to be negotiation here,” he had a strong accent, though it was apparent that he had mastered the language, Cordell suspected that he maintained the accent as a matter of pride, not lowering himself far from his own German tongue, “The Reich does not wish to negotiate much, we wish to govern Haiti.”
“That is in direct violation of Monroe doctrine, Herr Hitler knows that, as does the Kaiser. The United States refuses to allow a European power to bully them.”
“There are no bullies here, we take what we deserve, and you keep what you have.”
“There is a bully here, the Caribbean is not a European plaything.”
“No, an American plaything I presume?”
A sudden panic washed over Cordell, he wondered if he would be able to control the meeting at all. Just as suddenly coolness swept over him, of course he could keep control, he was Cordell Hull, a peacemaker if ever there was one.
“Gentlemen,” his clear, southern voice cut through the chaos, brought attention to him, “We are not here to fight the first battle of a war, we are here to avert that conflict.”
Ribbentrop glared up at him, “We are here to avert conflict,” It sounded as though he was testing the words in his mouth. Assessing them to be good he nodded sagely, “We are here to ensure that the Americans do not feel themselves worthy of the Fatherland’s armies attentions.”
He lifted his hand to Edward, who quickly cooled his quite apparent desire to speak up at the outrage that the German had just called.
It would be a long meeting.
-
“I am not a young man.”
“I know that Cordell, thank you for moderating these talks.”
“I want to retire soon.”
“Yes Cordell,” With youthful impudence, a feat for a man of Forty-Six, Edward Stettinius rolled his eyes at his counterpart, “For all your supposed sickness, you handle yourself quite well around the Germans.”
Cordell sighed, brushing his white hair to the side, “You think I dare appear weak before them? I would be terrified to, and I’m not the one threatening them with war.”
Stettinius bit his lip, and, slowly summoning a look of determination, replied.
“You think it’s not a just cause? Do you think the people of Haiti really want to follow the Kaiser?”
“Do you think they want to follow Roosevelt?”
A pause.
“No, I suppose not. But…”
“But you need Haiti, if you want to protect that Canal of yours.”
“Of ours, Cordell. We own it jointly with the Confederacy.”
Cordell snorted, “We never use it. Why should we?”
“So you’re saying that you want the Germans playing at Empires again? Don’t you remember Cuba?”
Cuba had seen a bloody revolution against Spain, the dissonance of the Revolution had kept the Confederate navy out of the Caribbean for months until they annexed the territory outright, with Union backing.
“All worked out here,” he stiffened while saying this.
“Yes, but wasn’t it a bother?”
Cordell sighed, “It was.” Memories of late night whispered Spanish floated to the top.
“Besides, you remember how you said you feared seeming weak? We’re stuck in the same situation on a national scale. What would the Kaiser or the Chancellor think if we let them barge in without a fight?”
“I’m retiring soon Edward, I want to be remembered as a peacekeeper.”
“You will always be remembered as a peacekeeper,” his exasperated tone was all he had left for sympathy.
“For what? Negotiating with Mexican bandits? Talking the Spanish out of a war over Cuba? I had nothing really to work with. If I had been granted the affairs of a superpower, like you, I could have been remembered. I doubt I will be remembered here.”
“The Confederacy is a plenty powerful nation.”
A wise grimace spread across his face as his down turned eyes pulled ever so slightly towards Edward. “Do they really believe that up north?”
Edward returned the smile with a shrug, “It was worth a shot.”
“No, it wasn’t. The South has virtually no power; we couldn’t beat the Mexicans if it came down to the line. We are overshadowed by the Union, whenever anyone thinks of America they think of you. The Confederacy is a great place to live, very noble and lovely. We have virtually no army. Our navy hasn’t been a consideration since the Great War. No, there is no power. Never remind a southerner of that if you value his friendship. We are proud of our independence, we are proud of our culture. We have nothing else to be proud of.”
“A lot like….”
“The Austrians,” Cordell cut him off.
“Do you really fear an anschluss in America?”
“I don’t know. I am a peacemaker, not a fool, I would not grant the possibility amnesty.”
“You shouldn’t have anything to fear.”
“I am not a fool, to take your word.”
-
“Deutschland uber alles,” A smile as he seated himself.
“Herr Ribbentrop, you do love your fatherland,” Cordell smiled, he likewise loved his nation, small and weak though it may be.
“Ja, I see these other nations, I speak their languages, I am the Chancellor’s strong right arm when it comes to other nations, but nothing in another nation compares to the glory of my fatherland.” The smile was wider than usual now.
“How do you like Cuba?”
“It is,” he looked around him, like a student hoping to cheat on a quiz by finding some hidden answer on the wall, “Nice. Yes, the Caribbean is a nice place to have holdings, is it not?”
“You could rally no dissent from my countrymen.” It was an open phrase, too open, he realized too late.
“Ahhhh… but could I rally support?”
Cordell almost bit his tongue for it’s devilish work.
“President Thurman didn’t send me here to pick sides.”
“No? I have heard, that President Thurman doesn’t quite like the meeting at all.”
It was true, Cordell had worked uncharacteristically single-mindedly for this meeting, seeing it as too precious an opportunity to let go. Thurman had likely requested that the states begin instituting drafts already.
“President Thurman approves of the meeting.”
A smile crossed the German’s face, “It says so on paper.”
Silence filled the room, Ribbentrop spoke again.
“But what do you feel? Who is righteous here?”
“Myself? Personally I am disappointed that the nations involved feel it must come to blows. If there were a war, I would resign in shame. If there was a war, I would not have to pick sides.”
“Germany can be a very generous ally.”
Cordell grinned as he spoke, “The Turks would not agree.”
Ribbentrop paused. The Turks had stood by Germany’s side as victors in the Great War; they had won nothing and lost their empire despite victory. Germany had been one of the first nations to seize the land, which they left.
“The Turks were weak. Germany rewards her strong allies.”
“Austria?”
A frustrated silence settled over the room. Cordell realized he had been too open, pushed too hard against Ribbentrop and insulted him.
“If war comes. You will not have to pick sides.” With this he stood and left Cordell, who knew himself old enough to know better than to utter the faux pas he had made, staring in his wake.
-
“You could make concessions.” Cordell suggested quietly, ashamed at his failure to negotiate a truce yet.
Edward looked at him oddly, “Are you being serious?”
“I,” Cordell sighed, “Have been a fool, I have made mistakes here. I wish to rectify this.” Cordell stared into the distance, confused, aimless.
Edward smiled at his perplexed counterpart, reaching out a hand to grasp his shoulder conciliatorily.
“If there is war. America will stand united.”
Cordell sighed, “Which is what I’m afraid of. Which is what my countrymen are afraid of.
“I don’t mean like that Hull, come on.”
“No, you don’t. Is that how Roosevelt would say it though?”
“Franklin is a kinder man than you give him credit for.”
“Yes, I am quite sure, and Lincoln was quite the futile hero you imagine him as well.”
“We don’t see eye to eye.”
“We never did, our nations never did. That is why there are two nations rather than one.”
“There is no need for your fears. If you must fear anyone, fear Ribbentrop and Wilhelm.”
“The Kaiser is an ocean away, Franklin is almost next door.”
“We aren’t here in Havana to discuss this,” Edward reminded him.
“No, and I don’t see why you can’t just let the Krauts have Haiti.”
“You said earlier that the Germans were an ocean away,” smoothly he smiled, “The Union would like them to stay that way.”
“Your way they won’t. Your way, they will assuredly come here.”
“Our way, they shall lose,” He shifted his seat, uncomfortable, “You underestimate the Union.”
Cordell sighed. He forgot the words looking into the distance.
“I have always wanted to make peace. Do you understand that? I do not care if I go down an unsung hero, I want to make peace rule. Do you understand how Ribbentrop feels? He would go to war over honor. You would go to war over land. I say neither. Peace is more important. Do you understand where I am coming from?
“Let me explain this. Haiti doesn’t matter. Not to Ribbentrop, not to Wilhelm, not even to the Chancellor, land and power crazed though he may be. What they are willing to fight over is that the Union said no to them. You denied them Haiti. The Germans are a proud breed, Edward, never underestimate their pride.”
“If they care so little about Haiti, then why so… bellicose?”
“Herr Ribbentrop would say, if they care so little about honor why them? Do you understand?”
“No,” Edward sighed, “I don’t understand it at all anymore. The business of America is business, not war. I wish, with all my heart, that I could leave, go back to Chicago, and start over. There are days when I love this job; this is not one of them. Today I feel like the first casualty of the looming war.”
Cordell smiled weakly, “The diplomats are the front line, in many ways.”
“You love this, don’t you? Even when you lose?” Edward looked accusingly at him.
“Perhaps….” Cordell looked off again, “Perhaps I do.”
-
“What exactly does Haiti have to offer your nation Ribbentrop?” Edward asked, his hair unkempt, fitting the ungodly hour the darkness of the room made apparent.
“Herr Stettinius,” a deep breath forewarned of a rambling explanation, which was memorized, not felt, “The German Fatherland needs colonies. The Economic value of such establishments has been proved and proved again-”
“The island which you wish to colonize, Haiti, you are aware that it has a history of revolution against European colonizers. For instance, a revolt by Touissant L'Overture ejected the French from the Western Hemisphere.”
Ribbentrop frowned at the prospect; “There will be no slaves in German Haiti.”
“I am assured,” the look in Edward’s eyes made it clear he wasn’t, as did his tone. Cordell wondered if the German would pick up on the subtleties.
Ribbentrop proved his cunning, “Mr. Stettinius, regardless of whether there are or are not plans to enslave the population of the island, what concern of the United States is it. You have proved that you are incapable of stopping slavery. If your issues are with slavery, then you would best resolve your conflict with our esteemed moderator.”
Cordell shot up with a speed painful to such an old man, “Good God man, what accusations do you make? There are no slaves in the Confederacy.”
“I for one,” the German spoke with a sneer, “Have been to the Confederacy Mr. Hull. You may blind your neighbors with your imagined egalitarianism, but I have seen the people of the South, not the rulers, Cordell, the people. The laborers of the field, not those who watch with tea in one hand and a whip in the other.”
“Herr!” Cordell shouted, scandalized.
“Es ist die Wahrheit,” He turned his head from the Americans, leaving them to squabble as he had prepared.
Edward looked with a haughty sneer at Cordell, but turned to Ribbentrop, “I concede that there are no angels in this room, but I ask you this. To choose now, will there be war between our nations, or will the Kaiser stop the ships on their way to Haiti.”
Glaring back at the Americans Joachim spat, “Let there be war.”
“May the better angels of your nature force a reconsideration,” Cordell wished.
“It is not likely. Deutschland Uber Alles.” Ribbentrop turned on his heel and left the room.
“God Save America.” Edward almost collapsed at his chair.
-
more power to your elbow SKILORD.
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