often
ran agents as director for most of the operations out of the Switzerland OSS.
He was the oldest of the four, and the best dressed. In his mid forties, and
the only professional politico among the group at the table, his take on any
situation included an evaluation as to how it might help or hinder his postwar
career in the State Department. Nonetheless, he had a quick, analytical mind
that was very adept at planning operations, especially where much of the
scenario could not be known in advance and where contingencies had to be built
in to cover a myriad of unforeseen possibilities. Julian was patriotic. He
loved his country, believed in the freedom it offered and was eager to help in
advancing its cause. But he was also a cynic and whenever patriotism and his
own self-advancement clashed, he made no bones about his allegiance. It was,
first and foremost, to himself.
Kent Mallory sat next to Julian and was eleven years his
junior. He admired his abilities, the knowledge he had in so many disparate
areas, but mostly he envied the ease with which Julian navigated the confusing
military and political currents of the OSS. Before the war, Mallory had an
entry level job in the State Department and was considering making a career of
it, especially since his first posting was overseas, Berlin to be exact, and
the charm and excitement of being abroad were somewhat intoxicating to a young,
naïve man from East Rutherford, New Jersey. However, neither the charm nor the
excitement were sustainable to a man of his sensibilities in pre-war Nazi
Germany, and when the personnel from State were evacuated in the face of what
seemed an inevitable war, Kent resigned his position and, in a burst of
indignation and patriotism, enlisted in the Army, only to be transferred, after
several years of holding a desk job in procurement, to the OSS and sent abroad
again, in a position that to him seemed not unlike the one from which he had so
recently resigned. His life seemed to be in an eddy and he had yet to feel that
he was really taking part in the war effort. With the way things were going,
the war would soon be over and, by his way of thinking, Kent would neither have
advanced his career nor aided the war effort. Stateside, his wife had moved
back in with her parents in New York, but as her letters attested, she was not
happy with the situation and she constantly harangued him about their financial
situation and her inability to take care of herself in a manner that she
thought appropriate. As these thoughts revolved in Mallory's mind, Dulles once
again faced the group at the table.
"There are problems, however," he continued.
"General Schroeder, Heinrich Schroeder, that's the name of the officer
that contacted us, has been transferred to Northern Italy and because of the
success of our bombing in knocking out Hitler's infrastructure, he can't
contact his friends in Germany, and even if he could, it might be impossible
for them to get the plutonium out of Germany. He was going to have it shipped
by rail, but with him being in Italy, unable to commandeer the necessary
resources, and most of the rail lines out of commission or very risky, that is
no longer an option. However, Schroeder says there is another way."
Julian could tell by his eyes that this "other
way" would be dangerous and would entail a significant risk to one of
their agents — a loss of life or capture, which amounted to essentially
the same thing. He had seen Dulles look this way before, almost as if his eyes
turned inward, either hesitant to face those to whom he gave such news, or lost
in his own remorse and guilt about sending men to risk their lives while he
remained behind. The two men sitting to Julian's right fidgeted and he wondered
if they too sensed the turmoil that was building in Allan Dulles' conscience.
The agent sitting next to Julian was new to Bern, having
arrived only two weeks before from stateside, and he didn't know much about
him. He wore a suit and
ran agents as director for most of the operations out of the Switzerland OSS.
He was the oldest of the four, and the best dressed. In his mid forties, and
the only professional politico among the group at the table, his take on any
situation included an evaluation as to how it might help or hinder his postwar
career in the State Department. Nonetheless, he had a quick, analytical mind
that was very adept at planning operations, especially where much of the
scenario could not be known in advance and where contingencies had to be built
in to cover a myriad of unforeseen possibilities. Julian was patriotic. He
loved his country, believed in the freedom it offered and was eager to help in
advancing its cause. But he was also a cynic and whenever patriotism and his
own self-advancement clashed, he made no bones about his allegiance. It was,
first and foremost, to himself.
Kent Mallory sat next to Julian and was eleven years his
junior. He admired his abilities, the knowledge he had in so many disparate
areas, but mostly he envied the ease with which Julian navigated the confusing
military and political currents of the OSS. Before the war, Mallory had an
entry level job in the State Department and was considering making a career of
it, especially since his first posting was overseas, Berlin to be exact, and
the charm and excitement of being abroad were somewhat intoxicating to a young,
naïve man from East Rutherford, New Jersey. However, neither the charm nor the
excitement were sustainable to a man of his sensibilities in pre-war Nazi
Germany, and when the personnel from State were evacuated in the face of what
seemed an inevitable war, Kent resigned his position and, in a burst of
indignation and patriotism, enlisted in the Army, only to be transferred, after
several years of holding a desk job in procurement, to the OSS and sent abroad
again, in a position that to him seemed not unlike the one from which he had so
recently resigned. His life seemed to be in an eddy and he had yet to feel that
he was really taking part in the war effort. With the way things were going,
the war would soon be over and, by his way of thinking, Kent would neither have
advanced his career nor aided the war effort. Stateside, his wife had moved
back in with her parents in New York, but as her letters attested, she was not
happy with the situation and she constantly harangued him about their financial
situation and her inability to take care of herself in a manner that she
thought appropriate. As these thoughts revolved in Mallory's mind, Dulles once
again faced the group at the table.
"There are problems, however," he continued.
"General Schroeder, Heinrich Schroeder, that's the name of the officer
that contacted us, has been transferred to Northern Italy and because of the
success of our bombing in knocking out Hitler's infrastructure, he can't
contact his friends in Germany, and even if he could, it might be impossible
for them to get the plutonium out of Germany. He was going to have it shipped
by rail, but with him being in Italy, unable to commandeer the necessary
resources, and most of the rail lines out of commission or very risky, that is
no longer an option. However, Schroeder says there is another way."
Julian could tell by his eyes that this "other
way" would be dangerous and would entail a significant risk to one of
their agents — a loss of life or capture, which amounted to essentially
the same thing. He had seen Dulles look this way before, almost as if his eyes
turned inward, either hesitant to face those to whom he gave such news, or lost
in his own remorse and guilt about sending men to risk their lives while he
remained behind. The two men sitting to Julian's right fidgeted and he wondered
if they too sensed the turmoil that was building in Allan Dulles' conscience.
The agent sitting next to Julian was new to Bern, having
arrived only two weeks before from stateside, and he didn't know much about
him. He wore a suit and
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