Fall of Giants

President Wilson came out of the bedroom putting on his rimless glasses, looking vulnerable in pajamas and a dressing gown. He was tall, though not as tall as Gus. At fifty-seven he had dark gray hair. He thought he was ugly, and he was not far wrong. He had a beak of a nose and sticking-out ears, but the thrust of his big chin gave his face a determined look that accurately reflected the strength of character that Gus respected. When he spoke, he showed bad teeth.

“Good morning, Gus,” he said amiably. “What’s the excitement?”

“They didn’t tell me.”

“Well, you’d better listen in on the extension next door.”

Gus hurried into the next room and picked up the phone.

He heard Bryan’s sonorous tones. “The Ypiranga is due to dock at ten this morning.”

Gus felt a thrill of apprehension. Surely the Mexican president would cave in now? Otherwise there would be bloodshed.

Bryan read a cable from the American consul in Veracruz. “‘Steamer Ypiranga, owned by Hamburg-Amerika line, will arrive tomorrow from Germany with two hundred machine guns and fifteen million cartridges; will go to pier four and start discharging at ten thirty.’”

“Do you realize what this means, Mr. Bryan?” said Wilson, and Gus thought his voice sounded querulous. “Daniels, are you there, Daniels? What do you think?”

Daniels replied: “The munitions should not be permitted to reach Huerta.” Gus was surprised at this tough line from the peace-loving navy secretary. “I can wire Admiral Fletcher to prevent it and take the customs house.”

There was a long pause. Gus was gripping the phone so hard that his hand hurt. At last the president spoke. “Daniels, send this order to Admiral Fletcher: Take Veracruz at once.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” said the navy secretary.

And America was at war.

{III}

Gus did not go to bed that night or the following day.

Shortly after eight thirty, Secretary Daniels brought the news that an American warship had blocked the path of the Ypiranga. The German ship, an unarmed freighter, switched its engines to reverse and left the scene. American marines would go ashore at Veracruz later that morning, Daniels said.

Gus was dismayed by the rapidly developing crisis but thrilled to be at the heart of things.

Woodrow Wilson did not shrink from war. His favorite play was Shakespeare’s Henry V, and he liked to quote the line “If it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.”

News came in by wireless and cable, and it was Gus’s job to take the messages in to the president. At midday the marines took control of the Veracruz customs house.

Shortly afterward, he was told that there was someone to see him-a Mrs. Wigmore.

Gus frowned worriedly. This was indiscreet. Something must be wrong.

He hurried to the lobby. Caroline looked distraught. Although she wore a neat tweed coat and a plain hat, her hair was untidy and her eyes red with crying. Gus was shocked and distressed to see her in this state. “My darling!” he said in a low voice. “What on earth has happened?”

“This is the end,” she said. “I can never see you again. I’m so sorry.” She began to cry.

Gus wanted to hug her, but he could not do so there. He had no office of his own. He looked around. The guard at the door was staring at them. There was nowhere they could be private. It was maddening. “Come outside,” he said, taking her arm. “We’ll walk.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll be all right. Stay here.”

“What has upset you?”

She would not meet his eye, and looked at the floor. “I must be faithful to my husband. I have obligations.”

“Let me be your husband.”

She raised her face, and her yearning look broke his heart. “Oh, how I wish I could.”

“But you can!”

“I have a husband already.”

“He is not faithful to you-why should you be to him?”

She ignored that. “He’s accepted a chair at Berkeley. We’re moving to California.”

“Don’t go.”

“I’ve made up my mind.”

“Obviously,” Gus said flatly. He felt as if he had been knocked down. His chest hurt and he found it hard to breathe. “California,” he said. “Hell.”

She saw his acceptance of the inevitable, and she began to recover her composure. “This is our last meeting,” she said.

“No!”

“Please listen to me. There’s something I want to tell you, and this is my only chance.”

“All right.”

“A month ago I was ready to kill myself. Don’t look at me like that, it’s true. I thought I was so worthless that no one would care if I died. Then you appeared on my doorstep. You were so affectionate, so courteous, so thoughtful, that you made me think it was worth staying alive. You cherished me.” The tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she kept on. “And you were so happy when I kissed you. If I could give someone that much joy, I couldn’t be completely useless, I realized; and that thought kept me going. You saved my life, Gus. May God bless you.”

He almost felt angry. “What does that leave me with?”

“Memories,” she said. “I hope you will treasure them as I will treasure mine.”

She turned away. Gus followed her to the door, but she did not look back. She went out, and he let her go.