The Dark Year

By Edward Norton

The United States was suddenly plunged in the worldwide conflict known as the Second World War by an attack on the naval base at Hawaii. The nation and a majority of its citizens had preferred to stay out of the wars in Europe and Asia. After Dec. 7, 1941 the nation had no choice.The new year 1942 opened darkly--as Axis forces were on the march across the globe and American forces were either in retreat or trying desperately to organize for battle. Amid all the Allied worries was one whether other nations in the Americas would join the Axis, which if they did in Central and South America would isolate the U.S. and Canada, as well as provide bases for Nazi and Axis sea and land forces. At the same time, an “ally”-- Soviet Russia -- the USSR, was battling Nazi forces, it was spying on its principal ally, the U.S. with the assistance of some Americans who became traitors because of their faith in world communism. The year 1942 was perilous, a very dark year.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Norton
• Release date: Jun 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311469861

Edward Norton

Edward C. Norton, author of more than 10 novels, was an award-winning reporter/editor in New Jersey and New York. He was named a Nieman Fellow at Harvard University.Norton left daily journalism to write about public affairs and business issues for Mobil Corporation in op-ed ads in Time, The New York Times and Reader’s Digest. He retired as communications manager from Hoechst Celanese Corporation.As a free lance, Norton has had articles published in various magazines, including New York. and the first daily internet newspaper on Cape Cod. His novel, Station Breaks , was published by Dell [1986] and The House: 1916, [1999] was also published by RavensYard. His novels have been published under pen names, such as Adrian Manning, Lane Carlson, West Straits and Ted Neachtain.Norton can be reached at [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

Wolves

He let the Sunday paper funny pages slip to the floor. Dorothy did not like it when he did that, but she was in the kitchen cooking their Sunday dinner, a pot roast. He chuckled as he thought of the L’il Abner strip that showed the muscular Abner running around Dogpatch, chased by a curvy Daisy Mae and Mammy Yokum.

They were chasing the big lunk to get him to propose to Daisy Mae. The strip was one of his favorites, though not of his wife's. Dorothy Finucane thought cartoonist Al Capp was making mean fun of country people, of whom she was one and proud. She didn't care, either, for her new husband’s habit of dropping newspapers on the floor by his chair.

Considering that Myles Finucane and Dorothy were married almost three months, they weren't an unreasonable set of complaints by a bride to her husband. Finucane was trying to improve his bachelor ways, having lived solo since his first wife left him back in 1928. When he awoke most mornings Finucane thanked God for his good fortune and for his beautiful Dorothy. Most mornings she was not in their bed, having worked an overnight nursing shift at Bethesda Naval Hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Finucane had an unusual new marriage this year of 1941, and when one was sleeping, the other was working. Finucane was both an assistant Secretary of the Treasury, a Reserve Navy commander in the Office of Naval Intelligence. And, most important, he was known as Fin-the-Fixer for President Roosevelt for the past eight years--on call to handle tough assignments when FDR tossed one to him. They were definitely not the kind of assignments that got one praise in newspapers or the halls of government.

They were the kind of assignments that resulted in gunfire, as one had in Cuba two years before, and the streets of Washington in the present year. World War Two was two years old; America was neutral, but Finucane wasn't. His war began in Cuba with Nazi spies trying to kill him, and continued in the Capital when he was ambushed by two Nazi assassins who died in what the papers afterward called a bungled robbery. Finucane was caught in crossfire between the two German intelligence organizations, the Abwehr and the Nazi SS-SD. The gunfire had cost the life of a senior Treasury agent Ralph Morris, and the only good outcome from the event was that Finucane was able to take a long honeymoon to Hawaii, to throw off any other Nazi killers who might be stalking him. This December weekend was one that both he and Dorothy had earned--she was on day duty Friday, off Saturday, and Sunday. Friday evening Finucane picked up his wife at the hospital for an early dinner in Georgetown and a double feature--two films with the popular comedians Abbott and Costello, in an army, then a navy movie about the national draft that had passed the Congress the year before by one vote. The audience howled at Costello’s antics.

Finucane enjoyed Dorothy’s laughter, realizing it was relief from a hard week dealing with ailing sailors brought to Washington with malaria and other diseases.

The couple had been invited to a dinner party Saturday night out in the Chevy Chase suburb in Maryland, where Finucane's friend Thomas Tommy-the-Cork Corcoran had moved after leaving government service for the new role as a successful highly paid lobbyist. Corcoran had been after Finucane for almost a year to join his firm and make money. Finucane resisted, but kept the association with Corcoran because he had wondered how long FDR and Secretary Henry Morgenthau would find him useful, especially as Finucane had a Nazi target on his back.

Dorothy was pleased to get the Corcoran invitation and opportunity to dress up in more than her white nurse's uniform . On Saturday morning Finucane accompanied her to a downtown department store, where he insisted she buy two formal gowns, damn the expense. The gowns and associated garments cost $125, which Finucane paid from his checking account. He didn't mind the cost, as Dorothy looked smashing in both gowns. Finucane thought, but did not say, that Dorothy would look smashing in a ragged blouse and skirt like Daisy Mae.

That Saturday night they were late leaving their two-bedroom apartment because Dorothy changed her mind and gown twice before she settled on the purple one. The drive out to Chevy Chase was pleasant, light traffic, as the car radio brought the sounds of Tommy Dorsey's band at some place called the Meadowbrook in New Jersey.

Finucane got lost in Chevy Chase and had to get more precise directions to Corcoran's white colonial high atop a hill, the end of a winding driveway. A youngster took their car and parked it as they climbed a set of brick stairs to the front door. After he rang, the big wide door was opened by a tall black man in a tux. He took their coats and hats and led them to a large parlor off the hallway.

Finucane saw that there were about a dozen men and women in the room, most younger than he. Corcoran turned from a bar and shouted his name, adding, Folks, 'Fin-the-Fixer' is in the house...

Finucane saw that Dorothy was startled by Corcoran's shout. Finucane looked around and saw that most of the men in the room were strangers, as were the women with them.

Corcoran led them to a big blue sofa where two women sat. One was Mrs. Corcoran, whom Finucane had never met. Introductions took a few minutes and then Finucane excused himself to get Dorothy a gin drink. Another couple arrived amid hubbub and Finucane was able to quietly pass the drink to Dorothy and join her by the sofa. The women were deep in talk about fashions of the day. He had nothing to contribute and instead he surveyed the others in the room.

Circulate, pal, Corcoran said, patting Finucane's shoulder in passing. Finucane rose and followed Corcoran to a group of three men. One, a tall, thin blonde fellow with long, lanky hair, turned to him and said, Do you work for Mr. Morgenthau? Finucane nodded. The fellow, who didn't give his name, continued, I was thinking of applying at Treasury, but Donovan's new outfit sounds like the way to go.

Finucane did not reply but continued to smile at the young man, who abruptly changed the subject.

Did you go to Brown with Corky? he asked. Finucane shook his head no. The fellow took a deep swallow of his scotch and water.

I think I saw you around the yard. Didn't you teach there a year or so ago?

No, Finucane said.

Could have sworn you were a junior master -- what house were you in?

House? Finucane asked.Residence, the fellow mumbled, obviously embarrassed he had assumed too much.

Corcoran came to the fellow's aid by laughing. Claude, Mr. Finucane here commuted to his school on the Third Avenue El--from his dad's house.

The men laughed, save Finucane. Finucane sipped his scotch, wondering what led the young man to presume they had been at college together?

The conversation veered again-- to how Col. Donovan was recruiting the right men for his secret spy unit.

He has my resume, Claude said. It would beat peeling potatoes at Fort Dix. Be an easy way to a commission. He wants Ivy League and I have three languages.

Finucane wondered but did not say how Donovan would react to young applicants bragging how they would beat the draft by joining his new intelligence organization, recently renamed as the Office of Strategic Services (OSS).

When Finucane moved back to the bar for a refill, he was approached by another thin young fellow in a blue suit that fit him well. Reddish brown mop of hair and all big Adam's apple and shy grin.Sir, he said, "I don't know if you remember me, but we met

when you kept those gangsters away from my family. He held out his hand. Jack Kennedy, you know my father."Finucane shook the outstretched hand.

Sure, ah, Jack. How are you? Finucane asked.

He studied the younger man, who didn't look old enough to be drinking Corcoran's liquor. And this Kennedy did not seem as robust as his father, Joseph Kennedy, former U.S. Ambassador to the Court of St. James, London.

What brings you to Washington? Finucane asked, before pointing to his empty glass for refill as the bartender picked it up.

Came down to try for the Navy, Kennedy said, but they say I didn't make the physical. Talked to dad and he suggested I look you up...

Finucane raised his refreshed scotch, wondering what to say, what to tell this young fellow.

Come see me next week. We'll see what can be done.

Kennedy's smile was reward enough, as Finucane turned from him to return to Dorothy who was now surrounded by three other young men drawn to her beauty. One fellow was rejecting the idea she was a nurse. You have to be in the movies, he insisted. Finucane knew his work this night was to keep the wolves at bay. Jack Kennedy watched the tall Finucane walk away, to join another group. He also saw Finucane’s wife among the women clustered by the big blue covered sofa.

She was a beauty, no doubt. Kennedy wondered how Finucane was able to land such a swell doll. In swing parlance, she was a killer-diller. Kennedy had seen many English beauties during his stay in London but now the family was back on Cape Cod. Most everyone, except young Joe, his older brother, who had gone off for Navy-officer training.

Their father wanted the sons to get into the service so they would have it on the record when it came time to run for public office, and young Joe was first in line for that. Jack Kennedy understood that his father would never again serve the Administration or the party. And if he could only get through the Navy physical again, the old man would be satisfied with his second son. Kennedy, sipping a Scotch, wandered from room to room in this mansion, wondering if he would ever be free of the weakness and pain that made his days so difficult?

Gregory Silvermaster made sure that the light over his front door was turned off as he welcomed the visitors. The hall light was off, too, as they shed their overcoats and filed into the living room, where the shades were pulled down.

The two men and women took their accustomed seats on the sofa and adjacent Morris chairs. Helen Silvermaster poured coffee into two cups for the two who took coffee at night.

I’ve called you here because of a very important change in our operations, said the tall host with gray hair, and a small Hitler-like mustache.

Our friends in the east have ordered that we stop dealing with the party people here in this country, especially Browder.

But Greg, your wife is Browder’s daughter, Harry Dexter White said.

Doesn’t matter, Greg Silvermaster said. "They feel there’s too much possibility that our reports could be lost or stolen. The FBI has been looking into the party, you know.

So, from now on, Elizabeth will take, ah, items directly to New York. The fellow works directly with GRU there. It’ll be easier.

Has this to do with the invasion? White asked.

Yes, said Elizabeth Bentley. My contact, Golos, said they need information quickly about war production and goals. The ‘motherland’ is fighting for its life. We have to help anyway we can. What do we tell party people who ask? White asked.

Nothing, Silvermaster said. "None of their business how

we help the motherland."

Chapter 2

Changes

It was a week later before Finucane sat down and contemplated the roller-coaster ride he had been on, actually the ride the entire nation had been on. As a kid he had always been puzzled by how quickly and why things could go from a sunny day at the beach to the dark night of tragedy. One day you are healthy, the next your world is turned upside down with disease. He had no answer, nor did anyone else, either. The philosophers and priests said it was the way of the world.

That Sunday Dorothy called him to their kitchen table when the roast was done, complete with roasted potatoes and boiled carrots.

As he carved the roast, Dorothy took her seat and smiled. I see you’ve picked up the Sunday paper, so I don’t have to do it. I’ll get you a maid to come in every other day to pick up my papers, Finucane joked as he placed a slice of