Churchill's Gambit: A Novel Of World War 2! Deception And Intrigue

By Robert J. Parker

"Churchill's Gambit" is a fascinating account of the unexplained World War II flight of Rudolf Hess to Great Britain in an attempted peace overture between Germany and England. But, was it actually a bold move of deception by Winston Churchill to actually split the German/Russian alliance and gain for England a powerful ally against Adolf Hitler

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert John Parker
• Release date: Nov 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9789692792417

Book preview

Introduction

A picture containing text Description automatically generated

May 1941.

E

ngland and Germany are at war. All of England’s European allies, including France, have been defeated and have surrendered to the powerful German war machine. Unable to aid Britain, the United States remains determinedly neutral and isolationist. The British are all but defeated but refuse to capitulate. Their position is desperate, but not hopeless. Perhaps, something could alter that arc of history.

The take off was smooth. The twin engines hummed with power. The evening sky was clear and calm, the horizon stretching clearly into the distance. The freedom of flight had always given him satisfaction. He enjoyed the serenity of the air and the isolation of the cockpit. The exhilaration of being airborne was matched only by the thrill of being in his Master’s company. Tonight he would begin a journey that would restore his position in the eyes of his Master. He would redeem himself in his own mind, his master’s heart, and in his nation’s soul.

Checking his instruments, setting his course, and going over his flight plan—these actions all renewed his energy and determination for what was ahead. It would not be easy. Things could go wrong and success was certainly not guaranteed, but failure was not an option—success was vital: for himself, for his fatherland, and for his Fuhrer Adolf Hitler.

The plane was powerful and dependable, his scheme was well-rehearsed, his contacts had been alerted, his cover story was ironclad, and his confidence remained at a high level. Everything was in place. It was now only a matter of time and operation. He could clearly envision the upcoming sequence of events in his mind. He would succeed and he would receive the gratitude and adulation of his peers and a grateful nation. Deutschland would be fully and completely restored to its rightful place in the world community. But most importantly, he would regain the exalted place in the life of his leader—Adolf Hitler, who would once again value him above all others as his most trusted, most dedicated, and most essential deputy.

He was Rudolf Hess, Deputy Fuhrer in the Nazi party, and tonight he was flying to Great Britain on a secret, and officially unauthorized, attempt to negotiate a peace between Germany and England—the last holdout against the all-powerful and all-conquering Third Reich.

Chapter 1

Winston Churchill

A picture containing text Description automatically generated

Spring 1939.

Two years before the bizarre flight of Hess to Britain.

B

ritish Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had signed the Munich agreement with Germany in September 1938. This document had sacrificed the nation of Czechoslovakia to Adolf Hitler’s insatiable appetite for conquest in hopes of avoiding a Second World War. It temporarily appeased Hitler and prevented a European war at that time. At first praised, it was soon viewed as an encouraging concession to Hitler for further aggression. Germany soon reneged on her benign commitments. Europe remained on the edge of war—and Churchill remained out of office.

‘Dark days loom. The scourge and plague of the evil Hitler and his band of Nazi hooligans threaten the peace of not only Germany’s European neighbours, but the civilized world, and yes, the very air that we breathe. We must act now. We must prepare now. We must rally to the common cause at once. We cannot procrastinate. We cannot hesitate. To concede time to this fiendish foe is to risk defeat and subjugation. I beg you to consider the urgency at this critical moment’.

Winston Churchill sighed as he concluded his speech. He was satisfied with the speech, if not the pessimism that he feared its warning might encourage. He understood the deafness in the ears of those he would be speaking to and the closed thoughts and minds of those to whom he was appealing and beseeching. Tonight the speech was to an empty room. A lonely rehearsal at Chartwell, his stately manor house. He glanced at his pocket watch; the speech had lasted twenty-five minutes. He had hoped to finish in under twenty minutes, the length agreed to in the contract with the radio network. He examined the pages on his rostrum, crossed out a word here and there, added a phrase, underlined another, and set the papers aside. They would be re-typed. He had people to do that sort of thing. Perhaps he would go over it again tomorrow before the scheduled wireless broadcast. Churchill invested an hour of preparation, editing, and rehearsing for every minute of speech that he delivered. He was very concerned with the content, the message, the impact, and most of all—the payment he would receive. Hopefully, newspapers and journals would reprint the speech in their publications---again for payment. He would speak with his agents who arranged these matters.

Many knew him. Many ignored him. Others wished he had been forgotten. Although disregarded and scorned by many, he remained a persistent and prickly voice due to his prestigious and pugnacious personality. But for HIM, the present was the future; and the future was where he could redeem his reputation and his past. To salvage and save the troubling present would protect and enhance not only his destiny, but the world’s. If only anyone would listen and take action. If only he were to be granted the opportunity to lead and to rectify the situation. That if was now looming large in his immediate life. Time was no longer on his side, but his confidence in himself and his faith in what he believed rarely waned.

In his weaker moments, the ‘black dog’ of depression would sometimes envelope him, and in those deeply forbidding and bleak moments his optimistic vision would be shrouded in hopelessness. But he would emerge from these dark clouds of heavy melancholia with a renewed fortitude of conviction and assurance that he was destined to lead the world out of danger and on to a greater fulfillment.

The next morning, upon arising, Churchill went through his daily routine: absorbing the morning papers while breakfasting in bed; sifting through his latest correspondence, all the while remaining in his robe for as long as possible before dressing to engage the early day affairs of business. As per usual, during and after breakfast, he listed notes to be sent to fellow acquaintances, friends, and politicians, to be lengthened with the appropriate additions by his secretary. It was a tedious but essential chore, and he sought to sweep it up as quickly as possible before tackling the meat of the day.

Churchill called in his primary secretary, Joel Holyrood, and began reviewing his schedule for the day. Holyrood entered, professional to the core. ‘Good Morning, Sir. Your schedule and memos for today’. In return, Churchill handed Holyrood a pile of notes and papers. Holyrood too, had an assistant to help him frame and write the obligatory bits. Later, Churchill would expand or add flourishes, for an intimate, personalized touch to the finished notes and letters before signing. These would be completed by eleven-o’clock, but no later than noon for the mid-day post.

‘Yes, and send in Williams please’.

‘Of course, Sir’.

Churchill and his wife, Clementine, retained a full-time household staff of assistants, cooks, and gardeners to maintain the everyday routine at Chartwell. The maintenance of the manor house, grounds, and staff was expensive, and money was always a problem with Winston Churchill. Although born at Blenheim Palace, the nephew of the Duke of Marlborough, and raised in aristocratic settings, he was without substantial income. He had neither inherited nor married into wealth, and his monetary situation had always been fragile. He spent lavishly, lived elegantly, and earned meagerly. He was forever in debt to his bank, his creditors, and his friends---who generously loaned him sufficient amounts in order to keep him financially afloat. He earned small amounts from his government positions, but his main income was from writing. He wrote prodigiously: biographies, political commentaries, general histories, and essays concerning current events. The royalties and payments for this writing was impressive, but his expenses, debts, and taxes far outreached his income. It was a never-ending struggle. Hence his meeting with Williams so early in the day. The overdraw on his bank account had ballooned to a crisis, and it would have to be dealt with, front and center, this morning.

His chief accountant, Scherman Williams, appeared. A gaunt man with hawkish features and rimless glasses, his slender fingers were armed with papers and notes, showing numbers that painted a bleak picture.

After mutual greetings, Williams got right to the point. Churchill was broke, spending too much again, and not earning enough to pay his creditors the interest on his debt, let alone the principal. Lurking, as always, was the taxman, to whom he was also in arrears. The world was going to hell, and Winston Churchill had plans and designs to do something about it, but here he was, forced to deal with the mundane preoccupation of taxes, debts, and bills.

As a Member of Parliament, he earned a modest income, but he no longer held a better paying government post. Churchill had now been out of government for some time, and his sentence of ministerial purgatory had been a decade of estrangement—plus the embarrassment of having to stand on the sidelines as history paraded before and past him. The civilized world was falling apart, and he could only voice repeated warnings. This had transpired to endlessly frustrate him. As a student of history, he knew so very well how history had a way of revolving, and the turntable of events had now swung around to partially open the gates for his potential return to prominence. Like the dismissed coach or manager without a team, who is only able to kibbutz from a distance, Winston Churchill had continued writing, lecturing, plotting, planning, and speaking out about the pitfalls of what he considered wrong-headed policy. Despite being ignored, ridiculed, and criticized for his comments, Churchill tirelessly continued to publish and bellow his dire warnings. Written off for his belligerency, pessimism, and obstinacy, he felt his doggedly determined message was gradually awakening many in England and Europe as being astoundingly prophetic. He sensed he would be recalled to high rank within the government--- the inevitability coursed through his bones, and when resurrected he would be as staunch and as unyielding in power as he was when he roamed the jungle of political wilderness. He had appeared to be shouting into the wind---but amazingly, that critical gale was now reversing its direction, and powering a growing tide of energy behind him, billowing his sails and forwarding his call of alarm and preparation. Churchill’s repeated prodding and promptings were beginning to generate a promise of hope to those in desperation. And that fearsome desperation was what England was now confronting.

Churchill listened to Williams’ list of the surging and ongoing debts and worse, his lack of income, both present and beyond. He had already mortgaged his future income from writing to the maximum amount allowable. Creditors from banks, to tailors, to the tax office, were all demanding immediate payment. It seemed hopeless.

Churchill could only stand to hear so much. The situation was drastic. ‘Williams, please telephone Mr Bracken and Mr Simpson. If they are available, have them meet me later today at Baxter House. It is a bit closer to London for their convenience. You have my permission to tell them that the situation is dire and critical. I accept your conclusions and now it is time for some hard recommendations and remedies’. Williams nodded and took notes. Churchill paused. ‘Is that fair Williams?’ While also seeking approval, he added ‘And sensible?’

‘Quite, Sir. I will proceed as you wish’. Williams gathered his papers and documents and retreated. This persistent debt matter would have to be settled---once and for all, thought Churchill.

Churchill needed a positive moment and was anxious for his morning bath: he was excited to lounge in its relaxing warm waters. He was hosting a dinner party this evening, and was expecting guests to be arriving throughout the day. One guest, an American whom had recently arrived in Britain, was the nephew of Archibald Simpson, one of the gentlemen to whom he was to meet later this afternoon to resolve Churchill’s messy and pressing financial dilemma. Simpson was one of Churchill’s closest American acquaintances, and his young nephew would be welcomed as an overnight guest. Churchill always enjoyed a mix of ages and political points of view, and tonight’s dinner would meet that standard.

The cost of these sometimes extravagant gatherings took a toll on the Churchill budget, but it kept him abreast of events and also sharpened his skill and willingness to debate. He forever desired his name to remain forward in the minds of those who served in and out of government. It also provided another opportunity to trumpet the warnings, fears, and opinions that he harboured concerning world affairs.

‘Mr Wilkens, Sir’, announced a servant, as he ushered the American into Churchill’s bedroom suite.

Such was the case as Churchill exited his bath and found Roger Wilkens standing in his doorway. To say this was not what Wilkens anticipated would be an understatement. He was confused and at a loss for words, but it was no bother to Churchill, who was only too eager to be introduced. The short, balding, and portly gentleman splashed out of his tub. He was pink from the heat of the bath as he aggressively toweled himself off. Eyeing the tall stranger at his bedroom doorway, he offered a welcome. ‘Yes, how do you do? Please come in, young man’.

Roger was shocked. Being in his early thirties, he no longer considered himself to be young, nor did he expect the head of the household to appear in the raw, not withstanding a large towel. ‘And I suppose you to be Archie Simpson’s nephew. Just in from the States, eh’?

Roger didn’t know what to say, so he replied a meek, ‘Yes’.

‘Simpson tells me you are quite the scholar and world traveler. And now you are enrolled in an advanced degree of learning from the school of Archie Simpson. Learning the ropes from a veteran statesman and master financier, eh?’

‘I suppose so, Sir… or, so you could say’. Roger half-shrugged, half-smiled, hesitated and continued, ‘Yes, my uncle has quite a reputation, and I hope to learn from him, while I assist him in his work’.

‘I am meeting with your uncle later today—have you spoken with him yet?’

‘No, I just arrived in Britain yesterday and received a note at my hotel that I was to attend your dinner party tonight. I hope to meet up with Uncle Archie later this week.’

Actually, this dinner party was the last thing that Roger Wilkens desired to do, to meet with a band of out-dated old codgers—especially, the eccentric and out of touch Churchill. But the note was insistent and promised an entertaining evening. We shall see, thought a doubtful Roger.

Roger tried to avert his gaze but caught himself staring at the odd gentleman as he applied a soft fragrant powder to his skin before dressing. Nothing in this comical introduction was doing anything to change his mind. Churchill began dressing. ‘I am glad you are able to attend our little dinner gathering this evening. We have an interesting collection of guests, and hopefully, the topics will engender your curiosity. We shall be anxious to hear the American point of view’.

‘Yes Sir, my uncle’s note said I would not be disappointed’.

Churchill smiled as he began to engage his blue polka-dot bow tie. ‘Simpson is a bright and forward looking American, and with strong connections to your President Roosevelt. Seems he has been snooping around the continent lately.’

‘Yes, he was in Europe for several weeks, just returned. I am anxious to see him.’

Roger was unable to shake the absurdity of the situation. This was hardly why he had come over to the United Kingdom. But here he was, in the countryside of rural Kent, England. Archie had told him he was going to enjoy visiting Chartwell, Churchill’s modest estate, and that he would be well wined and dined. Further, Archie believe Roger would enjoy being both exposed to, and challenged, by some engaging conversation. His uncle was anxious for Roger to mix with numerous experienced and ranking individuals from many different fields.

‘I intend to consult Simpson on many issues…’ Churchill sighed in thought over his mounting debt concerns, ‘especially with the European political situation as volatile as it is’.

This was where Roger wondered whether he could tolerate the old guy and his far-fetched beliefs: Hitler, the Nazis, the threat of the Germans, another world war --- to Roger it was all hoakim. The world wasn’t going to go to war, and the Nazis, although repellant, were not going to do anything more than regain what Germany had lost in the last war. They might rattle their sabres and threaten different ethnic and religious groups with prejudicially unfair demonstrations, but little if anything would come of it. Most of all, to Roger and many other like-minded pacifists, the United States should remain as far away as possible from Europe’s endless arguments and disputes, let alone wars. Wasn’t the bloodbath of the previous Great War warning enough to avoid involvement in these issues?

Arranging his tie, Churchill continued, ‘Yes, you are going to hear some interesting discussion tonight, and from a variety of perspectives’. Waistcoat and suit jacket now on, Churchill was fully dressed. ‘And you will better understand your Uncle Archie’s view of the world’.

Roger silently endured the prediction, feeling that it was pointless to disagree, or to acknowledge Churchill’s the sky is falling in projections. But Roger had accepted his uncle’s request and here he was. He would do his best.

At that moment, the large and formidable man who had examined Roger’s identification on arrival at the manor house appeared. His sturdy physicality indicated someone you would not want to quarrel with or challenge. Obviously some sort of personal bodyguard. He gave Roger a friendly wink. And to Churchill, ‘Ready, Sir’?

‘Quite right, Thompson, let us be off’. Churchill, with his hat in hand, headed out the front door and a waiting vehicle. On the way out and over his shoulder, Churchill said to Roger, ‘I have a nearby engagement to attend. See that you have a decent lunch and a rest, and please enjoy yourself by looking over the property, and … I will see you at dinner’.

With that, Churchill put on his hat and rode off.

Chapter 2

Politics

A picture containing text Description automatically generated

Berlin, Spring 1939.

R

udolf Hess left the meeting with mixed feelings. He was excited that Germany was making plans to regain her lost territory from Poland and France, but he was worried that perhaps Adolf Hitler was reaching too far and too fast. Militarily and economically Germany had already reestablished her role as the dominant nation in Europe. All of Europe again now respected and feared her. Perhaps it was time to pause.

The meeting had featured Hermann Goring bragging about the might of his Luftwaffe air arm; Generals Wilhelm Keitel and Alfred Jodl reassuring Hitler how the Anglo/Franco armies could be swept aside by modern blitzkrieg tank and aircraft tactics; Admiral Karl Donitz assuring Hitler that his submarines could starve Britain into submission by destroying Atlantic merchant shipping; and Heinrich Himmler declaring that his SS brigades would then begin cleansing Europe of Bolshevik/communist political elements and sub-human ethnic groups. It all sounded so pat. But what really bothered Hess was the lack of interest for his input. No one seemed interested in what he had to say, or in his opinion. To Hess, his presence seemed that of an invited guest. There was no consideration to his high rank as Deputy Fuhrer—Hess’s contributions were not sought or acknowledged. Worse than troubling, Hess was angry. He felt as if he was an outsider: an observer, a junior colleague, an afterthought. It was humiliating.

Trying to hide his emotions, Hess went to his office and conferred with his chief adjutant, Oberstleutnant Werner Heinz. ‘Well Werner, they are preparing to invade Poland.’

Heinz could sense Hess’s frustration and responded neutrally, ‘England’s Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain says that will mean war’.

‘Hitler believes they might back down---again’. But Hess realized that they might not.

Hess had been spending much time with Karl and Albrecht Haushofer, the father and son university experts on foreign affairs. Both believed in Hitler and the Nazi movement, but not to the extremes to which some more devoted Nazis adhered. They had convinced Hess that a more gradual approach to European domination, with an emphasis on peacefully incorporating nations such as Great Britain into their sphere of influence or alliance, would be a more pragmatic policy. The Haushofers understood the power of military might, but also the subtle use of diplomacy to coerce and encourage results. Hitler had used this approach in securing the Rhineland, Austria, and now Czechoslovakia. Influenced by the Haushofers, Hess was convinced that there was room for both forms of conquest. Reckless behavior risked error and disaster.

Yet the Haushofer approach, and Hess himself, were receiving less and less voice. Heinz noticed a pile of folders on Hess’s desk and offered to help sort through some of the day’s administrative business.

‘Don’t bother, Werner’, and he called in his primary office secretary, Martin Bormann. ‘Martin, see what you can do with these pending demands for attention’.

‘Yes, Sir’. And he exited immediately with the entire bundle.

Werner Heinz’s eyes widened. ‘Herr Bormann seems to be taking on more and more duties and functions’.

‘Yes, and he is totally dependable. It is amazing how much he gets done, and in an immediate amount of time. He is quite faithful and efficient’.

Heinz shrugged, ‘I am sure he is. Pretty soon there won’t be anything left for you and me to do. Eh’? These thoughts and reminders always made Hess nervous, but he remained calm. Heinz was well aware of this discomfort. Hess stared hard at Heinz before responding, ‘Don’t forget Werner, I am the Fuhrer’s second in command’.

Heinz nodded and grinned, ‘Oh I won’t forget … Herr Deputy Fuhrer’.

Hess smiled. Werner Heinz could be so infuriating.

Diagram Description automatically generated

Washington DC, Spring 1939.

3000 miles away, U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt also sensed, as many other pragmatic world leaders sensed, that war was coming. Not that this war was necessarily inevitable. No war could ever be conceded as inevitable--Roosevelt would never adhere to that. No, he believed war was caused by men -- men who desired war, or who tolerated war – but they would not be the ones who allowed this next war. No, sadly, the next war would be brought on by the very people who were attempting to resist war. The world was plagued by appeasers, defeatists, isolationists, and disarmers. It seemed incongruous, but it was true. The ‘peacemakers’ had emerged as the most encouraging faction to those grasping for power and conquest, and the most dangerous to those nations who were now attempting to avert a war.

Roosevelt felt hamstrung by an unending twofold dilemma: the Great Depression and the rise of the dictators across the globe. But he was also frustrated by the time limit imposed on his presidency. Vainly, the ever supremely self-assured Roosevelt sought to apply his personality, inspiration, wisdom, and practicality to solving the problems confronting the US and now, the world. With his second term coming to an end, time was running out. Therefore, what he desired, and what no previous American president had ever undertaken, was an unprecedented third term.

Adjusting his cigarette holder, FDR sat in his office with his chief aide Harry Hopkins, who spoke frankly and to the hard point, ‘First, we must try to make no mention of the third term until closer to the election, perhaps a year from now, maybe the spring of 1940’.

Roosevelt exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘I agree, but we will need an issue that will demand us remaining in office’.

Hopkins tilted his head, ‘I don’t think the Depression will be suitable. We’ve carried that banner for almost eight years. It’s petering out as a rallying point’.

Roosevelt sighed, ‘No, domestic politics won’t do it. It has to be more of a world theme with a greater moral imperative’.

Hopkins nodded. ‘I’d say Hitler, or the dictators, but everyone from Stalin to Hitler has supporters right here in the States. And they have yet to commit the singular grave action that will unite the US in opposition. If they were to do that, we would have our issue to justify your retention’.

‘Well, it’s only a matter of time before Hitler bites off more than the other nations of Europe will let him chew, and then the next war will be on’. Roosevelt gestured with his finger, ‘Assuming England and France finally stand up to him’.

Hopkins rose to leave, ‘That could be a problem. Why don’t you consult with Archie Simpson. He will be returning to the U.S. He recently sent me a memo and is convinced Hitler will soon try to grab Poland. Unfortunately, his buddy, our ambassador in England, Joe Kennedy, believes England would be foolish to do anything about it’.

Roosevelt coughed and shuffled some papers. ‘I’ve had enough of Joe Kennedy. If England fights, they will need more of everything, and we can sell it to them—that should make Joe’s investments go up, and maybe make him happy. Yes, I want to see Simpson when he returns. And by the way, let’s keep an open mind on replacing Kennedy—he talks nonsense, and won’t shut up’.

‘Joe reports what he sees, that’s for sure, but Kennedy’s cables are anything but optimistic about England facing down the Nazis. He seems almost completely in league with the appeasers’.

Roosevelt put his hand to his forehead in exasperation. ‘Can’t he understand that he is tugging the string in the wrong direction’?

FDR, although a protégé of former President Woodrow Wilson, realized that the numerous isolationists in the US Congress, and the feeble League of Nations that Wilson championed, would never prevent a war. War would not be prevented by a toothless and spineless international body of weak sisters. As much as FDR considered himself an internationalist in the best Wilson tradition, he would never agree to Wilson’s naïve weakness of pandering to pacifism and neutralism. These policies had only opened the door to the bullies of the world. Better to be armed and strong as his cousin President Theodore Roosevelt believed. Speak softly, but carry a big stick, President Teddy had proclaimed. And tyrants such as Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini only understood strength, power, and the will to wield it—ruthlessly wield it.

‘Do you want me to memo Kennedy, and remind him of what we are trying to do … and how, and why’?

‘Yes Harry, try again to talk some sense into the man. He cannot be that blind’.

So what to do? For Roosevelt the answer to the international war question would resolve his dilemma concerning the other question—how to be elected to another term.

The third term. Roosevelt thought and pondered to himself, not only had no one ever been elected to a third term, but no one had even attempted to RUN for a third term and go beyond George Washington’s splendidly unselfish two term example. The two term tradition, as the length of a president’s duration of office, had always been honoured. In fact, any potential ‘third term’ candidates had all rejected the temptation. Most were decidedly too old, too sick, too tired, or too anxious to get away and live a normal life, rather than even consider a run for a third term. This included George Washington.

But Franklin Roosevelt was in an unusual position. Only in his middle 50’s, he was young enough in age and enthusiasm; and he was vigorous enough in his energy, while remaining popular with the public. His physical condition, even allowing for his paralysis from polio, was generally very good. Of great importance to FDR was the ongoing desire to complete his plan to overcome the Great Depression. The New Deal had virtually ground to a halt, and only the most tirelessly faithful New Deal zealots were still excited by it. Many were now willing to redirect the program along other economic paths. Even if it had originally achieved some success at reviving the economy and satisfying an angry and heavily unemployed population, most senior members of FDR’s administration were willing to concede that the New Deal had run out of gas.

‘Harry, let’s keep pushing on Congress to spend more on re-armament. It’s way overdue.’ Hopkins nodded agreement, ‘Yes, there is some support there.’

But Hopkins lifted his eyebrows when FDR suggested, ‘And while we are at it, perhaps get a feel for a peacetime draft. Talk with some sympathetic Congressman. And let’s encourage a movement to get around these infernal neutrality laws. Use some creativity, twist some arms, but let’s be ready’.

‘Those are tough sells, Mr President’.

Both men understood that the U.S. needed to begin replacing antiquated weapons and military hardware with modern equipment. This was an ongoing issue, expensive and controversial. Roosevelt chuckled to himself, Maybe our useless outdated arms could be shipped overseas and sold to our European friends?

But if and when war came to Europe, who would the United States ally with? That was easy -- certainly not Hitler and the Nazis! The U.S. would support the like-minded nations of England and France. So how would Roosevelt manipulate U.S. policy to faithfully support a worthwhile ally while staying out of the actual fighting of the war? A European war requiring U.S. products