White Rose Black Forest(46)
“It’s more than that, but spying is a part of what we do. I set up the OSS last year to coalesce the various intelligence departments of the army, the navy, and the air force. Our job is to coordinate espionage activities behind enemy lines for all branches of the armed forces. We have more than ten thousand men and women working for us now.”
“What was in place before the OSS?”
“A few old ladies who looked after some filing cabinets at the War Department.”
John knew more than he’d revealed. He’d heard about “Wild Bill” and his pet project. It had just taken him a while to realize that was who he was talking to. The OSS was a place where the well connected could play at war. Donovan used his connections in the old-boy network to staff the agency, with the personnel recruited from Ivy League schools, prestigious law firms, and big banks. It appeared to be a club for a privileged caste John was trying to escape.
“We’re neck-deep in both conflicts right now. We have agents in the Pacific and behind enemy lines in Europe. These men and women volunteer to walk among the predators, with no reception committees, and often no safe houses or friends in the most hostile territory imaginable. These are the bravest, finest men and women in the armed forces, providing us with vital intelligence on a daily basis.”
A gray-haired woman in a black dress tapped Donovan on the shoulder, and he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Donovan told her he’d see her in a few minutes, waiting until she’d gone to continue speaking. “This is a new type of war. The old days of arranging a fight in a field are long gone. This war is going to be won by the side who knows more about what the other guy is thinking, and who knows what he’s going to do before he does it.”
“Why are you telling me all these things, sir?”
“I’ve spoken to your father a lot over these last few months. His eyes light up with pride when he mentions your name. He told me he wanted to leave the reins of the family business to you, but you wanted something else. He also told me how you and your brother have fought since he took over.”
John wondered how much this man knew about him. There could be only one reason why Donovan was so curious.
“My father told you I didn’t approve of what my brother was doing with his business?”
“Among other things. We spoke about you at length. He said you weren’t as comfortable as your brother in this world.” Donovan gestured around the room. “I know you joined the marines because, deep down, you wanted to prove you could make it on your own. I know because I see myself in you. I was a lawyer before the last war, but I wanted more. I wanted to serve, but not just my country. I wanted to prove something to myself.”
The man’s magnetism was undeniable. He was soft spoken but carried an unquestionable authority.
“Do you think joining the OSS would be something you’d be interested in?”
“What kind of men are you looking for, sir?”
“I’m looking for a cat burglar with a conscience. I need a man who can work with his intelligence before his heart. I need someone who’s honest yet devious, inconspicuous yet audacious. I need someone who’s hot-blooded and cool, all at the same time.
“With your skillset and the manner in which you’ve already proven yourself in the field, I know you’d be an ideal fit for our organization.”
“I assume you’ve already been through my service records?”
“We’re meticulous, John. We have to be. Our role in this war is too important to be left to chance.”
John turned around. His father was forty feet away standing at the bar, drink in hand. Donovan was right—he did look proud.
The letter from Penelope came three months later when John was entrenched in OSS training in a park in rural Virginia masquerading as the Reich. The instructors were teaching him, and the other recruits, how to survive behind enemy lines. Without a training facility, the fledgling organization had taken over segments of Prince William Forest Park, turning former summer camps into secret training grounds. John was coming back from several nights with little sleep in the field. A hot shower and a bed seemed like luxury beyond measure. Mail call came, and he was handed a letter. The postmark on the envelope was from two weeks before. John sat on his bunk as he opened it. He hadn’t seen her in almost six weeks, had barely felt the lack of her. He knew what was coming before he opened it. He would have done the same in her position. He read the first two words of the letter and almost laughed. It was the ultimate cliché of war, and it was happening to him.
Dear John,
I met a man. A captain in the air force. I want to marry him. I’m asking you for a divorce as the last act of love between us. I don’t love you anymore. You’re not the man I married. I love someone else. Please help me leave you. Please do this for the love that we once shared. I know we’ll always care for one another. A love as strong as the one we shared never truly dies. But our time is done. You have another life now, separate from mine. Our souls are no longer joined, are no longer indivisible from another as they once were.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me, and grant me the divorce I need to leave you with my soul intact.
Sincerely,
Penelope
It had been years since he cried. He didn’t even know he was still capable of it. His emotions felt alien in a place like this, and he looked around to make sure no one was watching. The letter was still firmly in his grip. He couldn’t let it go. He had no idea he still loved her. He knew that he had stowed his feelings for her until it was convenient to revisit them. Perhaps once the war was over—maybe then there would have been time to love her again. But now it was too late. He reached for the pencil he kept beside his bed and scrawled down a few words on a piece of paper. He could never hate her, not when it had been his fault. He read and reread the letter and then wrote her back—You can have your divorce—and mailed it to her the next day.