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“Well, mein Führer, those addresses to oppressed Germans at the Polish, Czech, and Austrian borders, promising them liberation from other masters and eventual incorporation into the Reich alarmed America and the other Western nations. Not a tremendous amount, in the American case—after all, that nation is obsessed with isolation—but enough for them to feel the need for a strong military man in the White House.” Halstead clenched both fists and kept walking in a straight line. “You’re right, Paul: I overreached.” The limping Goebbels struggled to keep up with a Halstead who refused to slow down for him, but he managed to do so and to keep speaking at the same time. “That is why I came here today, mein Führer. It would be a good thing if you sent a congratulatory message to the nominees, a gesture of peace and good will. After all, the Republicans are certain to win the election if the Democrats insist on support for the Treaty.” Now Halstead stopped to gaze in thought at the nearest mountainside enclosing the base. “Yes, they shall certainly win. Good idea, Paul. Send a message in my name, feel free to say what you wish—I trust your judgement—congratulating both men on their nomination. Be sure to do the same for Governor Cox, but, you’re right, it’s Wood in November.” “Very good, mein Führer.” Goebbels smiled, both at Halstead’s agreement to his proposal, and at the respite from overexertion the same man had given him. “The Americans will settle down eventually, and will have forgotten all about Europe by the time we are ready to act.” Halstead smiled and shook the other man’s hand. “Yes, it’s good to see we’re on the same page, Paul. Now, I must attend to other research being conducted, research a bit too sensitive, even for a member of my cabinet.” Goebbels returned the shake with one pump, then took a step backward. “Understood, mein Führer. I hope to see you in Berlin soon.” “Yes, I will be back in due time. Good day, Paul.” |