Kanata (44 page)

Britain immediately declared war. King waited nine days to announce that Canada would join them, a way to telegraph its status as an independent country. The First War had ended Canada's life as a colony; perhaps this one would complete the transformation to nation. It is odd, he thought, that German aggression played such a large part in Canada's sense of itself. But such is history, the currents difficult to detect when you're in its swirling waters, but when you look back, what seemed like coincidence or of little consequence suddenly gathers import.

2

M
ACKENZIE
K
ING,
O
GDENSBURG,
N
EW
Y
ORK,
1940

Roosevelt was eating the largest steak King had ever seen, rare and bloody, a prehistoric slab sitting in a lake of pale red juices. King doubted he could finish a steak an eighth its size. Where did that appetite come from? A right that God gave Americans. The president dabbed at the blood on his lip and examined the napkin. “I have been having a dreadful time with Congress,” he said.

Ogdensburg had been decorated for FDR's arrival, the streets lined with soldiers and citizens and a thousand flags. King wondered if the president knew that Ogdensburg had been burned to the ground by the British during the
War of 1812. This couldn't be coincidence, King thought. It was part of a divine plan, an illustration of the eternal laws of justice. What was destroyed in anger shall host a meeting of peace, a peace and alliance that will reverberate for all mankind. Roosevelt wanted to assist in the war effort without being seen to do so. His political enemies would accuse him of dragging the country into the war, but the United States needed to defend itself, and if FDR went through Congress it would take months of blustering debate. Better to do it on his own. Canada was the conduit through which all of this could be conducted, once again the go-between.

“Mackenzie, I can give you fifty destroyers. We'll deliver them to Halifax, fully crewed, then it's up to you Canadians to get them overseas. There's the possibility of 250,000 rifles, though little chance of ammunition, I'm afraid.”

The destroyers were World War I vintage, ancient hulks on the verge of being scuttled, though this was left unsaid. In return for this dubious gift the Americans got land on Canadian and British soil to build military bases. King realized that this agreement essentially shifted Canada's primary alliance from Britain to America. It was logical certainly, inevitable even. If King had learned one thing, it was to seize upon historical inevitabilities. If you didn't, someone else would and take the credit. Though how close should they get to the Americans, those bare-knuckle optimists, those uniquely sunny brutes? The polio-stricken Roosevelt was a curious choice to lead a people who saw health as a form of divinity.

King knew that the president was facing an election and that it was much on his mind. He asked him if he was confident of his chances.

“I could only be defeated by peace, Mackenzie,” he said through the haze of his cigarette. “In times of peace, the people want a manager. In times of trouble, they want a leader.”

“There is no danger of peace, Franklin, I can assure you.”

King marvelled at how alike he and Roosevelt were; both disdained pretension, sought simplicity, and trusted in God.

While King chatted amiably with FDR's secretary of war, Henry Stimson, Roosevelt drafted a joint agreement for defence between the two nations. He wrote it out in pencil on a piece of paper under the title “Permanent Joint Board of Defense.”

“I wonder about the use of the word ‘permanent,' ” King mused.

“Who knows what the future will bring, Mackenzie,” FDR said. “What if Canada is invaded? We would like to be able to get three hundred thousand troops onto Canadian soil within three hours.”

They had wanted to get troops on Canadian soil in the past, but had been unsuccessful, thank God.

Before going to bed that night King read from Ezekiel, which seemed to be calling to him of late.

I
n the morning it was warm and the air heavy. King sat in the president's car as they rolled slowly past people waving flags. FDR inspected the Pennsylvania Regiment, which was assembled in a field. Afterwards they all sang “Nearer My God to Thee” and King felt his body swelling, as if it were preparing to rise upward. You completed one stage on this earth and began another. He had had a vision that morning while lying half asleep—the most receptive state—of
climbing a staircase to find a blank white wall. It was not yet his time to go, that's what the dream was telling him. Too much to do.

When they parted, Roosevelt leaned toward King. “If anything more is needed, Mackenzie,” he said through that winning smile, “let it be done without my knowledge.”

3

Q
UEBEC
C
ITY,
1944

Winston Churchill took King into the map room they had laid out in the Citadel and showed him the battle areas. “The British troops are here,” Churchill said, pointing to a spot near the Adriatic. “They will go over the mainland and up the route that Napoleon took, driving into the Balkan states during the winter. Unless, of course, the war is over by the end of the year. God willing, it will be. I suspect there will be skirmishing in the Alps for some time, however. Hitler and his gang have nothing to lose at this point—they know they're condemned.”

Churchill looked healthy. He was drinking very little (in contrast to King's London visit when Churchill was tight all the time). But Roosevelt looked desperate. His forehead
perspired and his face was flushed, and his leg seemed to have atrophied further. All three men were facing elections, King mused. He wondered if Roosevelt would last that long.

In the dregs of his morning tea Mackenzie King saw what appeared to be a guardian angel with a banner. A sign of something. Also the number thirty seemed to be taking on unusual import. In the House a few days earlier he had stared at the opposition benches to see three occupied seats and one empty (3 and 0). When he glanced at his watch, it was
exactly
three o'clock.

At lunch, King scanned the newspapers for unfavourable cartoons of himself. The newspapers had made sport of his not being included in meetings between Churchill and Roosevelt despite Canada's being the host country. They failed, as always, to see the subtler and more pertinent role, King thought. Churchill didn't entirely trust Roosevelt, and that feeling was mutual. Both distrusted de Gaulle, and had no faith in Stalin whatsoever. And there was something comforting in King, in his neutrality, a neutrality that transcended politics.
I am the facilitator
, King thought,
the translator
.

So the facile cartoons didn't irk. What did was his woeful knowledge of history and events. Foreign issues were bad enough, but his knowledge of Canadian history was impoverished.
I have been too much of a recluse
, he thought,
my mind concerned with lesser things
. Churchill had the world crammed into that head, a brain fuelled by champagne and cigars for weeks on end. But war was the breath of life to him. He knew the details of a hundred wars and was certainly enjoying this one.

King remembered wandering in the rubble of London, the rain-soaked, soot-stained brick lying in heaps. He had had
someone from the Canadian embassy gather stones from the remains of Westminster Hall and had them shipped to Kingsmere, a glorious addition.

He had had a vision the night before of ruins, columns lying broken, but it wasn't London. Perhaps it was Greece. In this vision, his brother, Max, appeared. When he was alive, Max had been a doctor, and his presence usually meant healing. He was always comforted by the appearance of Max, whether in dreams or at his table-rapping sessions. The other figure was disturbing, however. A woman, naked save for a pair of shoes, sitting on a fallen column (Doric, he suspected). She was clearly aggrieved, though showed no sign of any wound. Could this be Velma (or Ann or Dorothy or any of the other prostitutes he had attempted to redeem)? The fallen woman. But what could be the possible significance now? King went back to his vision, trying to recall the detail, which had evaporated so quickly. The columns were Doric, he was sure of it now. His mistake was thinking it was Greece, that it was antiquity. No, this was the Brandenburg Gate. Of course! What had been the gateway to the sanctuary lay in ruins. Berlin was in ruins! But the woman. Was she Germany? One of the few countries that eschewed feminine metaphor.
Die Fatherland
. They would need healing when it was all done; Max was telling him this.

He summoned Laurier in the evening, using the plodding, sometimes infuriating table rapping. He didn't want to chance a medium here at the summit.

—Wilfrid, it seems that we are finally at the very centre of this dreadful business. I'm afraid that Roosevelt may not see the end of it.

I tally blade (?).

—History will miss him.

Histry berry occidents (accidents) vbising (?) to be shut in odder (order).

—The French question plagues me, Wilfrid.

No response was forthcoming, Laurier distracted with something in the spiritual dimension, perhaps. What distractions existed there? Three minutes lumbered by. How did time pass among the infinite? Perhaps King lacked the spiritual connection to summon these people. Sixteen discouraging minutes, then finally, King felt a response.

I pricked everton. (Picked? Plagued? Everyone?)

—Is there no answer?

All rations (nations) are unanswerable questions Mackenzie though bost (most) disguise it fore (more) cleverly that (than) we do.

—My place in history, Wilfrid …

That tactful pause.

Luddy min snoot.

Over and out.

T
here was a disagreeable discussion with Ralston on the issue of conscription. King was loath to send men into battle. Borden had been loath to in the last war, but now they knew the true horror of what had gone on in Europe, and King was even more reluctant. And the natural forces that pulled at the country were aligned on opposite sides of the issue, which made it even more problematic. In Quebec, which had elected him with such emphasis, 73 percent had voted against conscription; in the rest of Canada, 80 percent had voted in favour of it. King's compromise, “Not necessarily conscription, but conscription if necessary,” was inspired, but it would only hold back the waters for so long. He was free to implement
conscription, but there would be both a political and a human cost. With luck the war would end before a decision had to be made.

But Ralston was agitating to send some of those who had been conscripted for home service only, the so-called Zombies. Quebec's premier, the masterful and worrisome Duplessis (King had heard that the man had given appliances to rural Quebecers in return for votes), gave a gallant speech for the sake of Churchill and Roosevelt, extolling the patriotism that soared in the heart of every Quebecer. It was only a few hundred yards from here where Wolfe's men had climbed L'Anse au Foulon and Montcalm had doomed himself, the battle for a continent decided.

Roosevelt was coming out of the sunroom with a cocktail in his hand, pushed by his imposing wife, who King thought looked like a painting of a defective Dutch royal from two centuries ago. A forceful woman, though, and an engaging dinner companion. Roosevelt had his cigarette with that long holder, though King noticed he rarely puffed on it.

“Mackenzie, join us for a drink, won't you.”

“Of course.”

As he toasted FDR's health (barely able to look him in the eye), King thought that it was essentially a religious war between those who denied God's revelation of Himself in Christ and those who accepted it.

T
hey all sat, of course, on the bomb, that secret knowledge. It could prove to be an agent for total destruction. The Bible says we shall have forty years of peace, and then Armageddon. The Russians were working on their own, using research stolen from the Americans. The Germans
hadn't made much progress, it was being reported.
God help us if they do
.