The Ugly American (18 page)

"Mister Ambassador, when I go to a place I make a point of finding out about everyone with whom I have to deal. I ask questions, read their dossiers, and do a thorough investigation. For example, I know that when you were in college you fell in love with and wanted to marry a burlesque girl. Your father threatened to disown you."

"Never mind about me," said Ambassador MacWhite. "Go on with your explanation of the Deputy's black eye."

"Well, the Prime Minister asked me to read his palm. Naturally I was familiar with his background, and I described it to him. Everyone is always amazed if you can tell him intimate details about his youth.

"Then I told His Excellency that he was planning a six-months' trip around the world, and he damned near jumped out of his underwear.

"Of course you haven't heard about it, sir. No one in your embassy knows what the score is until it explodes in his face— if you'll pardon me for being frank. But about a week ago I was passing the Prime Minister's residence and I saw the servants airing the furniture in the back and putting cotton covers on it. All it took was a little discreet questioning to find out that His Excellency was making a trip around the world. Then I found out from the airline when he was going and who would accompany him. This was a closely-guarded secret."

"What did His Excellency say when you told him he was making a trip?"

"He was surprised, and then he asked me why he was making the trip. Well, I know what the political situation is here; and I told him that two men, both old friends of his, were fighting for power under him, and he didn't know which one to pick. So he was delaying the decision by making a trip around the world."

"Then what did he say?"

"He walked up and down the room for a few minutes, sweating like a Westerner, and then he asked me what the men's names were. I told him I couldn't tell that from his hand, and that I was too new here in Sarkhan to be familiar with officials' names. But I could describe the men from looking at his palm. And I did. I told him one was small, emaciated, and had liver trouble. The other was big and red-faced.

"He paced and sweat some more; then he sat down with a groan and asked me which of the two he should have killed." Ambassador MacWhite jumped up "My God, you were speaking of General Saugh and General Bhakal."

"Yes, sir."

"What did you tell him?"

"I didn't know what our policy was, so I advised him that it would be a mistake to kill either; and that a man who was as devout a Buddhist as he is shouldn't even have asked the question. I further suggested that a smarter thing to do would be to send
them
out of the country for about six months instead of his going."

"You did! My God, they announced not an hour ago that Saugh is going to America as Special Ambassador Plenipotentiary, and that Bhakal is going to Russia with the same title. They're leaving next week."

"Well," Colonel Hillandale continued, "before the dinner party broke up the Prime Minister and the Foreign Minister came up and asked me if I would read the King's palm and cast his horoscope. I told them that it would be the greatest honor of my life, and so on, and I would show up day or night at His Majesty's pleasure.

"You see, sir," said Colonel Hillandale, beginning to get somewhat excited, "the Chinese Communist Armies have been mobilizing near the northern border. I knew that if I could once get to the King, I could tell him that the stars ordered that he send the Royal Sarkhanese Army up north for maneuvers. If this were done the Communists would interpret the move as a clear indication that Sarkhan was definitely pro-American and anti-Communist. It would have been a defeat for the Commies and would have been a great propaganda victory for us throughout all Asia. And, sir, I am positive that the King would have done what the stars ordered him to."

"What happened?" MacWhite asked.

"As we were leaving the Philippine Embassy Residence, the Prime Minister called George Swift over. 'Mister Ambassador,' he said, 'my friend here is going to read the palm of His Majesty the King. But in Sarkhan we do these things with very strict protocol. It must be on a government to government level. You, Mister Ambassador, must personally telephone the Sarkhanese Minister of Protocol, that's Prince Moyang here, and tell him that Colonel Hillandale accepts the honor of His Majesty's invitation to cast his horoscope and read his palm.'

" 'I understand. I understand these things perfectly, sir,' George answered.

" 'Now,' said the Prime Minister, 'when you have rung Prince Moyang, he will tell you exactly the time and the place, and the costume, and all of the details which the Colonel should know before going to the Royal Palace.'

" 'I understand completely,' George said. 'I will personally telephone Prince Moyang at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, if that's a time which is convenient for him.'

" 'That will be fine for me,' said Prince Moyang, 'I'll be expecting your call at nine o'clock.'

"This was the climax of the party. It broke up just after that.

"As we were leaving, Swift turned to me and said, 'Now look, you stay in your room tomorrow morning. The minute I make that call, I'll let you know. I want to discuss it with the staff before I let you have the details of it. So you wait in your room, and I'll ring you a little after nine o'clock.'

" 'Yes, sir,' I said, and shoved off.

"I went home feeling fine. I thought I really had the situation under control. I had of course prepared horoscopes of all the big shots in Sarkhan ahead of time—the King's included. And I visualized the whole thing while I undressed and turned in.

"I knew I might have to go to the Palace and work the old boy over two or three different times. In the first reading I planned to tell him about his past personal life. I knew a great story about how he had tried to seduce the niece of the King of Siam in 1928 and had damn near started a war. I got it from the caretaker. This first session would give me an opportunity to know the king and estimate his personality and reactions. It's very important for a palmist or an astrologist to know his man inside out.

"Later, I planned to get gradually into the military and political situation, and to bring it up in such a way that the king would ask me what should be done about this critical situation; or, at least, what the stars say should be done? If everything went really smoothly, I felt I might be able to polish off this job on the first visit to the palace.

"Well, next morning I was up early because I was excited and I wanted to be entirely ready. I had all kinds of clothes laid out, just in case I had to rush to the palace about ten minutes after nine. I didn't even go to breakfast because I was scared I might miss Swift's phone call. All I had was two bottles of warm beer and a tin of salami from my emergency rations. I went nuts waiting for the phone to ring. But at ten minutes after nine nobody called me. By ten o'clock nobody had called. So I had two more bottles of beer. By eleven o'clock nobody had called, so I knew damned well that something had gotten fouled up. I couldn't stand it any longer, and I borrowed the dispatcher's motorcycle and went over to the embassy to George Swift's office.

"He wasn't in, but his secretary, a popeyed girl named Macintosh, looked at me, and said, 'Oh, Colonel Hillandale, we've been looking all over for you for the past hour.'

"I told her I'd been in my room, exactly as instructed, all morning, biting my fingernails up to the elbow.

" 'Gracious,' said Miss Popeyes. 'And I've rung every place in town except your room.'

" 'Did Mr. Swift get the call through to Prince Moyang?'

" 'Oh,' said Popeyes, 'Mr. Swift had to go to the commissary with Mrs. Swift because the Undersecretary of State is expected here at noontime and they had run out of liquor and they're giving this party for him tonight and Mr. Swift felt that he personally ought to go down to help with the shopping because the liquor store normally isn't open today.'

" 'He didn't ring Prince Moyang at nine?'

" 'No sir; but he telephoned me from the commissary and told me to call Prince Moyang.'

" 'Did you call him?'

" 'Yes sir, I called him about ten minutes after ten.'

" 'What did the Prince say?'

" 'Well, it was a little confusing, sir, you see, I didn't quite understand from Mr. Swift what this was all about, so when I got Prince Moyang on the telephone I told him that you, Colonel Hillandale, would be delighted to attend His Majesty's reception for the Undersecretary.'

" 'What did Prince Moyang say?'

" 'Well, he asked me, who is it that's speaking.'

" 'And?'

" 'And I told him I was Mr. Swift's secretary.'

" 'And then what did the prince say?'

" 'Oh,' said Popeyes, 'he acted so strange, he didn't say anything, he just hung up on me.'

"Well, I knew that we had insulted the Sarkhanese pretty badly. Not only had we not used our key—but we'd thrown a barricade over the front door. I thought maybe I could fix things up, so I rushed over to Prince Moyang's office to call on him personally to apologize. But the Prince's secretary politely informed me that Prince Moyang was out of town.

"That afternoon I met George Swift and before I could start to blow my stack he apologized for having neglected to call Prince Moyang at nine. 'You know how it is,' he said, 'The Undersecretary of State is arriving and after all he's really here to inspect us. I had to make sure we were ready for him.'

'Oh,' he added, 'by the way, we're really lucky that I went down there,' he said. 'You know I've just gotten phone calls from the Prime Minister and the Foreign Minister and Prince Moyang and they all ate something that didn't agree with them and they're all indisposed. None of them will be able to come to the party for the Undersecretary. So, Colonel, you can see how it would have looked with none of them there, and no gin either, so don't stay mad at me.'

" 'But, my God,' I said, 'I told you last night about my plan to get the king to move his troops up north for maneuvers.'

" 'Oh come on, Colonel,' Swift said. 'Those little vaudeville tricks are okay to liven up a dull dinner party, but when you get into big time diplomacy. . .

"And it was at that moment," said the colonel, "that I busted the charge in the eye."

Captain Boning, USN

Solomon Asch sat at the head of the conference table. He was calm and relaxed. Now was not the time for toughness. He knew from long experience that strangers around a table always do some initial sparring before getting down to business. Outside, the noises of Hong Kong rose in the air; Asch had been in the Crown colony only a few weeks; and he found the sounds fascinating.

Asch knew he was both tough and competent. He had a veneer of manners and politeness, but it was very thin. Just beneath it was the knowing Jew who had survived youth on the East Side of New York City. He worked as a union negotiator; and his toughness and honesty had carried him to the top of his profession. He had been pleased when the President of the United States had asked him to serve in the government for six months as head of the American Delegation to the Special Armament section of the Asia Conference.

Asch swung around in his chair and looked over the group of Americans who would make up his staff. He considered those he could count on and those he could ignore. MacWhite, the Ambassador from Sarkhan, was all right. Anderson, the Special Political Officer for Southeastern Pacific Affairs, was not worth a damn. Asch had once asked him how many Communists there were in the Hong Kong trade unions, and the stupid jerk didn't know. Dooling was useful in spots only. He was a career ambassador, afraid to send tough reports to Washington, very solicitous of superior officers; but he had information. Asch would use the information, but he would not allow Dooling to do any hard bargaining.

The rest of the Americans in the room were just average. Asch hadn't had a chance really to size up the Navy Captain. Boning was a small man, and Asch had noted that he wore shoes with elevated heels which increased his height. Sometimes, Asch thought to himself, a good little man can be effective.

"All right, gentlemen, the meeting will please come to order," Asch said. "You all know why we're here. We make up the American Delegation to the conference which will determine what kind of weapons if any the United States will distribute among its allies in Asia. I don't need to tell you the importance of this matter. Nor do I need to tell you the difficulties we are going to have. The Indian, Burmese, and Thai representatives to this meeting are probably going to oppose any installation of special weapons on their soil. Maybe they're right; but our government doesn't think so. Right now we don't have the legislation in Congress to allow us to share our information with our friends; but I'd guess we'll have it awfully damn soon."

Asch grinned. They knew what he meant. Recent developments had made America realize that she had to share knowledge and armaments with her allies.

"Now, gentlemen, you have already read in classified documents the official United States position," Asch went on briskly. "I won't take much more of your time this morning. What I want you to understand clearly is how I run a meeting. First, keep in mind that I am the leader of this delegation. If you have any doubts about statements that I make, raise them with me in private, but not in meetings. I never say anything without a reason. Sometimes it may sound crazy, but don't call me on it. Secondly, gentlemen, take a look at the program brochure of this meeting."

The men around the table all picked up the heavily embossed brochures which covered the three-week program of the meetings, and thumbed through them idly.

"Please note that every afternoon there are two or three cocktail parties, and every night there is a formal dinner," Asch said. His face tightened into a wry grin. "I want none of you to go to any of the cocktail parties. And I want you to go to only two formal dinners a week. I will write blanket notes of regret. We will all go to the last dinner, because then the work will be over."

"Mr. Asch, I wonder if that would be wise," Ambassador Dooling said. His voice was anxious. "Asians are awfully sensitive about such things. They might feel snubbed."

"Also, Mr. Asch, I don't think we should overlook the possibility of picking up stray bits of intelligence at such functions," Anderson, the political officer, said.

"Nuts," Asch replied firmly. "Let's keep our mind on what comes first here. The Asians will respect us if we drive a hard and fair bargain with them at the conference table. That will call for every ounce of energy we have. Success at a conference table is always a delicately balanced affair. If a couple of you have hangovers, or someone misses a cue, we can lose a little part of our deal. If it happens several times, we can lose the whole deal. And let me tell you frankly, Mr. Dooling, that although I'm new out here I think the prestige of Americans might go up if they stayed away from a few more cocktail parties."

Asch swung his head slightly to look at Anderson. Anderson had already slumped back in his chair. He had never heard a diplomat use such direct language, and he was offended.

"Now, Mr. Anderson, about that intelligence at cocktail parties," Asch said. "Let's not try to play Mata Hari on any conference I'm running. I've been to a hell of a lot of meetings in my day, and I've never yet seen a foreigner give away a valuable piece of information at a cocktail party."

Asch looked around the table and nodded his head as a signal that the meeting was over. He knew precisely how his words had affected each man. Ambassador MacWhite and Captain Boning were the only ones who approved completely. The rest were offended in varying degrees. Dooling would write a sly and acid report to Washington, but Asch was not bothered about that.

As the men got up to leave the room, Asch called in a sharp voice, "Captain Boning, I'd like to see you for a moment."

Captain Boning turned around and came back. Asch noticed that he had a lean compact body, and guessed that he was a man to whom physical fitness was important.

"Yes, sir?" Captain Boning said.

"Boning, I might just as well tell you right now that you're going to be an important man in these negotiations. You're the only one here who really understands the technical use of special weapons, and the rest of us will have to depend on your knowledge. When I call on you to comment, answer exactly the question that I put to you. Nothing more and nothing less, understand?"

"Yes, sir. What if the information you want is classified?"

"Good point. Just say it's classified; but give whatever part of it you can that's been declassified. And don't apologize for the classification. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Captain Boning said. Knowing that Asch was through, he wheeled and left the room.

The general meetings began the next morning in a huge ornate room which had been built when England's power was at its height in Hong Kong. Over a hundred men sat down. Large, old-fashioned fans turned slowly above them. In a room next to the conference room a battery of translators spoke into microphones. Each delegate had an earphone with a small dial which allowed him to listen to the speech translated into French, English, or his native Asian language. The fact that every representative could listen to the speaker in his own native language had been Asch's idea. He had insisted to the secretariat of the meeting that there was no reason why Asians had to hear everything in French and English, and said the United States would be willing to pay for extra interpreters and translators so that every delegate could hear every speech in his own language.

The meeting opened slowly with a long reading of the minutes of previous meetings, then came the inevitable debate over these minutes, and a complicated and delicate discussion on where the next meeting should be held. Asch wanted the meeting held in India, for the simple reason that the Indian representatives were the most hesitant about using the new weapons. Asch felt further that if the next meeting were held in India it would force the Indians to face the problem of the use of atomic weapons squarely. He also knew that the Indians would resist playing host to a conference on a ground which they would never make public. Asch had heard, via the bamboo telegraph, that they were reluctant to appropriate money for it.

When the debate on the location of the next conference had gone on for six hours and seemed no closer to a solution, Asch made his move. He scribbled a note to the chief Indian representative indicating that the American government would be willing, on a confidential basis, to supply the funds necessary to host the next meeting adequately. After that the problem was quickly solved.

The next day they got down to business, and Asch was satisfied. They moved slowly, but they moved steadily. Asch directed almost all political questions to Ambassador MacWhite, and tossed all the technical military questions to Captain Boning. They both handled them well. They answered firmly and directly, and without any air of condescension.

Asch knew that this irritated both the French and English representatives. They had never gotten used to the idea of talking frankly about arms and military strategy to Asians. And they were also somewhat condescending to the elaborately uniformed admirals and generals of the Asian countries. That evening both representatives called on Asch at his hotel.

"Mr. Asch," the English chief said, "my colleague and I are somewhat disturbed at the direction the meetings are taking." He was a small bird-like man, who had an enormous historical knowledge of Asia which would have been useful in the nineteenth century, but was now almost valueless. "These people have just recently acquired national status, and they're not used to talking about such intricate problems as armament except as it concerns them locally. We feel that the best strategy to take would be for the United States to place a minimum demand before the group; our two nations would then support it, and we would get their reactions."

"Gentlemen," said Asch, "I will concede that you have been at this type of thing longer than we. You also have much more experience with Asians." The two gentlemen nodded modestly. "And you've managed to bitch the whole thing up for the last couple of generations. No one from my delegation is going to lay down minimum standards. If these people take atomic weapons, they may have to suffer the consequences some day. They're big boys now, and they should know what they're getting into. And don't kid yourself, gentlemen; unless you
feel
they're equals and act on that feeling, they'll never respond. I've seen it happen too many times. Make someone feel inferior in a negotiating situation, and he'll be the toughest guy around the table. Gentlemen, that is where I stand, and that is the way I will run my delegation." The two diplomats left without pursuing the subject further. Just two more reports sent to Washington giving me hell, Asch thought to himself. The hell with it. We're making good headway.

Then, in the middle of the second week, things began to bog down. Asch, sensitive to the moods of meetings, realized that in some way the Asian delegates were being irritated, and they were balking. It was not till the end of the second week that Asch put his finger on the trouble.

It was Boning. His mistakes were only two, and they were small. First, he occasionally dozed at the conference table after lunch. Secondly, he was apt to hesitate a moment before answering questions; giving the impression that he was holding back information or rephrasing it. These were small things, and few men at the conference would have been able to spot them. But they were offensive to the participants. As the Friday afternoon meeting ended, and they adjourned for the weekend, Asch walked out beside Boning. He looked straight ahead as he spoke, but his voice was unequivocal.

"Boning, you'd better get more sleep. You're dozing a bit after lunch. Also, I want you to speak right up when I give you the questions. This hesitating puts people's teeth on edge."

"Mr. Asch, a lot of these technical questions on armament are difficult," .Captain Boning answered. "It's not easy to remember all the material and separate out what's classified and what's public."

"Well, if you can't do it, we'll get someone else out here who can," Asch said. "You did all right the first week and your memory seemed okay. What the hell happened this week?"

"Nothing. It's just that I want to be perfectly accurate in what I say," Captain Boning said.

"You sure you're not living it up at night?" Asch asked. He had seen it happen dozens of times before. A man would start fresh and sharp; but then he'd try to ease the tension by drinking and helling around at night, and his performance would get worse and worse.

"No, sir. I am not living it up," Captain Boning said, and his voice was sharp and reproving.

Captain Boning's answer was not entirely true. It was true that he was not drinking, nor was he living a fast life. But, it a special sense, he
was
"living it up."

It had all started with Anderson, the political expert from the State Department. Anderson knew almost everyone in Hong Kong who had a high position in diplomacy or politics. One day he had introduced Boning to a Chinese woman, Doctor Ruby Tsung. She was a professor at Hong Kong University, and had been educated in the United States. Anderson did not know that Doctor Tsung had also been educated at a special school located in the outskirts of Moscow.

Anderson had suggested that Doctor Tsung might guide Boning around Hong Kong and help him purchase gifts to take back to the States. Also, he added, Doctor Tsung could fill him in on local background and color. Remembering Asch's warning, Boning had been somewhat hesitant; but the moment he met Doctor Tsung his doubts vanished.

Doctor Tsung looked like an oriental miniature of an English country squire's wife. She wore rough English tweeds made up into extremely conservative suits. She wore heavy lisle stockings and hand-made English shoes with low heels designed for nothing but walking. Her thick, gold-framed glasses gave her the look of a scholar. Her language was crisp, efficient, and direct. She was the kind of woman a man could spend time with and not feel disloyal to his job or his family.