During the meal, the talk ranged from Roosevelt's chitchat about Hyde Park-he told his guests he hoped to raise Christmas trees for market-to j.a.pan. Roosevelt also indicated, Cadogan said, that he "might be prepared to make a joint Anglo-American Declaration of Principles."

When dessert was cleared and Churchill prepared to speak, Elliott Roosevelt noticed something different about his father. "At dinner, and afterwards, too, as the evening wore on toward midnight, I saw Father in a new role," he wrote. "My experience of him in the past had been that he dominated every gathering he was part of; not because he insisted on it so much as that it always seemed his natural due." But for once Roosevelt ceded center stage to someone else. "Tonight," Elliott said, "Father listened."

Churchill was worth listening to. "His conversation was like that of Macaulay or Lord Curzon: it erred no doubt on the side of copious monologue," Lord Chandos recalled. "When the sails started to draw, the great ship, with every st.i.tch of canvas set, heeled over to the wind and ploughed through the waves: the rigging sang and the spray broke unheeded over the prow. The listener had the vivid impression that he was living at a time of great human struggle or, to change the image, stood upon some battlefield at a turning point in history." On Churchill sailed, telling the tale of the war he had first spun for Hopkins in the winter. Cadogan was arch about Churchill's monologue-"not his best," was the verdict-but even lukewarm, Churchill was powerful.

"Churchill told us, in effect, that this was a mechanized war, not a war of 191718 where doughboys in the mud and trenches fought it out to a conclusion," recalled U.S. Army Air Forces General H. H. "Hap" Arnold. "This was a mobile war, in the air, on the land, and at sea. It was a scientific war where mechanized equipment was used to an extent never dreamed of before."

As Churchill spoke, he was articulating a strategy that held political appeal for Roosevelt, who was still struggling at home with the idea of sending another army across the sea. If the Americans could protect the lines of supply in the North Atlantic and, Arnold recalled, "give Britain material aid in personnel, ships, tanks, and antiaircraft," Churchill had a sense of what he would do to take the war to the Axis. "He said the British needed bombers to bring home to the Germans the horrors of war, just as the Germans had brought it home to the British," Arnold recalled. Churchill would go on the offensive. "He pointed out that British policies from now on would be to attack the Germans at all points; that in the areas where the Germans had long-extended lines of communication the British would meet them on even terms. By constant hammering, it was possible to prevent the German army from spreading out any further, and the British attacks should ultimately aid in breaking Germany's morale."

Roosevelt was impressed, telling Daisy the evening was "very grand. . . . A very good party & the 'opposite numbers' are getting to know each other."

Roosevelt and Churchill parted until morning.

"WE HAVE A grand day for a church parade, and I have chosen some grand hymns," Churchill said to H. V. Morton early the next day.

"The PM had given much thought to the preparations for this Service (which he said should be fully choral and fully photographic), choosing the hymns . . . and vetting the prayers (which I had to read to him while he dried after his bath)," recalled John Martin. Roosevelt and Churchill would sit; their top officers and advisers, including Hopkins, would stand behind them. From a lectern decorated with the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes, the chaplains would read the prayers. Nervously awaiting Roosevelt, "Mr. Churchill walked about inspecting every detail," Morton wrote, "often taking a hand by moving a chair an inch one way or another and by pulling out the folds of the Union Jack."

Roosevelt was thinking of his own performance. A memorandum written for Commander Thompson by John Beardall, Roosevelt's naval aide, reveals the care with which the presidential staff antic.i.p.ated Roosevelt's every move. Every modern White House is fussy about "advance," but Roosevelt's paralysis added a poignant element of urgency to the planning. A tumble would not be fatal (unless, bizarrely, Roosevelt were to fall into the sea, where his braces might pull him under too quickly to be rescued), but one would be gravely embarra.s.sing, particularly on an occasion of state like this one. "The President will embark in U.S.S. McDOUGAL at 1030," Beardall wrote. "McDOUGAL will proceed alongside H.M.S. PRINCE OF WALES, bow to stern, McDOUGAL starboard side to starboard side with PRINCE OF WALES. Using PRINCE OF WALES crane, brow will be swung from McDOUGAL to PRINCE OF WALES, and the President will proceed on board."

Thinking past the service, Beardall wrote: "After the pictures have been taken, the President will inspect the top side in his wheelchair, and I understand ramps will be provided to facilitate this." Then a point put briefly but unmistakably: "For your information, the President is never photographed when walking, or in his wheelchair. However, it is perfectly all right to take pictures when he is standing still or sitting in a large chair." Appearances were important, and the actor in Roosevelt knew how to manage his audience.

ROOSEVELT'S SHIP CAME alongside. Roosevelt clutched Elliott's arm and, with his other hand on the rail of the gangway, walked painful step by painful step toward a waiting Churchill. He was determined not to use his chair as he called on Churchill and the men of the Prince of Wales. As soon as he reached the deck, the Royal Marines played the national anthem, and Roosevelt caught his breath. He tried, as always, to conceal the effort walking took, and it worked. Tommy Thompson noticed that "only the tenseness of his grip on the rail betrayed the strain he was undergoing." Morton thought he saw a "calm, carved face, the face of a St. George who has trampled the dragon under him."

Roosevelt then turned to the next steps of his journey-from the rail to his designated seat on the quarterdeck. Summoning his strength, Roosevelt, Churchill by his side, forced himself toward his chair near the lectern. There would have been a slight thud against the deck as Roosevelt, still balanced by Elliott, willed his paralyzed legs forward, his cane in his other hand. Sensitive to his guest's affliction, Churchill realized that "every step" was "causing him pain." "I shall always remember the look on his face," recalled Howard Spring, another of Brendan Bracken's writers. "Every muscle seemed to express his determination to complete that short walk on his own, and when he reached his chair he beamed with triumph." Roosevelt would tell Daisy with pride that he had been "received with 'honors,' inspected the guard & walked aft to the quarter deck." Walked was an important word to him. He trusted Daisy so much that, in more deprecating and darker moments, he referred to his efforts at moving without a wheelchair as "stumping." But not today: Today, he thought he had walked, and that pleased him. He had risen to the occasion.

TOGETHER, ROOSEVELT AND Churchill sat down, and the company sang the first hymn.

O G.o.d, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home. . . .

As Churchill had hoped, the Americans and the British were, as he later wrote, "completely intermingled" as they sang. "Every word seemed to stir the heart."

The service-a moved Roosevelt called it the "keynote" of his meeting with Churchill-was working a kind of magic, which is one of the points of liturgy and theater: to use the dramatic to convince people of a reality they cannot see. "In the long, frightful panorama of this war, a panorama full of guns and tanks crushing the life out of men, of women and children weeping and of homes blasted into rubble by bombs," Morton wrote, "there had been no scene like this, a scene, it seemed, from another world, conceived on lines different from anything known to the pageant-masters of the Axis, a scene rooted in the first principles of European civilization which go back to the figure of Charlemagne kneeling before the Pope on Christmas morning."

The chaplains led the reading of the General Confession and of the Lord's Prayer, words that in believers often trigger memories of where they first learned them and have most frequently repeated them. Churchill could have thought of Harrow. Roosevelt's mind may have roamed back to St. James's in Hyde Park or to the chapel at Groton where Dr. Peabody read the rite-images of a world, Roosevelt's world, that he would most want to protect from harm.

The second hymn began.

Onward, Christian soldiers, Marching as to war, With the cross of Jesus Going on before!

Christ, the Royal Master, Leads against the foe; Forward into battle, See, his banners go. . . .

Churchill was weeping and took a handkerchief from his pocket. There was a reading from the Book of Joshua. A few of the verses that rang out across the deck: ". . . as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee: I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. Be strong and of good courage: for unto this people shalt thou divide for an inheritance the land, which I swore unto their fathers to give them. . . . Have I not commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid: for the Lord thy G.o.d is with thee whithersoever thou goest." More prayers followed, including this one: "Stablish our hearts, O G.o.d, in the day of battle, and strengthen our resolve, that we fight, not in enmity against men, but against the powers of darkness enslaving the souls of men; till all enmity and oppression be done away, and the peoples of the world be set free from fear to serve one another; as children of our Father, who above all and through all and in all, our G.o.d for ever and ever. Amen." A final hymn closed the service.

Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave, Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep Its own appointed limits keep: O hear us when we cry to Thee For those in peril on the sea. . . .

"It was," Churchill said, "a great hour to live." To Elliott, the president said afterward: "If nothing else had happened while we were here, that would have cemented us. 'Onward, Christian Soldiers.' We are, and we will go on, with G.o.d's help." It had been worth the walk.

AS CAMERAS CLICKED, Roosevelt and Churchill smoked and indulged the ships' companies in posing for snapshots. "We were all photographed," Roosevelt told Daisy, "front, sides & rear!" Churchill was thrilled with the service. "When I looked upon that densely-packed congregation of fighting men of the same language, of the same faith, of the same fundamental laws and the same ideals, and now to a large extent of the same interests, and certainly in different degrees facing the same dangers," he said, "it swept across me that here was the only hope, but also the sure hope, of saving the world from measureless degradation."

Having proved his mettle before the service, Roosevelt shifted to his wheelchair for a tour of the ship; afterward they lunched, and Churchill made sure the menu included grouse, a treat for the game-loving Roosevelt. It was, Roosevelt told Daisy, a "beautiful" luncheon. Churchill had done well.

Roosevelt continued to impress the British. Cadogan found Roosevelt's informal conversational style "awfully good-just like his fireside chats."

"There seemed to be real friendship & understanding between F.D.R. and Churchill"

Roosevelt with his distant cousin Margaret "Daisy" Suckley, who was frequently at the president's side during the war years As Churchill saw Roosevelt off, the ship's cat, Blackie, tried to follow the Americans back to the Augusta. Churchill scooped the cat up and saluted the departing Roosevelt. One of the officers who had enjoyed the grouse and good talk thanked Churchill.

"It's an honor for us all," Churchill replied. "And great things may come of it in the future. You have seen a great man this day." Yet he appeared to be churning inside as he tried to reconcile the goodwill of the time he was spending with Roosevelt with his feeling that the Americans might not take the plunge into war. "On this lovely day, the sun shining as it is on this beautiful harbor, surrounded as we are by American men of war," Churchill said to the officers, "it is difficult for you and me to realize that we are fighting for our very lives."

Then he was gone.

CHURCHILL FOUND HIMSELF restless. Trying to put his anxiety out of his mind, he went ash.o.r.e in a whaler. "P.M. like a schoolboy and insisted on rolling boulders down a cliff," said Cadogan. The adventure was diverting, and Churchill snapped out of his worried humor. "A great load seemed to have been lifted off his mind," Inspector Thompson said.

That evening, Roosevelt told Daisy, was set aside for "dining Winston Churchill, his civilian aides & mine." There was a shift in tone from the previous night, probably the result of the fact that the two leaders were growing more comfortable with each other as they pa.s.sed their fourth meal together. "You sensed that two men accustomed to leadership had sparred, had felt each other out, and were now readying themselves for outright challenge, each of the other," Elliott remembered. The future of the British empire came up.

The two disagreed, and would for the rest of the war, about colonialism. Roosevelt was a Wilsonian on the issue, believing, as had the president he had once served, in self-determination. Moreover, the progressive in Roosevelt wanted to ameliorate the conditions under which many colonial peoples lived. Churchill, of course, was to promise not to preside "over the liquidation of the British Empire," setting the stage for a long-running source of tension between the two men.

After dinner, Churchill introduced Inspector Thompson to Roosevelt. "Look after the Prime Minister," Roosevelt told Thompson. "He is one of the greatest men in the world."

Franklin Jr. accompanied Churchill back to the Prince of Wales. "Your father is a great man," Churchill said. "He has accomplished much. I am glad that our meeting has resulted in such understanding."

"My father," said FDR Jr., "is a very religious man, and has risen to great heights by his strength of character and determination."

"Your father is one of the greatest men of our day," Churchill said.

"Father was talking to me of you, and he said that Churchill-"

"No, no-Winston," Churchill interjected.

"-is the greatest statesman the world has ever known. I told my father, 'No, you and Mr. Churchill are the greatest men of the age, and together you can bring peace to the world.' " Even allowing for a son's affection and Churchill's hyperbole, the conversation is revealing in that it captures the warmth of the conversations at sea.

HOW DID CHURCHILL and Roosevelt see the possibilities for friendship? Churchill's vision was predictably grand. "I think of it in this way," Churchill had written of the idea of alliance in Savrola. "When the human race was emerging from the darkness of its origin and half-animal, half-human creatures trod the earth, there was no idea of justice, honesty, or virtue, only the motive power which we may call the 'will to live.' Then perhaps it was a minor peculiarity of some of these early ancestors of man to combine in twos and threes for their mutual protection. The first alliance was made; the combinations prospered where the isolated individuals failed. . . . Thus man became a social animal. Gradually the little societies became larger ones. From families to tribes, and from tribes to nations the species advanced, always finding that the better they combined, the better they succeeded. Now on what did this system of alliance depend? It depended on the members keeping faith with each other, on the practice of honesty, justice, and the rest of the virtues. Only those beings in whom such faculties were present were able to combine, and thus only the relatively honest men were preserved. The process repeated itself countless times during untold ages. At every step the race advanced, and at every step the realisation of the cause increased." Making friends now, at sea, with this American, would do something similar.

"Friendship among nations, as among individuals, calls for constructive efforts to muster the forces of humanity in order that an atmosphere of close understanding and cooperation may be cultivated," Roosevelt once said. Sizing up Churchill, Roosevelt saw him as a friend in this light: He too wanted close understanding for public purposes.

THE AMERICANS AGREED to join the British in warning the j.a.panese against further aggression. In July, Tokyo had moved on French Indochina-the next generation would know part of the region as Vietnam-continuing its imperial push in the Pacific; Roosevelt had struck back by freezing j.a.pan's a.s.sets in America. British holdings in the Pacific were in danger, but few could have guessed how far east-and against whom-Tokyo would strike in a few months' time.

Churchill also won approval of "Western Hemisphere Defence Plan No. 4." The language of Churchill's report to the war cabinet was dry, but the meaning important. "At an early date (it is hoped by the 1st September) the United States Navy will take over the responsibility of our North Atlantic Convoys to the West of 26 West"-Iceland, which meant America was projecting power farther east to secure Britain and her supply lines. "They are sending us immediately 130,000 more rifles," Churchill informed London, "and I look for improved allocations of heavy bombers and tanks." Roosevelt told Churchill he would ask for another $5 billion in Lend-Lease aid, and together they sent Stalin a message that foreshadowed years of debates over financial and military aid to the Soviets. "The war goes on upon many fronts, and before it is over there may be yet further fighting fronts that will be developed," Roosevelt and Churchill wrote Stalin on August 12. "Our resources, though immense, are limited, and it must become question as to where and when those resources can best be used to further to the greatest extent our common effort."

The most enduring piece of official conference business was the Atlantic Charter, a doc.u.ment of war and peace aims that included calls for self-determination and free trade. The British were more interested in a declaration of war and were nervous about the charter's possible implications for the empire and its system of protected trade, but Churchill thought it wise at this point to bow to Roosevelt's wishes. "I fear the President will be very much upset if no Joint Statement can be issued," Churchill told London, "and grave and vital interests might be affected." In other words, give the man what he wants now in hopes that we will get what we want later.

Roosevelt told Daisy he thought their final evening "delightful. . . . We talked about everything except the war! & Churchill said it was the nicest evening he had had! . . . How easy it is really to do big things if you can get an hour off!" The pleasure of being together was intoxicating for both. On a human level, it is easier to accede and more difficult to disagree when people are in one another's company. "The various officers came after dinner & we are satisfied that they understand each other & that any future needs or conversations will meet with less crossed wires," Roosevelt wrote Daisy.

They left Newfoundland with the kind of mutual fondness that often springs up in foxholes or among travelers or colleagues who share common goals and face the same stresses. Many friendships are precisely that-formed on the fly, pitched and fulfilling for a time, some to be sustained in the face of pa.s.sing years and changed circ.u.mstances, some not. Such relationships can be transitory, but few people who are in the midst of one feel less intensely or less genuinely fond of another even if the friendship fades in the future.

Roosevelt and Churchill were now at the beginning of this emotional journey. The leave-taking, Roosevelt told Daisy, was "a very moving scene" as Churchill and his officers "received full honors going over the side."

IN A BROADCAST to his people on August 24, 1941, Churchill invested the session with Roosevelt at Newfoundland with rhetorical splendor. "It symbolizes in a form and manner which everyone can understand in every land and every clime, the deep underlying unities which stir and at decisive moments rule the English-speaking peoples throughout the world," the prime minister said. "Would it be presumptuous of me to say that it symbolizes something even more majestic-namely: the marshaling of the good forces of the world against the evil forces which are now so formidable and triumphant and which have cast their cruel spell over the whole of Europe and a large part of Asia?"

The way Roosevelt was acting, Churchill could indeed be seen as "presumptuous," or at least overly optimistic. America was not at war. John Martin told Jock Colville that he had heard Roosevelt say, "I do not intend to declare war; I intend to wage it"-heartening words in the dramatic setting at Newfoundland, but ones that gave Roosevelt maximum flexibility, leaving Churchill to wonder what they meant in practice. In a letter to his son, Randolph, Churchill was honest about the meeting's mixed results. "The President for all his warm heart and good intentions, is thought by many of his admirers to move with public opinion rather than to lead and form it," he wrote.

Beginning what would become a pattern, at least one of the princ.i.p.als-this time Churchill, who came down with a bad cold-got sick in the aftermath of a meeting. Roosevelt, too, had difficulty decompressing. "All well & a bit of a let-down!" he wrote Daisy as the Augusta pa.s.sed Nova Scotia en route home. "But the afterthoughts are good & we hope the country will approve." Tired, Roosevelt took advantage of smooth seas and slept twelve hours at a stretch.

ROOSEVELT'S "AFTERTHOUGHTS" may have been good, but while the two had been at sea, only a single vote in the House of Representatives had guaranteed an extension of the American military draft. In his first press conference back aboard the Potomac just after three in the afternoon of August 16 at Rockland, Maine, Roosevelt sent conflicting signals about the significance of the meeting.

"I think the first thing in the minds of all of us was a very remarkable religious service on the quarter deck of the Prince of Wales last Sunday morning," Roosevelt told "the boys" who had gathered on the yacht. "I think everybody there, officers and enlisted men, felt that it was one of the great historic services. I know I did." He and Churchill, Roosevelt added, had spoken of "what is happening to the world under the n.a.z.i regime, as applied to other nations. The more that is discussed and looked into, the more terrible the thought becomes of having the world as a whole dominated by the kind of influences which have been at work in the occupied or affiliated nations. It's a thing that needs to be brought home to all of the Democracies, more and more."

Music to Churchill's ears-but then Roosevelt shifted to a different note. Had the two leaders, a reporter asked, discussed how to actually implement the provisions of the Atlantic Charter?

"Interchange of views, that's all. Nothing else."

Was America closer to war?

"I should say, no," Roosevelt replied.

Back in Washington, however, he gave his cabinet a bullish fill on the meeting. "When Roosevelt returned, he liked Churchill very much and was enthusiastic about him," Frances Perkins recalled. Roosevelt had apparently decided that the preBattle of Britain view of Churchill was outdated. "His mind is better than it was," Roosevelt said of Churchill. "His mind is improving. I'm sure that he's got a greater mind than he had twenty years ago. He's got a more developed mind."

Perkins, a longtime student of both men, was interested to hear this. "I realized that Churchill's spell was still good," she later said. "When he was a young man, Churchill could cast a spell over people. You've no idea what a persuasive person he is, or how polite, how very cordial and considerate he can be when he wants to. He has a most winning way of winning people's affection and confidence. . . . I remember being very, very glad that the President had liked Churchill and feeling that it was much safer for this country, as well as for the world, if President Roosevelt liked and was able to make rapprochement with Churchill, able to believe him, able to take some leadership from him."

But Perkins knew Roosevelt did not like following anyone, except for the broad American public. "That seems a queer thing to say and to feel," she admitted of her view that Roosevelt could learn from Churchill, "but actually Churchill had much more life experience of war, rumors of war, making war, making peace, keeping the world on an even keel than anybody in the USA did, including Franklin D. Roosevelt. . . . Churchill is the kind of man that people can be off of. Franklin Roosevelt had elements within his own nature that made it possible for him to get off, entirely off, the hooks with certain people, no matter how good they were . . . ," Perkins said. "Anyhow, I thought that the whole relationship with Churchill was very, very lucky."

Churchill's confidence had charmed Roosevelt. "You talked with Churchill and you understood the stubborn fight they were putting up and would continue to put up," Roosevelt told the cabinet. On August 19, in a late afternoon chat with reporters, Roosevelt reiterated this note. One asked: Will there be more "punch" in American efforts against Hitler?

"Help for the Democracies of the world, yes," Roosevelt replied.

"As a result of this conference, sir?"

"Yes. In other words, it clarified many, many things. It discussed operations. As I said the other day, in practically every sector of the whole world . . . it has brought a . . . better meeting of the minds on needs, and the fight that the Democracies are putting up against n.a.z.ism."

THEN, MADDENINGLY TO Churchill, Roosevelt tacked away from warlike rhetoric once more, rea.s.suring the capital that he, and no one else, was in charge. Churchill would not push him around. At the cabinet meeting, someone said, "You want to look out, Mr. President. Churchill may be pulling your leg by letting you win the first round." Roosevelt admitted, Perkins recalled, "that he recognized some of the qualities of a trader in Churchill." Then, out of the pride that had driven the destroyer deal, Roosevelt said: "But, of course, you know Grandpa's pretty good at trading, too."

A writer named Alice Deane sent Eleanor a letter tinged with isolationist criticism in the aftermath of the conference, saying that although America had gotten the wrong end of the deal on the destroyers-for-bases arrangement, she was pleased about Roosevelt's ability to "refuse to be duped" into intervening in the war during his meeting with Churchill. Roosevelt dictated a sharp memo in reply.

"I should say Alice Deane must be an a.s.s. The destroyer deal was a 'deal'-and very successful from our trading point of view," Roosevelt wrote Eleanor. "In regard to the Atlantic conference, there was no pressure put on me at any time either by 'the overpowering Winston Churchill' or any of his five or six aides. Neither did 'our own aggregation of Army and Navy chiefs press for further steps toward war. . . .' How do people like she get that way anyway? . . . (You can send her a copy of this if you long to!)" Eleanor apparently did not.

Churchill watched Roosevelt's act with alarm. In what Robert Sherwood called "one of the gloomiest messages that ever came to the White House from the normally confident, ebullient Prime Minister," Churchill complained to Hopkins that Roosevelt's spin that America was no closer to war was sending a "wave of depression through Cabinet and other informed circles here. . . ." Touchingly, Churchill wrote: "If 1942 opens with Russia knocked out and Britain left again alone, all kinds of dangers may arise. I do not think Hitler will help in any way." Hopkins, Churchill went on, "will know best whether anything more can be done. Should be grateful if you could give me any sort of hope."

The prime minister had to content himself with a kind of stoic optimism. "Talking of the war in general," Charles Eade said of the early years, "Mr. Churchill likened himself to a dead cat floating on the sea, but would be eventually washed up on the sh.o.r.es of victory."

CHURCHILL AND ROOSEVELT had personal concerns as well. Fortunately for Churchill, Clementine had recovered. "Your mother is much better now," Churchill wrote Randolph. "She was very tired, but retired for treatment to a home hard by, which has done her no end of good."

Roosevelt's news was not as rea.s.suring. On Sunday, September 7, her son with her, Sara Delano Roosevelt died. It was a wrenching time. Sara had been difficult but devoted, and Roosevelt enjoyed being the object of devotion. "Those who were closest to Franklin Roosevelt could not presume to guess at the quality of sorrow caused him by his mother's death," Sherwood wrote. "One needed only a small realization of the tenacity with which he clung to every surviving link with the lovely world of his childhood-a world fantastically different from the one in which he now lived and fought-to know that his sorrow was very deep indeed." Eleanor was a source of warmth. "Mother went to father and consoled him" after Sara's death, James Roosevelt recalled. "She stayed with him and was by his side at the funeral and through the difficult days immediately afterward. She showed him more affection during those days than at any other time I can recall. She was the kind you could count on in a crisis, and father knew that." Sara had, of course, left explicit instructions about her funeral. "Franklin's mother had always wanted to die in her own room at Hyde Park and be buried simply in the churchyard, with the men who had worked for her on the place for many years carrying the casket," Eleanor recalled. "Her wishes were carefully observed."

There was more grief to come. Hall Roosevelt, Eleanor's beloved brother, died a few weeks later. Hall had been an alcoholic like her father and her uncles, and he had been both a joy and a disappointment to Eleanor. Roosevelt repaid Eleanor's kindness at Sara's death; he "did not fail her," James said. ". . . I remember clearly the day she went to father and said simply, 'Hall has died.' Father struggled to her side and put his arm around her. 'Sit down,' he said, so tenderly I can still hear it. And he sank down beside her and hugged her and kissed her and held her head on his chest."

HEARING OF SARA'S DEATH, Churchill sent a telegram to Roosevelt. "Pray accept my deep sympathy in your most grievous loss," he wrote. "Thank you for your kind and friendly message," Roosevelt replied. The next day, Churchill gave the House of Commons his report on Newfoundland, closing with an allusion to William Ernest Henley's poem "Invictus," which was also a Roosevelt favorite: "We still are master of our fate. We still are captain of our souls." Words like these buoyed Churchill as he tried to a.s.sess Roosevelt's true state of mind.

On a visit to London that September, Eugene Meyer of The Washington Post was in the Distinguished Visitors' Gallery as Churchill spoke in the House. "The P.M.'s address was in his usual admirable English . . . ," Meyer wrote in a diary of the trip. "Churchill seemed in fine condition, physically and mentally and previous to his speech answered some questions of administration with snap and good-humour."

Meyer noticed the stresses beneath the surface of wartime London. Lunching alone at Claridge's, he was struck by the faces of uniformed men in the hotel. "The young men are really fine looking, but behind the eyes of their mothers and the sweethearts with whom they lunch," Meyer wrote, "one reads many things which contradict the outer appearances of lightheartedness and enjoyment of the moment." At a lunch at Downing Street with Churchill and Clementine, Meyer found himself one of a number at the table, including Virginia Cowles, an American journalist, author, and friend of the Churchill family. "As we sat down to the mixed gathering, the situation naturally developed as to whether or not Virginia, who had written a book about her experiences on the Continent, or I, on the other side of the table, was going to have the Prime Minister's attention," Meyer wrote. "I am ashamed to say I was rather ruthless and as I had come quite a way to have this talk I got most of the attention that I needed." Churchill made sure he impressed his distinguished American guest. "Churchill was in fine form, the picture of health, vigour and of all the men I have ever seen grow in relation to power and responsibility, he has made the greatest jump," Meyer wrote. "His discussion of any subject is on the highest level, his ideas are clear and direct."

In these weeks, Churchill thought events were about to push Roosevelt into full-blown hostilities. In the Atlantic, there had been a skirmish between a German U-boat and the Greer, an American destroyer. Could this be, Churchill wondered, the precipitating incident to bring Roosevelt into war? Churchill hoped so, taking comfort from the president's promise, made the night before Roosevelt was summoned to Hyde Park to watch his mother die, that "for your private and very confidential information I am planning to make a radio address Monday night relative to the attack on our destroyer and to make perfectly clear the action we intend to take in the Atlantic."

The fireside chat had been postponed until September 11, 1941, when Roosevelt put Berlin on notice. "We have sought no shooting war with Hitler," he told the nation. "We do not seek it now. . . . But when you see a rattlesnake poised to strike, you do not wait until he has struck before you crush him. . . . From now on, if German or Italian vessels of war enter the waters, the protection of which is necessary for American defense, they do so at their own peril. . . . I have no illusions about the gravity of this step. I have not taken it hurriedly or lightly. It is the result of months and months of constant thought and anxiety and prayer."

AT A LUNCHEON with British editors in London, Eugene Meyer was asked to talk about Roosevelt's thinking. "By way of starting discussion I brought up particularly the question of the apparent general eagerness to have us formally declare war and why we don't, which is being asked over here rather widely," Meyer recalled. "I pointed out that Mr. Roosevelt is carrying on undeclared war and doing most of the things we would be doing if war were declared, and doing them more quickly than could be done through action by Congress." A week earlier in Des Moines, Charles Lindbergh had a.s.serted that "the three most important groups which have been pressing this country toward war are the British, the Jewish and the Roosevelt Administration." Referring to this isolationist rant, Meyer said: "Mr. Lindbergh's speech in Iowa showing that he practically adopted the Hitler programme appeared to me, I said, in very much the same way as. .h.i.tler's submarine attacks on our shipping, to have been forced by Roosevelt's continuous forward steps."

Listening to Roosevelt's Greer speech in London, Churchill was pleased. "Roosevelt this morning excellent," he wrote a friend. "As we used to sing at Sandhurst 'Now we shan't be long!' "

IN THE END, of course, it would be j.a.pan, not Germany, that proved Churchill right. Busy with diplomatic maneuverings with Tokyo's representatives in Washington, Roosevelt delayed his usual Thanksgiving trip to Warm Springs, where he traditionally hosted a feast with his fellow patients in the Georgia hills. Reaching his retreat on the Sat.u.r.day after Thanksgiving, Roosevelt received a call from Secretary of State Cordell Hull: The crisis with j.a.pan was getting worse.

He could not unwind after Hull's call. That night in the dining hall, Grace Tully noticed "a quiet chill in the great room." Roosevelt had listened to the Army-Navy football game off and on that afternoon and delivered a serious speech after the meal. "It may be that next Thanksgiving these boys of the Military Academy and of the Naval Academy will be actually fighting for the defense of these American inst.i.tutions of ours," he said. Hull telephoned again; Roosevelt decided to leave the next morning. On the way to the station, he said his good-byes.

"This may be the last time I talk to you for a long time," Roosevelt told his Warm Springs neighbors, then disappeared north.

ON THE WEEKEND of December 7, Churchill was at Chequers, pacing outside the main entrance at midday Sunday when John G. "Gil" Winant, the current American amba.s.sador, arrived for lunch.

Did Winant think there would be war with j.a.pan? Churchill asked.

"Yes," Winant said.

"If they declare war on you, we shall declare war on them within the hour."

"I understand, Prime Minister. You have stated that publicly."

Then came the rub. "If they declare war on us," Churchill asked, "will you declare war on them?"

"I can't answer that, Prime Minister," Winant said, falling back on a civics lesson. "Only the Congress has the right to declare war under the United States Const.i.tution." (From Roosevelt on down, Americans were always lecturing Churchill about the separation of powers.) Winant guessed what was worrying Churchill. "He must have realized," Winant later wrote, "that if j.a.pan attacked Siam or British territory it would force Great Britain into an Asiatic war and leave us out of the war."

Shaking off that cataclysmic prospect, Churchill said to Winant, "We're late, you know. You get washed and we will go in to lunch together."

SUNDAYS WERE RELAXING days at the White House. Roosevelt did not go to church regularly in Washington. "I can do almost everything in the 'Goldfish Bowl' of the President's life," he told Frances Perkins, "but I'll be hanged if I can say my prayers in it."

On Sunday, December 7, Hopkins and Roosevelt were lunching at Roosevelt's desk in the study, talking, Hopkins recalled, "about things far removed from war," when the secretary of the navy telephoned Roosevelt. The j.a.panese had surprised the fleet just after 7:30 that morning. About 2,400 people would die; 1,200 were wounded.

AS ROOSEVELT DIRECTED the American war effort's opening moves from the White House, the news had still not reached Chequers. Clementine did not feel well and had not come down for dinner. Churchill sat with Averell Harriman, his daughter Kathleen, Pamela Churchill, Gil Winant, John Martin, Tommy Thompson, and Lord Ismay. It was not an uncommon gathering for Churchill: a mix of family, close aides, and American envoys. Harriman usually got a lot of work done with the prime minister on such weekends. "Churchill had discovered that Averell could play bezique, which not many people could do, so they had a way to spend time together," Kathleen recalled, "and the conversation while shuffling the several decks at the end of a game took time and helped them resolve all kinds of issues."

There were no games tonight. "The Prime Minister seemed tired and depressed," Averell Harriman remembered. "He didn't have much to say throughout dinner and was immersed in his thoughts, with his head in his hands part of the time." The only thing worse than what Britain had endured since the spring of 1940 might be in the offing: a lonely two-front war. Shortly before the nine o'clock news, Sawyers, Churchill's valet, carried in a portable radio. Churchill was, Harriman recalled, "a bit slow" turning it on and missed the top headline. The first item the dinner party heard was about a tank battle in Libya.

Then the announcer returned to the top story. "The news has just been given that j.a.panese aircraft have raided Pearl Harbor, the American naval base in Hawaii. The announcement of the attack was made in a brief statement by President Roosevelt. Naval and military targets on the princ.i.p.al Hawaiian island of Oahu have also been attacked. No further details are yet available."

The report did not register with Churchill. "I did not personally sustain any direct impression," he later said. Harriman repeated the words he had heard: "The j.a.panese have raided Pearl Harbor." In the confusion of the moment, Commander Thompson interrupted, saying, "No, no, he said 'Pearl River.' " While Harriman and Thompson argued, Churchill, suddenly energized, "slammed the top of the radio down" and rose as Sawyers entered the dining room.

"It's quite true," Sawyers said. "We heard it ourselves outside. The j.a.panese have attacked the Americans." Martin, who had bolted from the table, returned with word that the Admiralty was on the line, confirming the news. There was, Churchill remembered, "a silence." The prime minister headed for the door, saying, "We shall declare war on j.a.pan." Winant chased after him: "Good G.o.d, you can't declare war on a radio announcement."

Churchill paused. "What shall I do?" he asked.

"I will call up the President by telephone and ask him what the facts are," Winant said.