Ciano wrote in his Diary for that day:
“Mussolini gave a speech from the balcony---a brief and cutting speech that descended on a huge crowd. A very pro-Japanese setting. News of the naval victories has excited the Italian imagination. The demonstration, however, was not very enthusiastic. We must not forget that it was three o’clock in the afternoon, the people were hungry, and the day was quite cold.”
Mussolini declared war on the United States exactly one hour after Hitler’s Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop had read the German declaration of war to the press corps assembled at the foreign ministry in Berlin. The Germans had started the indiscriminate sinking of American ships immediately as of December 7, even before war was formally declared. Hitler had finally approved the German navy’s urgent request for unrestricted naval warfare. On December 9 the German embassy in Washington was instructed to burn its documents. The Italians did the same. Newsmen were speculating how long it would take for a formal declaration of war that would come formally only two days later to allow many pending situations to be resolved as quickly as possible…
It was 10:30 a.m. and Dr. Aldo Freddi was waiting for a red light to change on Times Square, at the famous intersection of 42nd Street and Broadway. Two black Buick sedans pulled up and he immediately understood what was happening. Willy Anderson followed by three other agents all wearing long winter coats and dark fedoras got out of the cars. Anderson went up to Freddi and flashed his badge:
“Dr. Aldo Freddi?”
“Yes.”
“William Anderson, FBI, I have orders to detain you as an enemy agent. We are taking you into custody for your protection. Will you please get in the car, sir?”
Freddi turned and saw a second unfriendly face staring at him with a dead cigar stuck in his mouth.
“Fine” said Freddi “it will be my pleasure.”
Those fellows were just dying to play sheriff and get their pictures in the Daily Mirror! Still he was unhappy when Anderson relieved him of his red leather attaché case and pushed him into the back seat of the second sedan.
“All right let’s go,” Anderson told the driver “and don’t be shy about using the siren because we’ve got a few more pick-ups to make today.”
Freddi looked out the window as the siren started blaring and the big car threaded swiftly through the parting traffic. These were the last few minutes of peace on the sidewalks of New York and he seriously wondered whether German, Italian and Japanese bombs would be exploding soon.
Right now he had another problem. He didn’t expect to be picked up so quickly and hadn’t had time to properly prepare for the little scene that was going to be played for the benefit of the newsmen assembled in front of police headquarters. Fortunately he kept the daily diary in his vest pocket. He calculated that he had just enough time to prepare and make sure everything would look “real.”
Anderson went rummaging through the attaché case, messing up the papers. Freddi moved as if he was trying to grab the briefcase.
“Just a minute, you have no right to go through my personal effects. There is nothing political or military in there!”
“That’s for us to decide professor! We’re at war now, remember? And don’t even think of attempting any funny business in the car, understood?”
“Ok, ok!”
Freddi was leafing through the pages of the diary with his left hand carefully tearing off three or four at a time as he faked a fit of coughing.
The Buick traveled quickly down Broadway and Freddi asked to open the rear window. The cold draft was welcome and he managed to drop tiny bits of paper into the wind. As it neared police headquarters the car took a few turns before stopping suddenly at the curb. Many other vehicles were crowding the street ahead as agents and city detectives brought in scores of enemy aliens. The agent opened the door and grabbed Freddi by his left arm.
“Ok, you’re home now, buddy.” He said mockingly.
Freddi pretended to trip on the sidewalk and Anderson saw him attempting to toss the diary into the wet water drain.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Give me that…”
He pushed Freddi aside and grabbed the little leather booklet that remained stuck at the mouth of the drain and was already soggy with the filthy water. News photographers were strategically positioned to snap pictures of the FBI special agent kneeling over the rain drain to pick up evidence that a suspected Axis spy had thrown away.
“Come on, get going…” said Anderson looking proud of having salvaged a key document. A reporter noted the scene for his column and began asking questions but Anderson brushed him aside saying all this was highly confidential and he shouldn’t name any names.
Freddi was placed in a large waiting room with dozens of Axis diplomats and sympathizers who were on the lists the FBI had been compiling since 1939. Wild stories were going around about how each one had been arrested and he volunteered his account to anyone who would listen. Some two hours later he was called out by one of the guards and marched to a small empty room. Anderson was waiting with Marvin Tucker from Washington.
“Well professor, I hope this wasn’t too difficult for you?”
Freddi smiled, and shook his head.
“No, no, not at all. This morning’s commotion was well choreographed. Mrs. Nicolosi is now very suspicious of me because Barbieri told her I wasn’t to be trusted.”
“Well the FBI is very grateful for your help. The director has obtained permanent resident status for you from immigration in view of your efforts to help this country. Your lawyer will have no trouble getting you through the paperwork and full citizenship will be routine matter after that.” Anderson handed Freddi a name and address and Tucker smiled and shook hands.