Mac planned for an interminably dreary train ride to Canada, as a January snow fell relentlessly upon the well-worn tracks from the city northward. The silent solitude was overwhelming in its loneliness. Gazing through the frosted window of the Empire State Express, Mac found himself in a place to which he was not accustomed. Carla, now a most necessary part of his existence, was gone, on her own, in a city that could be unforgiving, if not altogether smothering. Mac was alone with his thoughts, the whiteness all around him a blank slate for his vibrant imagination.
Thanksgiving had been wonderful, in his childhood home, watching his mother and his wife working seamlessly together in the kitchen, while he chatted with his dad, both understanding full well that this might possibly never happen again. Grace was recited around the dinner table, but the conversation soon turned to the probability of war. No one was thrilled with the decision to pack Mac up for spy training, in Canada no less, but that was a decision of the President of the United States himself. The family prayed together that war would never come; yet they were all certain that their efforts would be wasted.
“Penny for your thoughts, sailor?” offered a young lady who sat herself on the cane seat facing Mac, as the train bumped along the snow slicked tracks.
Mac smiled at the young lady, in her light tan wool coat and big taupe felt hat, happy to have the company. Mac was in his khaki uniform, as was now fashionable, everyone wanting to show that he was a member of the armed forces. It had been less then a month since Pearl Harbor had shocked America, despite everyone knowing that something was about to happen. Mac had been pondering the loss of life in the solitude of his train car; so unnecessary, so enraging. He contemplated turning around, abandoning this spy idea, to join up on the spot. He wanted in, and he wanted in now. He was already a Commander in the Navy, but what did he know about ships? Yet, thinking about waiting through months of training, without the opportunity to do anything about what had happened, further soured Mac's demeanor, and his enthusiasm for this trip to the tundra. He missed his wife already, and he was not able to join all his friends in signing up for the great fight. Of course, he could not tell anyone what he was doing, all the way up in Canada. He felt like people must be thinking that he was running away from the fight. Everything at Camp X was top secret. It was being said that even the Prime Minister of Canada had no idea what was going on up there in the wilds along Lake Ontario.
That fateful Sunday, December 7th, 1941, Mac and Carla had been among 55,000 spectators at a football game between the New York Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers. It had been Tuffy Leemans Day at the Polo Grounds, as the Giants presented their star running back with $1,500 in defense bonds. The first hint that something was amiss came as the game announcer paged William Donavan over the loudspeaker, advising him publicly to call operator 19 in Washington immediately. Mac did not know Donavan was at the game, but he knew it must be important enough to interrupt his Sunday afternoon. Minutes later, the public address announcer once again took to the loudspeaker, summoning all military personnel to call in to their superiors in Washington, or to return to their posts. The game itself was interrupted at 2:26 p.m. with the news that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor.
Most Americans had never even heard of Pearl Harbor, let alone known where it was; they had their eyes on Europe, not on the Pacific. The game continued, but those attending in military uniforms, including Mac, made their way to the exits.
As the general announcement was being made at the stadium, Radio bulletins were interrupting the game on the airwaves, spreading the word that Pearl Harbor had been bombed by the Japanese at one o’clock Eastern Standard Time, eight o’clock in the morning in Hawaii. Robert Eisenbach, an editor at the National Broadcasting Company in Rockefeller Center, caught the news on the Teletype machine at 2:27p.m., thereafter picking up the telephone to order the network's master control room to cut off all programming. Although he had never been on the air before, Eisenbach grabbed the emergency microphone, his voice being the only one on 246 affiliated stations across America informing the American people of the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
“Flash: Washington--White House says Japs attack Pearl Harbor.”
It was all over the radio, everyone glued to his or her sets to pick up the news of what was happening.
“I was just thinking about my wife, and how I was missing her,” replied Mac, to the young lady who had now stood up to remove her hat and coat.
“How long have you been married, sailor?”
“A few months,” answered Mac, smoothing out his uniform trousers.
“That explains it,” said the young woman, chuckling, as she flattened out her skirt behind her as she again sat down once again facing Mac. “My name is Eleanor, what is yours?”
“It's Mac. Nice to meet you, Eleanor.”
“It's nice to meet you, Mac,” said Eleanor, as she reached out to shake his hand. “I am married myself. My husband just joined up. He went down to 39 Whitehall Street, along with the rest of them from the neighborhood. Where are you going, by the way? Seems like you are going in the wrong direction. You a conscientious objector, or something?”
“No, no,” said Mac perturbed. “I am off for some training, actually; in Canada.”
“In Canada? What kind of training is there in Canada? Snowbird fighting?”
“I cannot discuss it, but it is some kind of joint training with the Canadians and the British.”
“Oh, I bet you are a spy, aren’t you? Am I right?”
“I cannot talk about it, Eleanor! Where are you off to on this miserable day?”
“To visit my parents in Buffalo; with all the excitement, I missed the holidays with them for the first time. So, how was your Christmas?”
“My Christmas turned out to be pretty great, actually. That is what I was thinking about. I got some good news.”
“What kind of good news? I love good news! But what could be good news at a time like this?”
“My wife told me that she is having our first baby.”
“Well, I’ll say that is good news. You guys work fast. How did she tell you?”
“She told me and my family around the Christmas tree, while we were opening presents. She wanted to tell me alone, but she felt that the mood was so somber; she thought she would add some cheer to the party. She is somewhat of a free spirit, my wife. She was right, though, it worked. We all had a wonderful Christmas after that.”
“She was right about everyone being so somber; that is for sure. I was in church the Sunday following Pearl; you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was deep in prayer, or in thought, at least. That week, the black cars had already started to pull up to homes in Brooklyn, military men getting out to walk up to the front doors of already grief-stricken homes. Air raid sirens were going off willy-nilly, even where there were no shadows in the sky. There was a terror on the faces of mothers everywhere; fathers were huddled with each other, dwelling on every bit of news. The fear was all encompassing, despite everyone pretending that it was business as usual. It took until that following Sunday for it all to set in, and for everyone to realize we were at war.”
“Manhattan is also in a stupor since the attack. I was just sitting here thinking about leaving my pregnant wife at home, while I go off playing sailor.”
“Where were you when you heard the news?”
“You mean Pearl? I was at a football game. Where were you?”
“I was at Carnegie Hall with my husband. Arthur Rubenstein was performing, Chopin piano concerto, with the Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra. When he finished, the audience gave him a standing ovation, which stopped dead in its tracks when the announcer took the stage to tell us that the Japanese had attacked the United States. Spontaneously, the orchestra began to play the Star-Spangled Banner. Everyone stood and sang. It was marvelous, quite frankly.”
Despite the fear, it is amazing how people have pulled together, no? Everyone is rushing to sign up,” said Mac.
“It has been crazy; like we can do anything at this point. That Sunday was a shock to everyone.”
“What about the mayor? Can you believe him? He made it worse!” exclaimed Mac. “He just happened to be at the city owned WNYC radio station presenting them with a plaque in recognition of its public service. They were apparently waiting to go on the air when the United Press Teletype machine let out the news of the bombing. The mayor went on the air, both as mayor and the National Civil Defense Director, and he stirred the pot. What did he say? Something about we should not feel secure because we are on the Atlantic coast. That we should be prepared for anything, at any time.”
“I heard that LaGuardia summoned all of his Commissioners to City Hall that Sunday, while he had the Police bring the few workers that happened to be at the Nippon Club to the nearest precinct, for what, no one knew,” said Eleanor. I heard that he ordered all Japanese subjects in the city to remain in their homes until the federal government determined their status. Can you believe that they are rounding up all the Japanese American men and bringing them to Ellis Island? It is chaos! It is frightening; but I must say, it is a little thrilling at the same time, no?”
“The Japanese did what no politician had been able to accomplish; they galvanized the will of the American people,” remarked Mac. “Everyone is ready to fight for our homeland, for our way of life.”
“Did you hear Roosevelt's speech?” asked Eleanor.
“I did; I was down in my office on Wall Street. At noon, everyone went out into the street to hear the President on loudspeakers.
“The United States has been suddenly and deliberately attacked by the Empire of Japan. December 7th, 1941, a date that will live in Infamy.”
“Pretty powerful speech; I heard he and Harry Hopkins stayed up all night coming up with the right words.”
“Do you know the President?” asked Eleanor, curiously.
“I do. He is a very troubled man over all of this.”
“Yes, I would imagine he is. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Now, we must fight both in the Pacific, and in Europe. I do not know how the man deals with all this stress.”
“Well, it is actually Congress who declared war,” responded Mac. “His speech was before a Joint Session of Congress, to push them to make the declaration of war.”
“And the American people were fast to respond to the call to arms,” replied the young woman. “And even with the holidays right around the corner, everyone jumped right in and prepared for war.”
Mac treated the young lady to a sumptuous dinner in the dining car, as they swung by Albany, and headed west. They sat in leather banquette seating, facing each other, white tablecloths, and shining silverware. The porter took their order and allowed them to dwell on their meal and a bottle of wine. The conversation was lively, and entertaining; Mac was disappointed when the woman had to leave the train at Buffalo. He switched trains himself, heading north into the wilds of Canada.
Mac had been hazy as to where exactly Lake Ontario was before he was assigned to Camp X. Foster Dulles gave him a basic understanding as to what it was all about, as did Wild Bill Donavan. He had even been invited back to The Room to discuss what he had seen and heard in Italy, and about what he was about to encounter in Canada. Bill Stephenson was there to fill him in, and to bring regards from Betty Pack. He was now her handler full time, as she continued to work as a spy for the British.
As the train pulled into Whitby, Ontario, the site of Camp X, the snow had stopped, and the town was now alive with vehicles, and with people shoveling. The Lake was iced over, so there was no telling where the waterline met the land. A man named William Fairbairn had come to the station to get Mac, and deliver him to the Camp, which had been dubbed “the school of mayhem and murder.” Mac would soon learn that Fairbairn was known as “Dangerous Dan,” he being the British Special Operations Executive in charge of close-combat training.
After settling in his wooden bunk, along with twenty other wide-eyed recruits, the men attended a nighttime meeting with Eric Sykes, another trainer at the camp. Sykes explained that their technique, his and Fairbairn's, was to “get down in the gutter, and to win at all costs; no more playing fair, its kill or be killed.” They were told that they would be masters in the art of knife-wielding combat, in close-quarters fighting, and the use of firearms. The men were also advised that they would become demolition experts, adept in the recruitment of resistance fighters, and whizzes in massaging the hearts and minds of those they come into contact within foreign lands. Mac had his reservations, but outwardly he showed no discomfort with their admonitions. They were told that they would never train harder, but in the end, that they would be the best trained espionage experts in the world.
William Donavan addressed the new recruits the following day, telling them that they were the most intelligent, quick-witted individuals, capable of thinking outside the box that he could find. He further told them that they were from all walks of life, backgrounds, religions, and cultures, and that they were selected based upon their abilities to be independent thinkers. Donavan said, “I’d rather have a young lieutenant with enough guts to disobey a direct order than a colonel too regimented to think for himself.”
Mac, like the rest of the recruits, was given a code name to be used in any future missions. His code name was “Harvard,” for which he was ribbed by his fellow officers constantly. Also, being Navy, was a source of amusement for all, his fellow recruits wondering how his spy techniques would translate to the water.
Mac spent the next months learning the finer points of knife play, intelligence gathering, explosives, lock picking, and code communications. The men were put through their paces physically, running every day, in the snow, rain, sleet, or hail. They lifted weights, jumped rope, boxed, and were schooled in judo and karate. By the end of the first month, Mac was in the best shape of his life. He was a lean, mean, fighting machine, ready to be deployed behind enemy lines at a moment's notice.
By the spring, those men who were still at the camp were taken outside for target practice, with various guns, and with knives. Mac was taught to throw a knife with fine accuracy, and with extreme prejudice, even with it tethered to his arm, up the sleeve of his shirt. He was taught to kill silently with that very same knife, to come up behind an adversary, and to slit his throat. The men relentlessly practiced on dummies, and then, it was on to wild boar, just so they could taste real blood. After months, it became expected there was to be no hesitation when it became necessary to use lethal force.
The men were schooled in safe parachuting into enemy territory, Mac being required to jump out of planes in the middle of the night. He was even blindfolded at times, to teach him to trust his instincts in pulling the ripcord, and in anticipating the coming of the ground beneath his feet. The men were also taught the fine art of silent water approaches, training in both wooden boats and in rubber rafts.
Mac was required to learn underwater tactics, including scuba diving and snorkeling. Lake Ontario, both when it was cold, and when it was warmed by the spring sun, was the perfect testing ground for the would-be spies. The recruits were required to hold their breath for up to four minutes at a time, to pass the course.
By the April of 1942, as Mac was toiling to learn his craft, Carla was becoming a bright comer on Broadway, tagging alone with Hallie wherever she would go. Due to her pregnancy, her work was somewhat limited in terms of what she could do, but she was in there nonetheless, with promises of future involvement down the line. She was taking singing and acting lessons, with those mentors recommended by Hallie, on a weekly basis. She also became involved in the equal rights movement for women and minorities, being influenced by Eleanor Roosevelt, whom Carla had met at Hyde Park with her mother-in-law at a poetry reading.
Both Carla and Mac missed each other terribly. They would write letters almost daily, but much of what Mac wrote had to be redacted for security purposes. Carla was just happy hearing from her husband, knowing that he was well. She knew there would come a time when she would no longer be that fortunate. Men were already being shipped off to basic training, and on their way to Northern Africa. Once they were deployed, letters became a rare commodity.
In May, Carla was thrilled when Mac summoned her to Niagara Falls one weekend, both taking trains to their rendezvous. The lovers could not resist being in each other's arms a moment longer, despite Carla being somewhere around seven months pregnant. The falls were inspiring, but their love was even more overpowering. At the end of the weekend, they both cried as they parted ways, for how long, neither had any way of knowing.
That July, Carla had a baby boy, while Mac was still secreted away in the Canadian woods. She named the child Telesforo, Teles, after her father. She was homesick for her family, particularly with Mac not around, but she knew that this was not a good time to be in Italy. Telesforo was a big baby, over nine pounds, and most importantly, he was healthy. Carla and Teles spent much of their time with the Martinis in Poughkeepsie, awaiting the return of Mac.
That November, as Mac came home from Camp X fully trained as a spy, the Americans had entered North Africa, pushing the Germans and the Italians back across the desert. The reality of war was coming at the young couple all too quickly; both Carla and Mac understood that Mac would be required to perform his duty at any time now. Rumor had it that Italy was next, which would surely mean that Mac would be called into action. He felt that he was ready, and he was chomping at the bit to get into the fight.
John Foster Dulles met with Mac at the office to fill him in on what was happening at the firm, and what was happening in Rome. The Pope had been asking as to his well being, and Balsieri was keeping the firm going in Rome as best he could under the circumstances. The Germans were not in Rome yet, but they were all over Italy preparing for an inevitable Allied invasion. Dulles informed Mac that Sicily was the first steppingstone into Europe, as the Allies were finishing off the Axis on the north coast of Africa.
Mac was told that he would be going to North Africa at the end of the year, to be briefed on Project Husky, and his participation in the mission to take Sicily from the Axis. Mac knew that he was being sent to Sicily to help the resistance prepare for an Allied landing, and to work on the hearts and minds of the Italian people. Mac had gotten a note to Don Corelli, asking him if he could stay in Palermo, on his compound. Mac got word back that he was more than welcome, and that the Don had been busy working on the Sicilians acceptance of the Allied forces coming to save them.
Mac had insisted that he and Carla get a bigger apartment, which he managed to secure in the same building, on a higher floor. Their three-bedroom apartment had a nursery, and a guest room, in case someone was going to come from Italy to see their new grandchild, or nephew. Of course, that would not be possible until after the war, but it was hoped that peace would be soon at hand. The weeks before Christmas, Mac painted the nursery in baby blue, with clouds on the ceiling, as Carla helped with the white trim. The young couple was very happy, walking young Teles in Central Park, in a perambulator on loan from his parents, the very same one Mac's mother had used for him.
Carla kept up her theater interests with Hallie, while Mac watched the infant during those last months of 1942. Finally, the call came, as the New Year turned. Mac was required to ship off to Casablanca the following week, in January of 1943, where he would be shuffled off to Tangiers to meet with the powers that be. The night before he left, the young couple had a candlelit dinner in their apartment, with the baby asleep in his little chair. They made love that night as if it would be their last, and they both sobbed themselves to sleep in each other's arms.