Читать книгу An Affair of State - Harry Hart Frank - Страница 17

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For the next six weeks Jeff Baker became a blue peg that was moved across a board called “Orientation” in Mr. Dannenberg’s office. He absorbed lectures on Atomic Energy and International Security, the Crisis in Britain, India at the Crossroads, The Petropolis Conference, Greece at the Crossroads, Political Problems in Southeast Asia, The Crisis in Germany, France at the Crossroads, The Arab Crisis, Italy at the Crossroads, Why The Straits Are Vital, The Austrian Crisis.

It was also a period of filling out papers and forms. One of these asked where he wanted to go—his “preference sheet.” He was allowed four choices, and assured that only very bad luck could keep him from one of the four. He recalled that long ago his father had mentioned that the Department never, never, under any circumstances sent a man to the post of his first choice, probably under the assumption that he had a girl there. He doubted whether this custom had changed.

Originally he had wanted Rome, or Milan, or Trieste, for he knew the terrain of Italy better than he knew any state in his own country, and for the Italian people he felt warm sympathy and big-brotherly tolerance. He put down Shanghai, Trieste, Rome, and Budapest. He hoped it would be Budapest. This would interest and please Susan Pickett, but why it was important to please or interest Susan Pickett he didn’t precisely know. He’d called her twice. The first time she’d been busy, and the second time she’d said, “Jeff, I’m thinking. You understand, don’t you?” He’d said sure, he understood, but he didn’t understand at all.

Jeff’s blue peg moved from the board called “Orientation” to the one called “Processing.” He was briefed by the Department’s travel experts, chivvied about his insurance and his will, given shots for typhoid, typhus, yellow fever, tetanus, and plague, and exposed to stern and somewhat melodramatic talks on personal security.

When he had been pumped so full of lectures and vaccines that it seemed both his brain and his body must burst, Dannenberg told him he had been assigned to Budapest, and would finish his training on the Balkans desk. “You’ll get the big picture of what’s going on in your area,” he explained. “You’ll report to Mr. Matson in Temporary Building P. You probably won’t do much except read the dispatches, but that’ll keep you busy.”

“I want to thank you,” Jeff said, “for all your help. That day I took the oral, I thought I’d never make it.”

“Quite truthfully, I didn’t either, for a while,” said Dannenberg. “You know, Baker, sometimes agreeable silence is the best diplomacy. We all learn that. Some of us learn it too late.”

“I see,” Jeff said.

“I’d stick pretty close to Matson, if I were you. I’d try to understand his viewpoint. Since he’ll be your Division Chief while you’re at your first post, he’ll have a good deal to do with the advancement of your career. He won’t be so important as your Chief of Mission, and your senior colleagues, naturally, but it doesn’t hurt to have friends in the Department.”

“What’s Matson’s viewpoint?”

“Well, just between us, Matson is a war now man. I think he was a bit alarmed by what you said about war, and you’d do well to make your peace with him.”