Washington met the same fate later. Twenty-five cities have been struck by plutonium bombs of exceptionally high power. Some twenty millions of us were killed or injured in the attack. Untold numbers, hundreds of thousands, are dying in the progressively worsening riots. It is the judgment of the military”—he paused, looked at the officers—“that weeks, if not months, will be required to restore order, and an indeterminate interval, many more months, to bring the nation back to a state of production and communication which will support the survivors at a survival level. I am sure you are, in general, familiar with those ghastly facts.”
There were murmurs of assent.
“Three possibilities face the United States of America. The first is—surrender.”
A heart-rending “ No!” was wreathed in low-toned murmurs of rejection.
“The enemy,” the President went on grimly, “has offered terms.”
That, too, stirred the audience.
“We have learned the terms by radio, through neutrals. They are quite simple. We are to surrender all atomic weapons, to dismantle all atomic plants and works, to allow enough of the enemy free access within this nation to ensure that the status is permanent. There will be no occupation, no tribute.”
His eyes went over the room. Some of the haggard faces were stony. But some glowed with hope.
“A great predecessor of mine, in an hour of trial, once called an example of wanton assault ‘a day that will live in infamy.’ No phrase, in any language, can be made to speak the evil now done to this nation. I shall not try to give you any condemnatory words. But, let me point out, the offered terms seem reasonable. It is only a seeming. If we grant those terms, nothing—ever afterward—can prevent the enemy from working upon us whatever his further will may be.
We know his philosophy. We bleed now under his treachery. Disarmed, we shall surely soon be enslaved. But surrender is one possibility.