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Molotov carrying the ball while [the Western representatives] tried to tackle him all over the field.”21

To a degree, Kennedy suggested, the Soviets’ go-it-alone style in the proceedings was understandable, rooted as it was in genuine security concerns, and an absolute conviction that Mother Russia, having endured colossal hardship over the previous four years, must never be invaded again. The Red Army, moreover, had borne the brunt of the fighting against the German war machine, suffering huge casualties, while the Americans and the British dithered over launching the second front; why should the West be trusted now?22 Yet Kennedy cautioned American and British leaders against simply acquiescing to Moscow’s demands, and he anticipated the Cold War that was to come. “There is growing discouragement among people concerning our chances of winning any lasting peace from this war,” he wrote in the third week of the conference. “There is talk of fighting the Russians in the next ten or fifteen years. We have indeed gone a long way since those hopeful days early in the war when we talked of union now and one world.” The following day he was gloomier still, predicting that, in the absence of a meaningful settlement, Soviet-American relations would rapidly worsen. The political battle would go on in Europe and spread to Asia at the conclusion of the war with Japan.23

On May 7, the day of Germany’s surrender and a week after Hitler and his bride of thirty-six hours committed suicide in their Berlin bunker as the Soviets closed in, Jack articulated the American servicemen’s assessment of the conference. “It is natural that they should be most concerned for its result, because any man who has risked his life for his country and seen his friends killed around him must inevitably wonder why this has happened to him and most important, what good will it all do,” he wrote. “In their concern, and as a result of their interest, and because they wish above all else to spare their children and their brothers from going through the same hard times, it is perhaps natural that they should be disappointed with what they have seen in San Francisco. I suppose that this is inevitable. Youth is a time for direct action and simplification. To come from battlefields where sacrifice is the order of the day—to come from there to here—it is not surprising that they should question the worth of their sacrifice and feel somewhat betrayed.”24

A private letter to a wartime friend expanded the point, and spoke powerfully to Jack Kennedy’s overall worldview in that spring of 1945:

It would have been very easy to write a letter to you that was angry. When I think of how much this war has cost us, of the deaths of Cy and Peter and Orv and Gil and Demi and Joe and Billy and all those thousands and millions who have died with them—when I think of all those gallant acts that I have seen or anyone has seen who has been to war—it would be a very easy thing for me to feel disappointed and somewhat betrayed….

You have seen the battlefields where sacrifice was the order of the day and to compare that sacrifice to the timidity and selfishness of the nations gathered at San Francisco must inevitably be disillusioning….

Things cannot be forced from the top. The international relinquishing of sovereignty would have to spring from the people—it would have to be so strong that the elected delegates would be turned out of office if they failed to do it….We must face the truth that the people have not been horrified by war to a sufficient extent to force them to go to any extent rather than have another war….War will exist until that distant day when the conscientious objector enjoys the same reputation and prestige that the warrior does today.25

At the midpoint of the conference, Jack gloomily predicted that “the world organization that will come out of San Francisco will be the product of the same passions and selfishness that produced the Treaty of Versailles.” The larger countries in particular were not about to cede their sovereignty to any supranational organization. And later, on May 23, he criticized the veto power being granted to the five major powers on the Security Council: “Thus, any of the Big Five can effectively veto assistance for an attacked nation. With this grave weakness in the new world organization, it is little wonder that the smaller countries have attempted to make treaties with the neighbors for protection against aggressors.”26

He jotted in his notebook, with respect to the UN:

Danger of too great a build-up.

Mustn’t expect too much.

A truly just solution will leave every nation somewhat disappointed.

There is no cure all.27

The young reporter worked diligently by day, but, true to form, he shifted gears in the evenings, taking full advantage of the social opportunities at the conference. On at least one occasion, the fun interfered with the job. Arthur Krock described the scene one evening at the Palace Hotel, with Jack propped up on his bed in his tuxedo, ready for the evening’s festivities, “a highball in one hand and the telephone receiver in the other. To the operator he said, ‘I want to speak to the Managing Editor of the Chicago Herald American.’ (After a long pause) ‘Not in? Well, put someone on to take a message.’ (Another pause) ‘Good. Will you see that the boss gets this message as soon as you can reach him? Thank you. Here’s the message: Kennedy will not be filing tonight.’ ”28

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