Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

10. ''We Shall Fight on the Beaches''

June 4, 1940

The White House

Washington, D.C., United States

"...Prove ourselves once more able to defend our island home—to ride out the storm of war, and to outlive the menace of tyranny. If necessary, for years. If necessary...alone."

Winston Churchill's voice was grave. We sat in front of the television set in the Executive Residence as we listened to the British Prime Minister's speech. Following his report on the successful evacuation of British and French forces from Dunkirk, he laid out the dire reality of the situation. France would soon fall under the control of Nazi Germany, just like Poland, Denmark, Norway, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg before them.

I glanced at President Roosevelt. His eyes were plastered to the screen as he held his wife's hand in a knuckle-white grip.

"...The British Empire and the French Republic, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death their native soil. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields, and in the streets. We shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender."

 I let my eyes fall to the floor. The shores of Great Britain hadn't been under threat since the days of Napoleon.

"And even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World—with all its power and might—steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the Old."

He means us.

My eyes shot to the President.

He was already looking at me, with all my fears written on his face.

The President called an emergency meeting of his Cabinet to discuss our continued neutrality. Was it feasible to maintain as the war in Europe worsened astronomically? US soil was not under threat, not even a whisper of a threat. I listened silently as they debated. My thoughts slipped through my mind like sand between my fingers.

"Madam? Call waiting from London."

My stomach twisted into knots.

I stared at the telephone for several minutes. The duel between care and indifference raged inside of me. On one hand, I wanted to raise the sword of justice—on the other, I wanted to remain behind the safety of the walls.

I hesitantly picked up the telephone. "England, I—" My voice hitched, and I swallowed.

"Amérique..."

The voice, broken and weak, sent me reeling back into my seat. Shame burned through me. "France," I breathed out. "Oh, God, France..."

A quiet whimper revealed that he was weeping.

I covered my face with my hand. "France, C—Congress will send more money, arms, supplies...whatever you need," I said, my voice cracking.

Silence.

I winced in frustration, knowing exactly what he wanted me to say. What he needed me to say. I pressed my fist into my forehead until my skull ached.

"You are so lucky," he finally said, causing my eyes to snap open. "Across the sea..."

"France..." Tears gathered in my eyes. "I am s—so sorry—"

Clunk.

I listened to the dial tone in complete shock. After a while, a series of harsh beeps made me pull the telephone away from my ear. My limp hand dropped it onto the receiver.

I sat still for a very, very long time.