The Pentagon said the Vietcong forces had been repelled, but George did not believe it.

The newscaster said further major attacks were expected tomorrow.

George said to Verena: “I wonder what this will do for Gene McCarthy’s campaign?”

• • •

Beep Dewar persuaded Walli Franck to make a political speech.

At first he refused. He was a guitar player, and he feared he would make a fool of himself, like a senator singing pop songs in public. But he came from a political family, and his upbringing would not allow him to be apathetic. He remembered his parents’ scorn for those West Germans who failed to protest about the Berlin Wall and the repressive East German government. They were as guilty as the Communists, his mother said. Now Walli realized that if he turned down a chance to speak a few words in favor of peace, he was as bad as Lyndon Johnson.

Plus he found Beep pretty much irresistible.

So he said yes.

She picked him up in Dave’s red Dodge Charger and drove him to Gene McCarthy’s San Francisco campaign headquarters, where he talked to a small army of young enthusiasts who had spent the day knocking on doors.

He felt nervous when he stood up in front of the audience. He had prepared his opening line. He spoke slowly, but informally. “Some people told me I should stay out of politics because I’m not American,” he said in a conversational tone. Then he gave a little shrug and said: “But those people think it’s okay if Americans go to Vietnam and kill people, so I guess it’s not so bad for a German to come to San Francisco and just talk . . .”

To his surprise there was a howl of laughter and a round of applause. Maybe this would be all right.

Young people had been flocking to support McCarthy’s campaign since the Tet Offensive. They were all neatly dressed. The boys were clean shaven and had midlength hair. The girls wore twinsets and saddle shoes. They had changed their appearance to persuade voters that McCarthy was the right president not just for hippies but for middle Americans too. Their slogan was: “Neat and clean for Gene.”

Walli paused, making them wait, then he touched his shoulder-length blond locks and said: “Sorry about my hair.”

They laughed and clapped again. This was just like show business, Walli realized. If you were a star, they would love you just for being more or less normal. At a Plum Nellie concert, the audience would cheer wildly at literally anything Walli or Dave said into the microphone. And a joke became ten times as funny when told by a celebrity.

“I’m not a politician, I can’t make a political speech . . . but I guess you guys hear as many of those as you want.”

“Right on!” shouted one of the boys, and they laughed again.

“But I have some experience, you know? I used to live in a Communist country. One day the police caught me singing a Chuck Berry song called ‘Back in the USA.’ So they smashed up my guitar.”