The baron motioned his unexpected guests to two chairs, then slumped into one himself opposite them, a devastated look on his face from the blow of McCallum’s words.

It was exactly two weeks since Dortmann and McCallum had seen one another. Great Britain and France had formally declared war on Germany on September 3, followed by Australia, New Zealand, India, South Africa, and finally Canada.

The dawn invasion two days later of the German Luftwaffe sliced into Poland in a dozen places—through East Prussia, Pomerania, Brandenburg, and Silesia—and was aimed directly at the heart of Poland. A million men—forty-seven divisions, nine armored divisions, and fifteen hundred planes—were mounted for the surprise and treacherous assault. The Polish forces were hopelessly outmatched, and resistance collapsed within a week.

The Second World War had begun.

Though the United States would officially remain neutral for more than two years, realistic neutrality was impossible. McCallum and much of the rest of the diplomatic staff had been summoned back to Washington for high-level meetings, briefings, and discussions.

“When do you leave, Thaddeus?” asked the baron at length.

“In two days. But seeing you, and trying to persuade you to come with us, has been one of the highest-priority items on our agenda—speaking for both my son and myself. That is why we drove out here at the absolute soonest possible opportunity.”

Again Baron von Dortmann was silent and thoughtful. He glanced down at his watch. He was obviously moved by their concern and care.

“The day is already well advanced,” he said. “You will stay the night?”

McCallum nodded. “But we must be off again for Berlin in the morning. We fly out the day after that.”

“Then we must make use of every possible minute,” said the baron, rising. “I will find Marion and Sabina. Why don’t the two of you go down to the Gute Stube? We’ll meet you there shortly and discuss this all together.”

He disappeared from the room.

An hour later the five friends were deep in thought. The baron had told his wife and daughter of McCallum’s offer to take them out of the country before the ugly prospects of the war overtook them.

Thaddeus had been bending his best diplomatic eloquence to the task of persuading his friends that it was in their best interest to leave Germany, if not for the United States, then for England or Switzerland.

“But… this is our home, Thaddeus,” each of the three Germans had said, in a dozen different ways. “Our home, our country, our people.”

“Don’t you realize what is at stake?” the American had implored.

The baron and his wife looked at each other. Their expressions seemed to say that they did know, perhaps even more intimately than they could let on, exactly what the cost of remaining in Germany might be.