philip_k_dick_-_the_man_in_the_high_castle

His brothers had been killed in '44, strangled with wire by British commandos, the Long Range
Desert Group which had operated behind Axis lines and which had become especially fanatic
during the last phases of the war when it was clear that the Allies could not win.
'How do you feel about the British now?' she asked haltingly.
Joe said, 'I'd like to see them do to England what they did in Africa.' His tone was flat.
'But it's been — eighteen years,' Juliana said. 'I know the British especially did terrible things.
But — '
'They talk about the things the Nazis did to the Jews,' Joe said. 'The British have done worse. In
the Battle of London.' He became silent. 'Those fire weapons, phosphorus and oil; I saw a few of
the German troops, afterward. Boat after boat burned to a cinder. Those pipes under the water —
turned the sea to fire. And on civilian populations, by those mass fire-bombing raids that Churchill
thought were going to save the war at the last moment. Those terror attacks on Hamburg and Essen
and — '
'Let's not talk about it,' Juliana said. In the kitchen, she started cooking bacon; she turned on the
small white plastic Emerson radio which Frank had given her on her birthday. 'I'll fix you
something to eat.' She dialed, trying to find some light, pleasant music.
'Look at this,' Joe said. In the living room, he sat on the bed, his small suitcase beside him; he
had opened it and brought out a ragged, bent book which showed signs of much handling. He
grinned at Juliana. 'Come here. You know what somebody says? This man — ' He indicated the
book. 'This is very funny. Sit down.' He took hold of her arm, drew her down beside him. 'I want to
read to you. Suppose they had won. What would it be like? We don't have to worry; this man has
done all the thinking for us.' Opening the book, Joe began turning pages slowly. 'The British
Empire would control all Europe. All the Mediterranean. No Italy at all. No Germany, either.
Bobbiesand those funny little soldiers in tall fur hats, and the king as far as the Volga.'
In a low voice, Juliana said, 'Would that be so bad?'
'You read the book?'
'No,' she admitted, peering to see the cover. She had heard about it, though; a lot of people were
reading it. 'But Frank and I — my former husband and I — often talked about how it would have
been if the Allies had won the war.'
Joe did not seem to hear her; he was staring down at the copy of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy.
'And in this,' he went on, 'you know how it is that England wins? Beats the Axis?'
She shook her head, feeling the growing tension of the man beside her. His chin now had begun
to quiver; he licked his lips again and again, dug at his scalp . . . when he spoke his voice was
hoarse.
'He has Italy betray the Axis,' Joe said.
''Oh,' she said.
'Italy goes over to the Allies. Joins the Anglo-Saxons and opens up what he calls the 'soft
underbelly' of Europe. But that's natural for him to think that. We all know the cowardly Italian
Army that ran every time they saw the British. Drinking vino. Happy-go-lucky, not made for
fighting. This fellow — ' Joe closed the book, turned it around to study the back cover. 'Abendsen. I
don't blame him. He writes this fantasy, imagines how the world would be if the Axis had lost.
How else could they lose except by Italy being a traitor?' His voice grated. 'The Duce — he was a
clown; we all know that.'
'I have to turn the bacon.' She slid away from him and hurried back to the kitchen.