The lamps in the Oval Office burned dimly, their light flickering against a haze of cigarette smoke and exhaustion.
The room was silent save for the low hum of the ventilation and the shuffle of papers that carried the scent of ink, oil, and bad news.
President Franklin Delano Roosevelt sat behind his desk, hands clasped together, staring at a single folder that had already been read through a dozen times.
Luzon lost.
Palawan fallen.
Communications severed.
Casualties unacceptable.
He did not need to open it again.
The words had already carved themselves into his mind.
He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling upward into the darkness above him.
Across the room, General Douglas MacArthur stood by the window, the silhouette of his cap catching the faint reflection of the flag outside.
For a long time neither man spoke.
Finally, Roosevelt broke the silence.
"Tell me, General… how does a fortress like Luzon fall in three days?"
MacArthur did not turn immediately.
