Let's see . . .
Adolf is going to think he's done for Stalin, so he won't feel any compunction about declaring war on the U.S. on the eleventh. So there's that.
Order Ernie King to start coastal convoys. If he doesn't, make him commander of the coastal defense of Wyoming.
Hold off on relieving Husband Kimmel until after Wake is reinforced. Have one of my well-to-do friends give him a pension to make up for what he loses by having to retire at a lower rank. Short, on the other hand, should be busted to Second Lieutenant and assigned to the latrine detail in Alaska.
Propose to WSC that MacArthur be made C-in-C ABDA land forces. So he will have to leave the Philippines for first Java, then Australia. Butter up Mac's ego and he won't be talking with untrustworthy people like Wood and Lindbergh.
Put Bill Donovan in charge of the Army Special Forces and restructure the Office of the Coordinator of Information into a real espionage outfit, not a Captain Midnight bang and boom bunch.
In 1942 we say "Unconditional Surrender for the Nazis, Fascists, and General Tojo's gang. We are not the enemies of the German, Italian, and Japanese people, but their leaders are driving them to death and destruction."
Stalin was doing that, after all.
Oh, and speaking of Stalin, ask J. Edgar to look into some dubious characters who slid into the government through the New Deal agencies. This fellow from the Nye Commission, or that assistant at Treasury who wants to devastate Germany . . .
By now butterflies should be making all the campaigns go differently, but we'll assume that it's 1943 and we're meeting with WSC to plan the liberation of mainland Europe. It would be nice if it were this year but no can do.
"Winnie, General Eisenhower thinks the world of your General Alexander. He seems to get along with everybody, even George Patton. I think he would be the best British Liberation Army commander we can have."
Thus relegating Montgomery to the Italian campaign, where he can make fewer people mad at him.
It's July 1944. Perhaps things have changed, but if Adolf is dead, then the Nazis are going to be tearing each other apart. If Fat Herman or True Heinrich gets into authority, he still won't have the gravitas the Führer had, and while the Krauts are clawing each other we can push our way forward. And if the bomb-planters succeed . . . they at least know they're whipped.
But by now I know my time is up. In December, I say, "I appreciate the endorsement of the American People but my doctors say I cannot function properly for the end of the war against Nazi and Japanese tyranny. Therefore, I request that the electors of the Democratic Party, pledged to me, to vote for Senator Truman for President and Judge Byrnes as Vice-President. These fine Democrats have committed themselves to winning the war and to extending and completing the work of the New Deal, policies that all Americans, whatever their party, can wholeheartedly support. Far better for an orderly transition of power than a sudden one. May God bless America."
Then off to Warm Springs to live and perhaps die in Lucy Mercer's er Eleanor's arms . . .