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They arrived in a convoy of town cars that snaked down a private driveway and deposited them outside Truman Hall, a white-brick house set on 27 acres of gardens and hazelnut groves. Originally built by a Belgian chocolatier, the estate was sold to the American government at a discount—a thank-you gift for liberating Europe—and became the residence of the U. Tonight, Julianne Smith, the inexhaustibly cheerful diplomat who currently holds the job, was stationed at the front door, greeting each guest.
The reception was part of a two-day onslaught of ceremonial activity ostensibly organized to celebrate the 75th anniversary of NATO.
There were photo ops and triumphant speeches. At Truman Hall, every effort was made to keep the mood festive despite a storm looming outside. Stoltenberg, lean and unrumpled, decided to do something diplomatically unorthodox: acknowledge reality. The wind was picking up outside, pounding the flaps of the tent and making it difficult to hear. Stoltenberg raised his voice.
A strong gust hit the tent, rattling the light trusses above. Guests glanced around nervously. Stoltenberg stumbled. Another gust, and the large chandelier hanging over the crowd began to swing. Murmurs rippled through the audience. Stoltenberg, perhaps aware of the unfortunate symbolism that would result from a NATO tent collapse, got quickly to the point.