William’s thoughts had just turned to what he should try to do differently in the following year when Barbara Morton’s familiar knock signaled that the team had assembled for the briefing by Lanier Parks. The door to the Oval Office opened, and William greeted each of them in turn.
As they sat down in front of the fireplace, where a roaring fire provided some extra warmth against the sudden chill, William said, “We’re closing in on the end of our first year. Before we hear from Lanier on the Russians, I just want to say we all know that we’ve taken our lumps on our domestic agenda this year. But in foreign policy I think we’ve presented a balanced approach. I appreciate your hard work, Sandy, and I hope you and Lanier can give us some initiatives for next year that will build on this year’s accomplishments. During the next two weeks I’d like all of you to please have your teams put together some brainstorming ideas which we can look at before Christmas, so we can hit the ground running after the holidays and include many of your initiatives in the State of the Union address in January.”
It was Barbara’s longstanding custom to wait by the open door of the Oval Office until a meeting actually began, in case her boss or another participant had a last minute request. As the group settled in she was about to leave when Bob Horan took a half step into the office. Everyone seated around the coffee table looked in his direction.
Smiling, he said, “Hey, you folks, I’ve got some good news!”
Silence and blank stares greeted his announcement. Horan took a few steps into the office but remained by the door in deference to the imminent start of their meeting. “The Supreme Court just overturned the Utah state law against polygamy.”
“What?” William asked.
“Yeah, it’s great. You know, the case has been around for several years. That Mr. Nelson, a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints—a Mormon—sued the state, claiming his religion allowed for more than one wife, and he didn’t want the state to prohibit the lifestyle he wanted. He lost in the local court and in the federal appeals court. But in a five to four decision, with our two appointees carrying the majority, the Supreme Court just overturned the law and ruled that polygamy can’t be outlawed.”
Everyone was shocked. William sat back in his chair, stunned. Jerry Richardson asked, “How? On what grounds?”
Obviously delighted, Horan explained, “We don’t have the entire opinion yet, but apparently it’s based on two key points. First, on the First Amendment’s separation of church and state. The majority opinion agreed that the state should not interfere with Mr. Nelson’s religious beliefs. And here’s the best! The court said it was continuing its tradition of overturning laws based solely on the Bible. Apparently when the law was last tested in the late nineteenth century, the Supreme Court at that time cited the Bible and the Christian character of our nation—whatever that is—to rule in favor of it. But today the Court ruled that civil law cannot be based on religious law. They saw it as a simple argument between two religions and ruled that the state had no right to interfere. Isn’t that great? Our two guys helped overturn an old biblical myth. With this opening, think of the other laws we can change!”
William listened to what Horan had to say, but said nothing himself, a look of disbelief on his face. It was the vice president who spoke first.
“You mean one man can now have more than one wife?” she asked.
“I guess so,” the speechwriter answered. “And, although it’s not strictly part of the ruling, I imagine one woman can have more than one husband. And maybe we gays with more than one partner will stop being hassled. To think this administration is already having such an important and long-lasting impact.”
But the vice president obviously was not happy. “I don’t think it’s so great. The adolescent fantasy of every man is now legal? To have a harem? In America? You know men will take advantage of this far more than women, and because of past economic exploitation, men more than women have the means to do it. This is terrible for women! How could the Supreme Court do this? Our nominees voted for this?”
“Yes...hey, I thought you’d be happy. We’ve struck another blow for human reason against bigoted religious absolutes!”
“You mean another blow for male exploitation of women!”
Horan, flustered and obviously not expecting this reaction from the vice president, looked bewildered and turned to the president for help.
William Harrison still had not moved since the original announcement; he hardly seemed to have blinked. Still looking straight ahead, he asked in a quiet voice, “Patricia, why do you think men will take advantage of this more than women?”
The vice president opened her mouth to answer, then reconsidered. They could see she was thinking. “Because men are different from women. Women are just more loyal and monogamous by nature. It’s obvious.”
“Thanks. It’s not really on the subject, but I thought I heard you imply for once that men and women are different, and I just wanted to be sure I had understood you correctly. On the real issue, it’s incredible to me that our Supreme Court, which until just a few years ago deferred to the Bible as its ultimate authority on all our laws, now throws out any law that derives its precedents from that same document! Don’t the justices know that virtually every law we have comes from the Bible? I guess it was ominous when the chief justice had the Ten Commandments erased from behind their chairs three summers ago because some lawyer was offended.”
Now Bob Horan was really surprised. “You mean you think our laws ought to be founded on the Bible? Why, the Bible is anti-women and anti-gays. When did you suddenly get excited about that old book?”
William turned to face the younger man. “It’s a long story, Bob; I’ll be glad to share it with you sometime. But rather than argue what you just said, let me simply say you’re wrong. The Bible is against sin, not against people. Ironically, Patricia and I have reached the same conclusion about this ruling: it’s terrible for women. But, unlike her, I also think it’s terrible for men, children, families, everyone. We unhitched ourselves from the Bible’s moral absolutes a few years ago, not realizing where it would so quickly lead. Well, today we’re starting to see the mess we’ve made.”
“I just don’t understand this place sometimes,” Horan said under his breath, as he turned to leave. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”
“No, thanks, Bob,” the president managed to smile. “We needed to know. Now, I know this is very unusual, but,” and he looked around at his foreign policy team, “Russia and the Pacific Rim will have to wait a little while. Barbara, can we reschedule this meeting for later this afternoon? Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to handle something else. I’m sorry, but we’ll start again at five. Thanks.”
The vice president left quickly, heading for her office and a telephone. The others filed out, talking among themselves about the latest news from the nation’s highest court. Barbara Morton gave William a questioning look, and he said, “Give me about half an hour.”
When everyone had left, he closed the door, walked to the middle of the Oval Office, dropped to his knees, and after a moment, for the first time in his life, fell forward, prostrate on his face before the Lord God Almighty.
O God what have I done? he prayed What more will these Supreme Court nominees do to dishonor you? How can they say your law is not our one true source, when all of the nation’s first lawmakers and judges looked primarily to the Bible for legal authority? O God, forgive me. Forgive us. Help us, dear God. We are cast completely adrift. And without your law to guide us, what will be our laws? Who will decide what’s right and wrong? Will it change every few months? O God, how can a nation survive like that? I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, heavenly Father. I didn’t know what I was doing. I see everything so differently now. Please help me and guide me to do the right thing for this nation and these people. Help me learn how to stop the destruction of families which so obviously hurts the very women and children who some scream need more rights... O Go
d, please, please help us. Heal us, heavenly Father. Please heal our nation.”
William stayed like that, on the floor of the Oval Office, for almost thirty minutes, humbling himself before his Creator, asking for forgiveness and guidance, deeply disturbed about the state of the nation.
ATLANTA—“Sally, hey, this is Eunice.”
“Hi. How are you?” Sally Kramer answered.
“Okay. I guess. How are you?”
“Fine. Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”
“I guess. But I’m worried about Christmas,” Eunice answered. “I want my kids to have a good Christmas, but...”
“It’s expensive, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about... Listen, was that doctor serious about us maybe doing that again?”
“Yes. I’m working with two others—plus myself—and he asked about you the other day, how you’re doing.”
“Is he still offering the same five thousand dollars?”
“Yes. The same.”
“Well, if I agreed now to do another one, soon, say after the first of the year, do you think he could advance me a little toward the thousand up front?”
“How much?”
“Oh, I was thinking maybe five hundred, just so I could get the kids something nice for Christmas. And some winter coats.”
“Well, I doubt he’d do it for most women, but maybe I can talk him into it for you, since you’ve done so well in the past.”
Eunice laughed. “Yeah, I can’t do much, but I guess I can carry a baby!”
“Any problem getting pregnant?”
She laughed again. “No, not hardly.”
“Well, I’ll check with the doctor and call you back.”
“I’d sure appreciate it, Sally, and so would my kids.”
THE CENTRAL MEDITERRANEAN—The sunlight was fading in the area south of Italy where the Fortson was operating with the aircraft carrier Eisenhower, three other U.S. ships, an Italian cruiser, and two Russian guided-missile frigates.
The group was in its third day of joint operations, and to give the air wing a rest for maintenance, the surface warfare admiral assumed overall command that afternoon while the ships practiced tactical maneuvers under conditions of radio and radar silence. This meant that their close screening formations around the aircraft carrier were designated by signal flags or flashing lights alone. Each ship’s bridge and signal bridge had to be alert to read the codes quickly and then execute the formation changes precisely on time. Clipping along at over twenty knots, only a thousand yards apart, the big gray ships appeared to maneuver in graceful formations like motorboats, but the turning diameter for even the smallest one was over eight hundred yards. And the Eisenhower, at over ninety thousand tons and a thousand feet, was a huge structure blasting through the water at the center of the formation with little room for error.
The maneuvers had been going on all afternoon, giving the Russians plenty of practice with the formation codes of their new allies. Each captain had used the opportunity for his junior watch officers to observe and then to practice sending the screening ships to different locations around the carrier.
On the Portion the regular afternoon split watch from 1600 to 1800 had assumed its duty on the bridge and in the combat information center on time, and the last of the extra maneuvering practitioners had departed the bridge by 1715 to grab an early supper before the watch changed again at 1800. The admiral on the carrier had designated the drills to continue until 1730, when the last of the winter sunlight would be gone, so the final maneuvers were being handled by Lt. Henry Early as officer of the deck and Lt. Teri Slocum as junior officer of the deck. Captain Robertson had been on the bridge all afternoon while his junior officers practiced, but he knew that Lt. Early was an experienced ship handler, and since he had several messages to answer, he left the bridge and descended one level to his cabin, confident that the next fifteen minutes would be uneventful. All the rest of the ship’s officers were either on duty or eating supper in the wardroom.
Above Henry and Teri, on the starboard side of the exposed deck over the bridge, two missile fire control technicians were putting the finishing touches on their afternoon’s work, taking advantage of the group’s radar silence to perform some much needed maintenance on the coupler between the main computer and the number one fire control radar.
Fire Control Technician Petty Officer First Class Margaret “Maggie” Simpson, the tall, twenty-five-year-old strawberry-blond woman who had followed Teri Slocum in high school, was bent over the computer coupler. She was trying to push a heavy drawerful of electronic equipment back into its housing so that she could secure it and be done; but for some reason the drawer was sticking on its runners and wouldn’t budge despite Maggie’s considerable strength.
Watching her and trying to be helpful was Fire Control Technician Third Class Alice Pritchard, who had been learning from her friend and mentor all afternoon. This was their final job, but it had taken longer than expected because they had had to stop and seek refuge behind the radar itself whenever the ship’s maneuvers brought them directly into the stiff wind so that the ship’s speed made the wind across the deck almost fifty knots.
Alice Pritchard had grown up in a broken and unhappy home. Petite and weighing at most ninety pounds when soaking wet, she tended to be shy and withdrawn. She had joined the navy out of desperation two years earlier, right out of high school, after eating like a horse for a month to pass the minimum weight test. Unfortunately, her naval experience had been going nowhere fast when she met Maggie Simpson at a missile school and then was transferred with her to the Fortson. The older woman had taken the younger one under her wing, and immediately they had become fast friends, despite their differences in size, background, and personality.
This day was no exception, and Maggie had spent the afternoon showing Alice how to perform the precise maintenance required on the fire control equipment. But they were being pushed to finish by the fading sunlight and the dropping temperature. At that moment the ship was running exactly downwind, so they were working in an eerie calm. But the women knew the ship’s course would change again soon, and Maggie swore out loud with her good-natured smile as she pushed again on the unmoving drawer.
One level down, on the bridge, Lt Early was conning the ship from the starboard bridge wing, as the eight screening ships ran together in a tight circle, only a thousand yards separating each of them from the carrier. The Fortson occupied the two o’clock position in the circle. The signalman had just brought Early the decoded message to turn right and take a new position directly behind the carrier, once the maneuver was executed. Early showed the message to Teri Slocum and asked her to stay on the starboard wing, since they would be turning right, while he crossed to the port wing to watch for the execution signal from the carrier.
A minute later, when the execution flag dropped, Early saw it in his binoculars and shouted to the seaman holding the wheel, known as the helmsman, “Right standard rudder.”
The young helmsman who had nervously but correctly performed the critical maneuvering drills for almost two hours now made a mistake. All afternoon the OOD himself had been the visual guard on the turning side; this time Teri Slocum was silently performing that duty on the right bridge wing. Although he repeated Early’s command, “Right standard rudder, Aye, sir,” the tired seaman unthinkingly turned the wheel toward Early’s voice, to the left.
Henry, watching through his binoculars the carrier’s huge shape off their port quarter, didn’t pick up the direction of their own rudder movement for a few seconds, until Teri yelled, “That’s right standard rudder!”
The helmsman, obviously flustered, looked quickly at Teri, then at the rudder indicator. He mistakenly turned the wheel even more to the left, then back to the right, and finally looked over to where Henry Early was standing, while the Fortson wound up on a course taking her directly in front of the carrier, its massive shape already looming large through the bridge window
s.
In the next instant, twenty-four year old Henry Early had to make a decision. He realized that they had gone too far left to turn back. If they did so, they stood a good chance of being sliced in half in a matter of seconds. He made his decision.
“Increase your rudder to left full! Port shaft emergency back full! Sound the collision alarm!”
This time there were no mistakes. The rudder swung very slowly, it seemed, toward full left, and the engine room watch officer followed the command signaled to him from the bridge by instantly dumping high pressure steam into the reversing turbine on the port propeller. Meanwhile the mate of the watch pulled the handle for the collision alarm, sending a high pitched, wailing siren throughout the ship, punctuated by the mate’s voice over the ship’s announcing system yelling, “This is NOT a drill! This is NOT a drill! All hands prepare for a collision! This is NOT a drill!”
The Fortson had been steaming at over twenty knots. The combination of the full left rudder and the backing port propeller caused her to heel over severely to starboard, as Lt. Early prayed their tight turn would be enough to save them. One level below the bridge the captain’s messages slid off his table, and those officers sitting on the starboard side of the wardroom table wound up with all the evening’s dinners and drinks in their laps. Their television fell out of its recessed shelf and crashed to the deck, and the collision alarm sounded.
All hands rushed to shut and latch down the hatches and watertight doors belowdecks, while the captain did his best with the severely angled deck to reach the ladder leading to the bridge.
On the upper level, as the turn began, Maggie Simpson, who had been pushing against the drawer, suddenly found herself falling backward on the rapidly inclining deck. Involuntarily she held onto the equipment drawer’s handles, but with the force of the turn she and the drawer slid down and back. The drawer jumped its track and came off in her hands just as the deck approached forty degrees, and she fell on her back. The force of the fall and the extra weight of the drawer propelled her down the incline toward the edge of the deck, and she started to yell as she realized she was about to slide under the guardrail.
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