by Stan Mason
‘This is not the President, Colonel!’ The interruption was austere. ‘I’m afraid the President’s indisposed at the moment.’
‘Indisposed?’ echoed Baker with surprise creeping into his voice. ‘Look, I need to speak with the President right away. I repeat... right away! I don’t think you understand. We have a possible national emergency on our hands here!’
‘Your request is denied, Colonel. As I said, it’s not possible to speak with the President. If you want to discuss the problem with me I’ll see what I can do.’
‘The agitated senior officer blinked with incredulity. ‘You’ll see what you can do? What the hell’s going on there? Who are you anyway?’
‘Sam Winchester. Chief Adviser to the President. And you’re right. It’s hell up here at the present time. All I tell you, Colonel, is that the President suffered a massive stroke about ten minutes ago. He’s on his way to hospital in a coma. We don’t even know whether he’ll last the night, let alone determine when he’ll be able to talk with you.’
‘Damn!’ blasphemed Baker, hesitating as the implications filtered into his mind. On matters of emergency, he had been trained to contact the President personally and directly. The absence of the President was difficult for him to accept. It cut across all the rules on security. ‘Look, Winchester, let’s get this clear! This is a matter of national security! It’s top priority! We’re looking at a number of unidentified flying objects on our radar screen here... maybe Soviet, Iraqi, Iranian, or who the hell knows from where! They’re coming across the Atlantic towards the eastern shore. Dammit! This is a Presidential red ‘phone communication! The security of this country could be at risk.’ He paused for a moment to rethink the situation. ‘O.K.,’ he began again slowly, ‘If the President’s not available you’d better get hold of the Vice-President fast! I must speak with him right away. I repeat... right away!’
‘I’m sorry but that’s not possible either,’ returned Winchester. ‘He’s slipped his security guard.’
The Colonel paused to absorb the information. ‘I don’t understand. What does that mean?’
He’s on a fishing trip at Lake Tahoe. But don’t worry we should locate him soon. Colonel, I hope this is not a war game. Our hands are full. We’re in no position to be involved with war games!’
‘He’s at Lake Tahoe and he’s slipped his security guard?’ Baker’s mind froze at the stunning revelation.
‘It’s his wedding anniversary. He told us he wanted to be alone with his wife on this occasion. So he booked in at a hotel somewhere under an assumed name. We have men searching for him now.’
The senior officer replaced the receiver as the blood ran cold in his veins. The series of events was beginning to scare him but his training stood him in good stead. He secured the lock on the red telephone carefully before turning to Taggart, trying not to draw attention to his concern. ‘We have a series of unprecedented problems at the highest level, Taggart,’ he began.
His subordinate looked at him in an old-fashioned way. ‘Problems, sir?’
‘The President is in a coma in hospital, the Vice-President is on holiday at a secret location at Lake Tahoe, and it looks as though we have a national emergency on our hands. When they wrote the rule book they had no idea this kind of situation would arise. You can quote me on that.’
‘What are you going to do, sir?’ Taggart looked to his superior for guidance.
The officer looked at him blankly for a moment. ‘We’re in free-fall on this one. I think I’d better go down to the Doomsday Room.’
‘But that’s against orders, sir.’
‘In normal circumstances, Taggart. But the situation is far from normal. Keep the commentary coming over the loudspeaker. I must be kept informed at all times.’ He stared once again at the radar screen and swallowed hard. ‘I want no errors. Do you hear me? There’s no room for any margin of error. Secure all quarters and declare Red Alert status. We may be talking nuclear war!’
‘Yes, sir!’ responded the Captain smartly. He turned to the microphone on the panel in front of him and switched it on. ‘Secure all quarters and systems! We have a one-zero-eight on our hands. This is an A-priority command. We are now on Red Alert status! This is not a drill! I repeat... this is not a drill!’ He pressed a red button on the panel to send the sound of a wailing siren howling throughout the Centre until the noise became almost deafening. Within seconds, uniformed men holding machine guns began to pour through the doorway to take up security positions in the massive room, and there was an air of tenseness as Taggart repeated the message.
‘And get hold of CAF-COM,’ instructed Baker, as the noise of the siren faded away. ‘If those objects are ICBMs and they come within two hundred miles of the coast, I want the U.S Air Force to take action. They might be able to tip those missiles with their wings to divert them into the sea, or they can blow the damned things out of the sky before they get here. Either way, we don’t want them to reach the coast.’
He left the room and walked down the corridor to the elevator. Pressing the call button, he waited for the lift to arrive. The doors opened shortly and he descended into the bowels of the earth to a lower floor level. Then, walking some distance along another corridor, he stopped in front of a door with the sign ‘Doomsday Room’ displayed in large letters. He was aware from the moment the President appointed him to this task there was a possibility he may have to enter this room during the assignment, remote as it seemed at the time. The President had been quite clear that, if the spectre of nuclear war presented itself at any time and the peaceful status of the United States was endangered, Baker would have to come here to carry out the President’s instructions in the name of national security. The Colonel had accepted the post after evaluating all the reasons. He believed with conviction that peace would prevail... at least over the next six months... the duration of his assignment. Secondly, in the event of war, he was positive that all armies would fight conventionally, especially as most countries were unable to develop nuclear weapons to any major extent. In his opinion, the prospect of nuclear war was so remote it would never fall to him to stand outside this door in a critical situation let alone have to enter the room. How wrong could one be! His presence here was no longer a distant fear... it was a fact! He selected another key from the bunch, opened the door, and switched on the light. It was a dingy room without a window. The air was dull, dry, with an acrid smell. It was extremely unpleasant. He entered and locked the door behind him, experiencing an air of claustrophobia for a few moments. He felt lost and concerned at being unable to reach either the President or his second-in-command. Yet there was still one more authority on whom he could rely. Reaching for the receiver of a black telephone on the wall, he dialled a single digit number and waited for a response.
‘This is Colonel Baker at Control Systems Centre,’ he began, as someone answered at the other end of the line. ‘I want to speak with the Supreme Commander of the United States Forces immediately. We have a one-zero-eight and our status is Red Alert. This is not a drill!’
‘I’m sorry, Colonel,’ came the reply. ‘He’s not available.’
‘Can you be more specific?’ The senior officer felt his hackles rise as fear raced through his blood-stream. It was Murphy’s Law... if anything could go wrong it would go wrong. In this case, it was out of control.
‘He’s on a Grade A mission at present. We have instructions not to communicate with him for any reason whatsoever.’
‘Dammit! Didn’t you hear what I said? We have a Red Alert status here! I’ve got to speak with him immediately. Where is he?’
‘Sorry, Colonel. I can’t tell you that.’
‘Dammit! we have a major security crisis which could endanger the safety of the people of the United States. Now you tell me where he is or I’ll fall on you from a great height!’
‘Why don’t you contact the Pres
ident if it’s that serious?’
‘Because he’s in hospital... and the Vice-President’s not around either! Now are you going to tell me where he is or not?’
There was a long pause and then the man acceded to the demand. ‘He’s on his way to Central America on a secret mission. The communication code is G which means total radio silence. He can’t be reached. If you give me your number I’ll call you back as soon as contact is made.’
Baker replaced the receiver, shaking his head in disbelief. The United States, the major power in the whole wide world, was possibly under attack from its enemies and no one could reach anyone in authority at the top! He turned the switch on the loudspeaker affixed to the wall to listen to the commentary of the Radar Controller.
‘Colonel, we’ve received a message from Radio Signal Section. They advise that no status report is available at this time. We can’t tell if the objects on the screen are rockets. And we can’t identify where they originated. I’m afraid we’re completely in the dark. We can only observe that a foreign country or agency somewhere in Eastern Europe, the Middle East or Asia has fired a group of missiles, possibly armed with nuclear warheads, which are about to move across the Atlantic. Who knows? We may be looking at Chinese missiles launched from a site in Europe or just over the Asian border.’
The senior officer closed his eyes for a few seconds as if in silent prayer. Then, after a long pause, he searched for another key to unlock the cover of the metal desk in front of him. He lifted the lid until it rested against the wall panel. Inside the desk lay a red telephone and a unit covered with a transparent plastic lid. There was a large lock set in the front panel. Baker placed the keys down carefully and lifted the receiver of the red telephone to his ear. His hand began to tremble. ‘Is that you, Winchester?’ he asked as a voice responded at the other end of the line.
‘I’m still here, Colonel,’ replied the Chief Adviser to the President. ‘Nothing has changed. I have no further information on the condition of the President. He’s still in a coma.’
‘I’m afraid it’s necessary to report there has been a change,’ countered the senior officer. ‘You see, I’m in the Doomsday Room at Control Systems Centre. We have a top-level security problem here. One we call a one-zero-eight. If you don’t know what that means you’d better listen carefully to understand what’s happening. It looks as though a foreign country or agency has released a number of missiles, probably armed with nuclear warheads, which are moving across the Atlantic aimed at targets in the United States. If or when a crisis of this nature occurs, I must act directly on the orders of the President. There is no alternative plan. Dammit, we’re talking of nuclear war here, Winchester! I have to talk with the President or the person acting for him in his absence. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I understand you perfectly, Colonel, but you’re on a loser. We have our own crisis here. I told you of the condition of the President. We have security men all over Lake Tahoe searching for the Vice-President. There’s nothing more I can say. My information is that we expect to get hold of him any time now.’
‘Any time now?’ Baker began to lose his temper at the lack of co-ordination at high level. ‘That’s diplomatic crap, Winchester! We may all be in Hell in the next twenty minutes! We’re supposed to be the most efficient nation in the world yet at a time of state emergency there’s no one in charge of the damned country!’ He slammed the receiver down into its cradle and fixed his eyes firmly on the unit in front of him. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he inserted a key into lock to remove the cover. Inside the section was a small light covered by a plastic shield and a large red button beneath which was set another lock. Every effort had been made to ensure a fail-safe system. He selected a further key from the key-ring which he placed in the lock and the small light began to flash intermittently highlighting the worried features on his face. He had now crossed the final line of precaution. There were no more keys... no more locks! For years he had read reports in the Press or watched programmes on television about the danger of someone pressing the Doomsday button by accident to plunge the world into destruction. They had expressed their fears very broadly to the public stating categorically that too few people were involved in the programme which enhanced the risk of error. They followed up complaining that the decision-making process was inefficient or unsatisfactory. Well they were right on the first point. In truth, it boiled down to just one man who had to make the decision when the chips were down. And he was only an army officer... not the President, the Vice-President, a Senator or a senior government official. The same situation related to the second point. He would willingly have traded places with anyone else in the United States at that particular moment.
The Radar Controller’s voice broke into his thoughts as it boomed over the loudspeaker. ‘No change in direction. They’re still coming! Red Alert status continues!’
The Colonel found himself faced with an awful predicament. All the checks and counter-checks burned into his memory during a most austere training programme no longer existed. He was confused with regard to procedure in the absence of direction from the White House and, worst still, his presence in the Doomsday Room on his own account was a violation of authority. No senior officer had granted him permission to enter. He had done so of his own accord. His instructions, if the United States was threatened, were very simple. On the orders of the President... and of the President only... he was to enter that room and wait to be advised. If there was an attack by a foreign power the President would tell him whether to press the button or not. If he was ordered to do so, forty-four rockets armed with nuclear warheads would be despatched to predetermined targets in Eastern Europe, the Middle East and Asia. Some of these would be sent from sites located in different countries in Europe; others would be fired from submarines sailing in waters within easy reach of the target areas. In effect, pressing the red button would send a signal to specified senior officers throughout the world whose orders, on receiving the signal, were to execute the command of the President within one hundred and twenty seconds. In the remote possibility the command might need to be retracted, a further signal would be despatched to explode all missiles in the air before they reached their targets. If such an order were to be issued, however, it could only be achieved by means of an electronic instrument located in the President’s office at the White House... and he was the only person who had access to the codes by which to rescind the order. If the President was assassinated or unavoidably absent, the only other person authorised to have access to the codes was the Vice-President. In view of the absence of both men, Baker had to consider his actions with extreme care. If he decided that the unidentified objects on the radar screen were nuclear missiles and the intention of some foreign power was to attack the United States, any form of retaliation by him would be irrevocable. There was no one at the White House capable of rescinding the order.
The light continued to flash in front of him and he stared at the red button bleakly. Without doubt, this was the worst moment in his life. One small push and the world would be plunged into a nuclear war from which it might never recover. If he pressed the button it would mean death for millions of people... perhaps billions! There would be a debacle of titanic proportions from which would stem disease, hunger, pain and misery. The world might even cease to exist because of his action. Space travellers arriving on Planet Earth millions of years later would speculate how the destruction came about and wonder who had pressed the button to cause such horror. They would never recognise it was the fault of a man overtaken by a series of events beyond his control... a man unable to obtain guidance at a time of emergency.
‘Unidentified vehicles still maintaining their present course and speed,’ came the voice over the loudspeaker. ‘I’m now assessing time in relation to impact. CAF-COM are mobilising aircraft to counter the intruders and will remain in contact.’
Baker slid his fi
nger gently over the red button, almost as though under the influence of a death wish, before moving it away quickly. He pulled firmly at the cross held by a slender piece of string around his neck with the other hand, clutching the crucifix tightly until the metal bit into his palm. It had been a birthday present from his son when the boy was only ten years’ old and he would cherish it until the day he died. He drew in a deep breath and cleared his mind. In the absence of senior direction, he was in a position of control and began to think for himself. It was necessary to rearrange his thoughts as though he were the President himself. There was no alternative! If he, Colonel John Delaney Baker, had been elected President of the United States, what would be going through his mind? He pulled a wry face as he recognised the folly of such ideas. It was too fantastic to believe that anyone could think and act like the President when faced by such a major crisis. Then he shrugged his shoulders and considered the problem from another angle. If he, as Colonel Baker, decided that the objects identified on the radar screen were nuclear missiles released from a foreign power, what would be his honest view? Firstly, he would expect the enemy power to contact him if they had fired the rockets in error. After all, someone may have pressed their red button by accident. But there had been no such communication. Therefore, if the action was an intended nuclear attack, it was directed with meaningful purpose. Secondly, what would be the result when the warheads reached their targets in the United States? Death, destruction, a national emergency, looting, the need for medical help on a massive scale, the disruption of utilities, such as gas, electricity, water, and the telephone system. Thirdly, in military warfare, any attack demanded a counter-attack. Would retaliation by the United States be advisable, essential or necessary? After the assault, practically every nation in the world would alienate the perpetrator for inflicting such a horrific deed. They would be united against them for centuries when reflecting that the hostile action imperilled the planet and all human beings, flora and fauna. As far as America was concerned, any form of retaliation, by means of despatching forty-four nuclear warheads to key cities in Eastern Europe, the Middle East and Asia was totally insane. Whether the attack on the United States was intended or not, there was little point in adding to the horror by destroying more cities, killing more innocent people, and contaminating the rest of the world for generations to come. Baker recognised the insanity of seeking an eye for an eye or a tooth for a tooth when the future of the whole of humanity was at risk.