We batted this cosmic issue back and forth between the White House and the State Department. George Shultz said he thought that using first names was a good idea. Rozanne Ridgway, his assistant secretary of state for European affairs, disagreed. It was too early, Roz argued. Don’t force the intimacy. I sided with Roz. Glasnost or not, we were still dealing with a tough customer. Besides, it struck me as unseemly. Gorbachev was young enough to be Reagan’s son, and I was sure he would be uncomfortable calling the President of the United States “Ron.” As it turned out, during the summit, when Reagan did hazard “Mikhail” a couple of times, Gorbachev always came back with “Mr. President.”
We were going to Moscow with high hopes. On May 15, the Soviets had started to pull their troops out of Afghanistan. And during this summit, we expected to complete the nuclear arms reduction breakthrough. Reagan and Gorbachev had already signed the INF treaty. In the meantime, it had been approved by the Supreme Soviet Presidium, but still had to be ratified by the U.S. Senate. We expected approval, but not without a fight from conservatives, Republican and Democrat. The treaty was bitter for these people to swallow because we would have to give up some weapons and because a residue of distrust of the Soviet Union persisted. I became part of the administration’s sales staff, trying to promote the treaty to Senate hard-liners and fence-sitters.
On May 28, the day before our arrival in Moscow, while the presidential party was sloughing off jetlag in Finland, we got word that the Senate had ratified the treaty.
The next day, as Air Force One began to descend on Moscow, I made my way to the President’s private cabin. He had about thirty speaking occasions scheduled during this summit, and I wanted to go over the talking points for events on his immediate arrival. This was my last chance to catch him before he left the plane. I entered the cabin to find him sitting alone, looking out the window as we descended low enough to make out houses and farms on the Russian landscape.
“Look, there’s almost no traffic,” he said, barely acknowledging my presence.
“Mr. President, I wondered if you have any questions about your cards for the arrival statements,” I said, sitting down next to him. I started going over the cards, but he was not listening to me. By now, the flaps were dropping, the wheels were coming down for the landing, and I was getting panicky, especially when the President finally turned to me and said, “What were you saying?”
He was not concerned about my anxieties. He was finally seeing the “evil empire.” During the previous summit, he had wanted to fly Gorbachev across America so that he could show him our bustling highways and the factories pouring out consumer goods. To Ronald Reagan, the almost empty Russian roads symbolized the failure of communism. They reinforced his conviction that he had to help Gorbachev turn Soviet society in our direction.
Once we got on the ground and he stepped before the cameras and microphones, he was, as usual, letter-perfect.
During the first one-on-one meeting between Reagan and Gorbachev, the Soviet leader handed the President a draft statement. He suggested they include it when the time came to issue the final communiqué. Reagan read it and liked it. The language seemed unobjectionable: “… the two leaders believe that no problem in dispute can be resolved, nor should be resolved, by military force.” And “Equality of all states, noninterference in internal affairs and freedom of sociopolitical choice must be recognized as the inalienable and mandatory standards of international relations.” The President asked the staff to consider Gorbachev’s proposed language.
I, as a relative newcomer, saw nothing particularly dangerous in the statement. But the old Soviet hands in our delegation went through it like a bomb disposal unit defusing a booby trap. George Shultz and Roz Ridgway urged the President to say no. The statement was code language giving our unintended blessing to the Soviets to hold on to the Baltics—Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia—which we still did not concede as belonging to the Soviet Union. Underneath the appealing phrases, the statement said, essentially, what is yours is yours and what is ours is ours, and let’s stay off each other’s turf.
The matter had been set aside while we turned to other issues and memorable summit spectacles: Ronald Reagan at Spaso House, the American ambassador’s residence, listening to Russian dissidents courageous enough to come here and describe the oppressions they had suffered; the American President talking to students at Moscow University under a gigantic bust of Lenin; the President who had labeled the Soviet Union the “focus of evil in the modern world” standing shoulder-to-shoulder in Red Square with Mikhail Gorbachev.
Then, during the last working session in St. Catherine’s Hall, Gorbachev again shoved the suspect statement across the table to the President and urged him to accept it. The session was to end in minutes. Next door, in St. Vladimir’s Hall, a crowd had gathered and the media were setting up for coverage of the signing and the exchange between the two leaders of the INF treaty instruments of ratification.
Gorbachev pointed out to Reagan that this was the same language he had suggested when they met the first day. The President had liked it then, so why not sign now? The pitch was high, hard, right past the staff, and aimed at the President’s head. Reagan looked uncomfortable, which he was in improvised situations. Gorbachev suggested he talk the matter over with his advisors one last time.
The Russians went to their corner and we went to ours like seconds in a heavyweight match. What was so bad about this innocuous statement? the President asked. He and Gorbachev were getting along so well. Weren’t we here to promote peaceful relations? We repeated the arguments against, which the President accepted with a disappointed shrug, as we rejoined the Soviet group, where Gorbachev stood waiting and smiling. Reagan told Gorbachev that he did not have the support of his advisors. Gorbachev turned to us, the smile vanishing. What was the problem? Shultz explained our position. None of these objections made any sense, Gorbachev shot back, practically boring a hole through Reagan with his stare.
Until this moment, I had seen myself largely as an administrator, the guy who made the NSC trains run. I was not Henry Kissinger or Zbigniew Brzezinski, with their Ph.D.s and international relations backgrounds. But I did not like the inconclusive, teetering nature of this last-minute debate. The matter called for closure. Looking at Gorbachev, I said that this was not an issue to be resolved on the spur of the moment. He had his political problems at home, and we had ours. Our mutual interests would not be served if the President took back something that could divide his supporters at home. I spoke evenly and coolly, deliberately intending to cut off further discussion. Our advice to President Reagan was that he should not agree to this statement, I said.
Everyone was silent. Gorbachev looked around the circle. If this was what the President’s generals think, so be it, he said. With that, he led Reagan out of the room, saying, “Come, people are waiting for us.” They headed toward the lights and cameras in St. Vladimir’s Hall, where they signed the ratifying documents.
The previous December, in Washington, the two leaders had agreed on the INF treaty. Now, both their nations had agreed. The destruction of intermediate-range weapons could now begin, 1,500 on their side and 350 on ours—not so many, perhaps, given the total size of the arsenals, but a momentous beginning.
The mood aboard Air Force One was jubilant exhaustion as we flew out of Moscow. We had worked like dogs, and the President had made history. Someone had discovered that today was the birthday of Jim McKinney, who ran the White House Military Office and who had performed logistics miracles on the trip. The plane’s stewards somehow managed to produce a birthday cake to celebrate the event. I went forward to the private compartment and asked the President and First Lady to join us. We all gathered around and sang “Happy Birthday” to Jim. Several people seized the occasion to congratulate the President on his Moscow triumph. The plane was filled with White House aides whose sweat behind the scenes had made his victory possible. The moment cried out for the President to thank them and to
say, “I couldn’t have done it without you.” But he simply acknowledged the praises and said nothing more. Nor did Mrs. Reagan thank us.
A NEW CHALLENGE—NATIONAL SECURITY ADVISOR TO THE PRESIDENT
In the Rose Garden on November 5, 1987, the day I was announced as President Reagan’s choice to be the new National Security Advisor. Cap Weinberger (left) has just stepped down as Secretary of Defense and Frank Carlucci (right) has just been announced as his successor. Weinberger and Carlucci played crucial roles in carrying out Reagan’s vision for a restored and proud military force. The legendary Senator John C. Stennis, former chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, is in the rear.
IN THE THICK OF OUR ARMS-CONTROL PLANNING
The National Security Planning Group discusses an arms-control issue in the White House Situation Room in 1988. Clockwise around the table from President Reagan: George Shultz, Secretary of State; Jim Baker, Secretary of the Treasury; Jim Miller, Director of OMB; Howard Baker, Chief of Staff; me; Bill
Graham, Science Advisor to the President; Ken Adelman, Director of the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency; Admiral Bill Crowe, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; and Frank Carlucci, Secretary of Defense. Against the back wall are Assistant Secretary of State Rozanne Ridgway and Ambassador Paul Nitze.
In the Oval Office with President Reagan, July 1988. Apparently we had something to laugh about just before beginning a meeting.
SUMMIT MEETING WITH GORBACHEV
A tense moment in the Kremlin on May 30, 1988, during the Moscow summit. Presidents Reagan and Gorbachev are debating a last-minute change Gorbachev wants to make to the final summit communiqué. We were just about to adjourn to the next room for the two presidents to exchange the instruments of ratification for the INF Treaty, which would begin the destruction of nuclear weapons, reversing the Cold War arms race. Secretary of State George Shultz is on the far left. Jack Matlock, the U.S. ambassador to the Soviet Union, is on my right.
Tending to the press in the back of Air Force One on the way home from the NATO summit on May 3, 1988. Marlin Fitzwater, the President’s outstanding press secretary, is hovering over me in shirt sleeves.
I flew overnight from Geneva to meet with President Reagan at his ranch in the Santa Ynez Mountains outside Santa Barbara, California, on November 25, 1987. I have just briefed him on the INF Treaty, which Secretary Shultz had concluded with the Soviets the day before in Geneva.
IN THE CHAIR, IN THE FIELD—AND IN THE GALLEY
The Joint Chiefs of Staff at the time of Desert Storm. Left to right: Admiral Frank Kelso, Chief of Naval Operations; General Carl Vuono, Chief of Staff of the Army; me; Admiral David Jeremiah, Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; General Al Gray, Commandant of the Marine Corps; General Merrill “Tony” McPeak, Chief of Staff of the Air Force. We were a close-knit team with one job: help Norm Schwarzkopf win a war.
Swamped by marines and sailors aboard the amphibious ship U.S.S. Wasp, off the coast of Somalia on my birthday, April 5, 1993, during Operation Restore Hope. Pocket-sized cameras have converted the armed forces into an army of paparazzi photographers. I loved every minute of it.
A potato-peeling contest with my Soviet counterpart, General Mikhail Moiseyev, while visiting the galley aboard one of our ships in San Diego harbor in 1990. Guess who won.
SADDAM HUSSEIN INVADES KUWAIT AND WE PLAN OUR RESPONSE
With General H. Norman Schwarzkopf outside the Pentagon on August 15, 1990. We are waiting for President Bush to speak to a large crowd of Pentagon employees. Desert Shield has been under way for ten days and Norm would soon leave for Saudi Arabia to command the large force that was assembling in the Gulf.
BRIEFING THE PRESIDENT ON DESERT SHIELD
The date is September 24, 1990. I am briefing President Bush on the status of the two options available to him to deal with the Iraqis—sanctions or war. Others, left to right: Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney; National Security Advisor Brent Scowcroft; and Chief of Staff John Sununu.
“FIRST WE’RE GOING TO CUT IT OFF, AND THEN WE’RE GOING TO KILL IT”
I wasn’t aware of how often I used the “six gun” method of calling on reporters at Pentagon press briefings on the Gulf War until Saturday Night Live strung together about ten similar shots and added gunfire sound effects.
With our troops in the Gulf during Operation Desert Shield. Dick Cheney and I would spend time with Schwarzkopf and his staff, then fan out to visit units. The troops were glad to see us and they did wonders for our morale, too. They were the best and brightest of American youth.
Norm Schwarzkopf’s war room in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. At the table, left to right: Paul Wolfowitz, undersecretary of defense for policy; me; Dick Cheney; Schwarzkopf; Lieutenant General Cal Waller, deputy commander in chief of CENTCOM; and Major General Bob Johnston, CENTCOM Chief of Staff. Standing just behind us: Lieutenant General Walt Boomer, Marine Component Commander; Lieutenant General Charles “Chuck” Horner, Air Component Commander; Lieutenant General John Yeosock, Army Component Commander; Vice Admiral Stan Arthur, Navy Component Commander; and Colonel Jesse Johnson, Special Operating Forces Commander.
At the White House in January 1992, heading to the mansion from the Rose Garden, with President Bush and Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney. Admiral Dave Jeremiah, the very able Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, is in the rear between the President and Cheney.
PEOPLE AND PLACES
Visiting a school science lab in Annapolis in 1991.
Alma and I being received at an audience with Pope John Paul II in 1983.
At the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on Memorial Day, 1991, I talk to PFC Patrick McElrath, who was seriously injured in Panama during Operation Just Cause.
In front of the Buffalo Soldier statue at Fort Leavenworth on the day of its dedication in July 1992. This black 10th Cavalry trooper, with “U.S.” on his collar, eagles on his button, a coat of blue, and a rifle in hand, was every bit the equal of his white comrade and deserving of the same benefits of citizenship. He and thousands like him made the way easier for me.
In my office with the Harlem Globetrotters in March 1991. I needed help to spin the ball on my index finger.
FAMILY ALBUM
Alma, sponsor and mother of the U.S.S. Kearsarge, kisses her ship after christening her with a bottle of champagne in Pascagoula, Mississippi, in 1992. We took pride in the role of Kearsarge as the mother ship for the rescue of a downed pilot, Captain Scott O’Grady, in Bosnia in June 1995.
With Lieutenant Mike Powell in Germany in early 1986. His military career was ended a year later by a terrible jeep accident.
The most important people in my life in 1987, Annemarie, Mike, and Linda with Alma. Mike is slowly recovering from his accident and has to lean against the chair to stand up.
Powell family photo taken in Secretary Cheney’s office just before my welcoming ceremony as the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on October 3, 1989. Left to right: Dick Cheney; Norm and Marilyn Berns, my brother-in-law and sister; my son, Mike; Alma; me; daughters Linda and Annemarie; and my daughter-in-law, Jane, holding our grandson, Jeffrey.
WORKING WITH PRESIDENT CLINTON
President Clinton leaving the Pentagon escorted by me and Secretary of Defense Les Aspin after Clinton’s first visit on April 8, 1993. He met with the new civilian leaders of the Department of Defense and the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
In the East Room of the White House on September 19, 1994. President Jimmy Carter, Senator Sam Nunn, and I have just returned from Haiti, where we persuaded the illegal Haitian military government to step down and accept the arrival of U.S. forces and the return of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. President Clinton is briefing the press on the results of our mission.
MY LAST SALUTE IN UNIFORM
Retirement day at Fort Myer, Virginia, September 30, 1993. Alma and I salute as the national anthem is played. My only regret is that I could not do it all over again.
THE JOURNEY CONTINUES
On the speaking circuit in retirement. I am preparing to speak to fourteen thousand people waving American flags at the Bakersfield Business Conference in Bakersfield, California, in the fall of 1994.
By now I had come to know Nancy Reagan quite well. I knew that her love of Ronald Reagan and her devotion to him were total. She protected his well-being and his presidency. She comforted him and brought him joy. If she went away for a few days, we could see the President get out of sorts as he pined for her. Ronald Reagan was incomplete without his Nancy and she without him. She could be difficult, as she watched out for her man. She could be tough with people when the President could not. She was criticized and feared to some extent, but her role was vital. By the end of his administration she and I would become friends, a friendship that has grown with the years.
But that day, on the plane, I was surprised that neither the President nor the First Lady expressed gratitude for what their staff had done for them. I finally concluded that their silence did not indicate ingratitude. It just did not come spontaneously. A few days after we returned, when it was suggested to him, the President sent us all thank-you notes and commemorative gifts.
My American Journey Page 47