by Allen Drury
“Well, now, Mr. President,” he cried. “Mr. Presidents, sir. Sirs. What’s become of that little ole pledge about recriminations, now, Mr. Presidents, sirs? Seems to me everybody’s recriminatin’ right and left, and not least you, Bill, Mr. President, Mr. Speaker, sir. Stop it now, I say! Best everybody stop it right now, I say! We’ve got to find ourselves a way out of this little ole tangle, and we’re just not goin’ do it with ev’body slammin’ away at ev’body, here! We’ve got to think, Mr. Presidents, sirs, and that’s for certain sure, we’ve surely got to think.
“Now, then, let’s just take a look at that little ole proposition you just made, Bill, Mr. President, sir. Why, how they goin’ to look at that, over there in Moscow? They goin’ to look at it as an act of war, Bill, they surely are. Of war, I say! They goin’ to say—and the rest of the world goin’ say it with them, you know the rest of the world, now—they goin’ say, Look at that old United States, aggressin’ again! Look at that old United States, jes’ tearin’ up ev’body’s hopes for peace, they goin’ say! Lookit, you-all! There she goes agin, they goin’ say, resortin’ to arms, sendin’ bombers, sendin’ subs, aggressin’, they goin’ say. Aggressin’, that’s what they—”
“Good God Almighty,” Bill Abbott said in a grating voice, “you are beyond belief, Jawbone. Who has sent in troops and bombers, who has sent in subs, who has launched new offensives, captured prisoners, sunk American vessels, invaded American territory? Tell me that, you blithering idiot.”
“Call me anythin’ you like, Bill,” Jawbone Swarthman said with a sort of merry, relishing doggedness, “but you know it don’t make one damned bit of difference to the Communists or the world what the facts are. They goin’ attack the U.S. of A. regardless, Bill, you know that. They goin’ fly right in the face of the facts and lie themselves silly ’bout us, Bill, you know that. They all bein’ doin’ that for years, Bill, all those Communists and all our dear friends and ev’body else, and they goin’ keep right on at it. And we all know it. Now, isn’t that right, you-all? I submit it to you. Isn’t that right?”
He paused, demanding argument; but of course there could be none, for he was entirely correct; and so after a moment, tossing his shaggy gray hair triumphantly, he proceeded apace and atumble in the carefully cultivated cornpone rhetoric which covered up the Phi Beta Kappa, magna cum laude graduate of Duke University Law School.
“So, then: we got us a condition to face here, not a theory; we got us a reality. We got, first, the world’s deliberate refusal to admit we have a case, and its sure-certain readiness to jump on us if we so much as budge in our own defense. So that’s a hurt and a hindrance. Then secondly, we got our own military condition, which condition I grant you isn’t so hot, although I don’t think it’s quite so apple-pie simple to explain as you make out, Bob, I really don’t. But anyway,” he hurried on as Bob Munson showed signs of a sharp reply, “anyway, be—that—as—it—may, we got us a condition and a reality there, too, and they’s simply no point in debatin’ it now, Bob, simply no point. And that’s another hurt and hindrance. And thirdly, we got another big ‘If’ nobody’s mentioned here yet in all these free-swingin’, dashin’ outlines of how tough we ought to be. Jes’ supposin’ now, Bill, that they really mean it this time. Jes’ supposin’ they finally made up their minds this is it. Jes’ supposin’ they decided they got us on the run and they goin’ keep us there. Then what?
“Supposin’ we come back with bombs and subs and war-makin’, Bill—and supposin’ they don’t back down? Supposin’ they say, okay, you asked for it, we goin’ let you have it? Then what’s goin’ happen to us, Bill, and you other tough guys here? What’s goin’ become of dear ole America then? Think about that now. Think about it!”
And he sat back dramatically and stared brightly around the circle of their tense, unhappy faces. Finally Warren Strickland shifted in his chair and began to speak in the quietly reasonable way that had been his contribution to Senate debate for twenty years.
“Then what you propose, Jawbone, is surrender, isn’t it? Because if we were really to accept your third point, and put it in context with your second and first points, then there would really be no use in trying any land of defiance at all, would there? We’d be licked before we started.
“Well—” he sighed and rubbed a hand across his tired eyes for a moment, then resumed in a stronger voice, “maybe we are. But I don’t like to proceed on that assumption just yet. I am not, as it turns out—” and a touch of his usual relaxed humor crossed his face for a second—“the President of the United States, but if I were, this is what I think I might do:
“I should, first of all, proceed on the assumption that there is, in the long run in this world of ours, some balance between evil and good which does come down finally, when all is said and done, on the side of good. I should proceed on the assumption that evil wins most of its victories, at least its early victories, by bluff; and that even though we are very late in the game now with our Communist friends, and even though they have advanced very far by bluff, that bluff can still be called if we will do it. I said a little while ago that the problem is facing up to it. I think you all know me well enough—or at least my colleagues of the Congress know me well enough—to know that I would. I can only hope—” and for a moment he paused and studied Ted Jason as though seeing him for the first time—“that the man who sits in that chair now will do the same.…
“Now it seems to me,” he went on as the President moved slightly but did not otherwise respond, “that there is one thing we cannot afford to ignore, and it is to some extent over and above, possibly even greater than, considerations of the Panama Canal in hostile hands, or a friendly government toppled in Gorotoland, or American troops captured or about to be captured, or a fishing fleet decimated, or two American cities successfully ‘occupied,’ if only for two hours’ time. And that is the basic nerve of all these things—the basic dare—the basic taunt, almost childlike in its terrible simplicity, which says, ‘We’re doing these things to you because we don’t think you have the nerve to respond. We think you think that we’re strong enough now so that you won’t dare to answer back. We’re contemptuous of you and we’re insulting you because we don’t think you have the guts to do anything about it.’
“Particularly do I think that this applies to the situation in Alaska, grave though the others are. Alaska is part of us, and they intend for the world to see that we’re too weak now to defend our own.
“If that is true,” he said quietly, “then we are lost, and there’s no way of glossing it over. America is lost, and that’s that.… But I like to think that perhaps America is not, just yet. And so for my own contribution, I would like to offer this:
“In many ways there are arguments to be made against our involvements in Gorotoland and Panama and there are arguments to be made for allowing those situations to work themselves out, providing it can be done with all interested parties negotiating in good faith toward the goal of a stable Africa and an internationalized Canal. But we cannot allow Alaska to pass without the most immediate and drastic response, in my humble judgment.
“So I would agree with President Abbott on that. I think President Jason should order at once exactly the kind of retaliation Bill proposes: an all-out death strike against any and all Soviet ships and planes in—or adjoining—Alaskan waters. I do not think this will bring war with Russia, because I think she half expects this strike and she knows she deserves it, and so I think, though there will be a lot of saber rattling and a great deal of teeth gnashing, that she will lick her just and well-deserved wounds, and withdraw.
“I would couple this with a flat and unequivocal demand for at least $150,000,000 in reparations for damages to our fishing fleet.
“At the same time, I would announce at once that all surveillance activities have been resumed, and that all American air and naval forces are returning to their stations around the world.
“I would also announce at once that Amer
ican prisoners in the hands of Obifumatta’s forces in Gorotoland will be freed immediately—or we will resume full-scale aerial strikes on the country.
“And I would announce that threatened American forces in Panama will be evacuated by the American Navy—period. I would not hesitate, I would not equivocate, I would not apologize for it, I would simply say calmly that they will be saved as we have a right to save them, and it will be done.
“I would then call for immediate negotiations in both countries by all interested powers including us and the Russians.
“And I would then join in the Russian call for a Security Council meeting, lodge the strongest possible protest against their actions and introduce a resolution condemning them for aggression.…
“That way has risks,” he concluded quietly. “But in my judgment, inaction has more.”
“I think you have given us a prescription for world war,” Tom August said in a taut, aggrieved voice into the silence that followed. “I really do, Warren. And I regret it, because I don’t think we could possibly do what you propose.”
“Why not?” Hal Knox asked abruptly. “Just why not?”
“Because it is impossible,” said Roger P. Croy.
“It would never work,” said George Harrison Wattersill.
“We haven’t got the strength,” said Ewan MacDonald MacDonald.
“And what,” asked Warren Strickland gently, while the President remained silent, studying their faces, “says the Secretary of State?”
For a long moment Bob Leffingwell returned him stare for stare. Then he too sighed, but spoke in a firm voice.
“I say we must do something,” he said. “I say we must respond. How strongly it should be leaves the area of certainties and gets into the area of gamble. But all things considered—” he paused and they studied him and his employer as he resumed—“I should not be afraid to gamble, and quite strongly, I think, for I too think that this is, essentially, a testing—perhaps the final testing—and a contest of wills.… But,” he concluded quietly, “it is of course not my will or yours which holds the answer here.… ”
And so finally it came back to the man behind the desk, as it had to. ‘The buck stops here,’ Harry Truman had put it, at the start of an earlier difficult era whose erratic braveries and inconsistent equivocations through succeeding administrations had led straight to this more terrible, more difficult age. And so the buck did.
“Gentlemen,” he said, his voice dragging a little with the weariness that now, at almost half-past three in the morning, was beginning to affect them all, “I thank you for your very thoughtful discussion, which has been most helpful to me in clarifying my own ideas. I think everyone has spoken out of genuine conviction and real love of country and concern for the world, and I hope I may act in that spirit as we move through the days until this thing is settled.
“I am, as you can understand, most—” his voice faltered a little, then strengthened—“most terribly disappointed by what has occurred. I acted in good faith for a goal in which I honestly believed, the goal of world peace. I think even those of you who disagree with me most severely accord me that. At least—” and he gave a slight, almost hesitant smile to which they all responded with vigorous nods, so important is it in times of crisis to preserve the confidence of the man who sits behind that particular desk in that particular house—“I hope you do.…
“I agree with the Secretary of State, with you, Warren, and with Bill, that a response must be made. I think,” he said, as they began to watch him with a hopeful anticipation, “that I have the channel through which to do it. I have the excuse, you might say, to hang it on.” And for some of them, the anticipation died.
“Excuse?” William Abbott echoed blankly. “What ‘excuse’ do you need, Mr. President?”
“I think,” the President said slowly, “that I need something that will permit me to respond without directly challenging the Soviet Union.”
“Exactly,” Senator August said happily. “That is exactly it, Mr. President!”
“But—” the ex-President began in a dismayed voice. Then the dismay overcame it, and it trailed away.
“Shortly before we came in here,” the President said, “I received an appeal from the Governor of Alaska. It was, as you might expect, somewhat hysterical in tone. But the gist of it was, of course, an appeal for immediate assistance. This I propose to give.
“I propose,” he said firmly, while the faces of his predecessor, of Senators Munson, Danta, Hamilton, Smith and Representative Knox, gradually froze into expressions of dismayed disbelief, “to declare Alaska immediately a disaster area. I propose to dispatch immediately the sum of fifty million dollars for the relief of civilian distress caused by this unfortunate incident—”
“Is that how you are going to refer to it, Mr. President?” Bob Munson asked in a strangled tone. “‘This unfortunate incident?’”
The President nodded.
“I think so. I don’t think there’s any need to say anything inflammatory. The whole world knows what’s happened.”
“But—” Bob Munson began; and then he, too, gave it up.
“I also propose,” the President continued calmly, “to dispatch another fifty million dollars to compensate the owners for any damages that may have been suffered by the American fishing fleet. And another fifty million dollars to assist the families of any men who may have been lost. That, I think, will take care of that. And it will also,” he said, his tiredness seeming to disappear and his tone growing increasingly stronger as his thinking on it became moment by moment more clarified and more firm, “permit me to work logically into the next phases of it, which I think will be these:
“After I have outlined the aid I shall send to Alaska, I shall then go on to say that I agree with the Chairman of the Council of Ministers that a conference should be held to settle the outstanding problems which are aggravating the world.
“I will propose that this conference, instead of being held immediately in Moscow as he proposes, be held in some neutral point, probably Geneva, at a date, say two weeks from now, that will allow adequate time for all parties to prepare.
“I will propose that it consist of two working groups, one to deal with the situation in Gorotoland and the other with the situation in Panama.
“I will propose that the meeting on Gorotoland include representatives of both factions in that country, and that the meeting on Panama have the same composition.
“I will propose that both work toward an end to the fighting and toward the establishment of temporary coalition governments which will, in due course, hold free plebiscites to determine the final composition of the governments that will control those two countries.
“I will propose further that after those objectives have been achieved, each group should then proceed to work out agreements in their respective areas for the neutralization of Gorotoland and for the establishment of a fair and democratically selected international body to administer the Panama Canal.
“And finally, I will announce that all surveillance activities by U-2 and satellites have been resumed. Which,” he concluded with an air of satisfaction, “they already have been, isn’t that right, Ewan?”
“That’s right,” the Secretary of Defense agreed. “An hour ago, just as you told me.”
“Good,” the President said with a triumphant little smile. “This, then, is what I propose. I think it will give us a way out that will bring ultimate agreement on these problems and an ultimate easing of these tensions that will contribute greatly, perhaps decisively, to world peace. I hope you will all agree and support me.”
“What about reversing our withdrawals of naval and air power?” Warren Strickland asked quietly. “You didn’t say anything about them.”
“I think an abrupt reversal now would be too inflammatory and too warlike,” the President said. “I’ve thought of that, but I think my way is better. I think the re-establishment of surveillance will indicate to them that we
mean business. We can always send the fleets back later if things get worse.”
“Can you?” William Abbott asked with equal quietness. “Can you really, Mr. President?”
“Why not?” the President inquired. “I’m the Commander in Chief. All I have to do is say so.”
“Is that all?” Bill Abbott asked, still quietly. “Is that all it takes, once they’ve begun to leave?”
“I think so,” the President said firmly. “I believe my way is best. I think this is a combination of whip and carrot that will bring our friends in Moscow around and get things on the right track again.”
“You really think you’re using a whip,” Stanley Danta said in a musing voice that did not ask for answer. Nor did the President give a direct one.
“I think I am proposing a way out which will bring agreement and help to establish a lasting peace. I really think I have found a middle ground.”
“Assuming both sides want a middle ground,” Bob Munson said, as quietly as his colleagues. “What, in the past six hours, leads you to believe they do?”
“What makes you think they don’t?” Roger P. Croy demanded with a sudden belligerence. “What do you mean, attempting to destroy the President’s confidence in his course of action, which he must believe in if he is to carry it off successfully? What do you want, Senator, a Third World War?”
“That’s right, Bob,” Senator August said before the Majority Leader could articulate his angry reply. “You people do sound awfully belligerent to me.”
And Jawbone Swarthman agreed, “Surely do. Surely do, you-all.”
“I think,” George Harrison Wattersill said before anyone could respond, “that the President has proposed a most reasonable, most diplomatic and most farsighted solution for the situation that confronts us. He is acting firmly and I think shrewdly and wisely. I for one am proud of him and proud of my country that it has chosen such a wonderful leader in times like these!”
There was silence for a while, as the President’s men nodded agreement to one another and the ex-President’s men regarded one another with dismay.