by Allen Drury
“It is a great gamble by a man who has become, under the stress of great events, a great statesman. He bestrides the world like Colossus, not only because there is at the moment no one else, but also because he has found within himself the resources to rise to the moment and meet its awful challenges. Wishing him well with all our hearts, we pray for him knowing that in so doing we pray for ourselves.…”
“President Knox,” Walter wrote rapidly in his study at “Salubria,” snug and comfortable while a new snowstorm out of the West slapped with a softly soggy persistence at the old leaded windows, “takes with him on this great new adventure in peace the hopes and prayers of all mankind. Events—events almost beyond comprehension, so shattering and awesome have they been—have conspired to place in his hands the fate, quite literally, of the world. It is a moment that has no parallel in the past and quite likely will have no parallel in the future. Never again, in all probability, will any single man have such influence and power as now rests in the hands of Orrin Knox. The situation is unique. We must thank whatever fates preside over the destinies of America that she has produced a man who is able to handle it.
“Very shrewdly, the President is not attempting to pressure the new governments in Moscow and Peking—that ‘United States of Russia’ and ‘United Chinese Republic’ whose names sound so strangely upon the world’s unaccustomed ear. Very shrewdly, he is walking softly, though he carries the biggest stick any man has ever held. Very shrewdly, he is approaching, equal to equal, with dignity, courtesy and respect, the new governments which now control the two vast countries whose relations hold the key to the fate of all mankind.
“Washington is confident that Orrin Knox can meet the challenge. Events have given him the opportunity to become the world’s supreme statesman. His own indomitable character offers unshakable assurance that he will do so, and that through him we all will be saved from atomic destruction and returned to the paths of peace.…”
“America watches with hope, awe and confidence,” Frankly Unctuous assured his innumerable listeners in a special broadcast just before midnight, “the remarkable statesmanship of Orrin Knox as it nears its apogee. Man and moment are met as never before, perhaps, in history.
“Overnight the whole framework of world civilization as we have known it has been rendered obsolete. New governments sit in Moscow and Peking, new names join the roster of nations: ‘the United States of Russia’ and ‘the United Chinese Republic’ stand where only yesterday the monstrous monoliths of Communism affronted and dismayed the world.
“New governments—new opportunities—new hopes. This is the finest hour of Orrin Knox. All of us join in prayers for his success, knowing that if he succeeds the world will succeed, and that peace and progress will rescue us from the terrible shadow of clashing rivalries and atomic war.
“History has given to Orrin Knox an opportunity never accorded another man. He approaches it with courage, with faith and with all the resources of the tenacious character Washington has come to know so well over his long years of public service. Now America gives this man and this character to the world—with unanimous prayers for his success and unanimous confidence in his leadership.…”
“My, my,” he said dryly to his predecessor as Frankly’s plump, self-satisfied face faded with a fervid solemnity from the screen, “how times have changed. I seem to be quite a guy, don’t I?”
“You are quite a guy,” William Abbott said quietly, and in his eyes and the eyes of the others gathered around the desk the President could see that, yes, he was. Yet to himself, and it was probably his saving grace, he was still just Orrin Knox, President, with a fearful job to do: not a miracle man, not a new Messiah, not the greatest this or the most marvelous that, not history’s infallible statesman who could rearrange the nations forever and ever, but just—Orrin Knox, President, with a fearful job to do.
“Well,” he said with a smile almost rueful, “that may or may not be. But I do know this: there’s a hell of a tough few days just ahead and I’m going to need all of you to advise me every minute of the way. I’m glad most of you can go with me.”
Bob Munson chuckled and replied with the candor of old friendship.
“Let’s don’t overdue the humility bit. You didn’t really think there was a soul in the world who could refuse if you asked, did you?”
“Well, no,” he admitted with a sudden cheerful grin, “but anyway, I’m grateful. It’s going to be very comforting to have you along. I’m sorry”—he turned to the Vice President, sitting somewhat disconsolately to one side—“that I can’t take you, Cullee, but somebody has to mind the store. There’s still a country to administer here and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“How long do you think?” the Vice President inquired. The President’s eyes narrowed.
“A week—two. Probably not more, because it should be quite clear by that time whether we’re really entering a new era or heading right back into the old one.”
“Surely after all that’s happened, Mr. President,” Justice Davis said earnestly, “surely you’re going to achieve exactly what you’re setting out to do, a settlement of these difficulties between China and Russia and a genuine, lasting peace in the world. The thought that you might not is truly too dreadful to contemplate.”
“Yes,” he agreed gravely, “and I try not to contemplate it. On the other hand, we’re dealing with some tremendous volatiles here and nobody knows yet whether they’re going to shake down peaceably together, or not.”
“They’ve got to,” Justice Davis said fervently. “They have got to.”
“That’s why I’m taking you along, Tommy,” he said with an affectionate smile. “Because somebody has to hold high the banner of What Must Be Done. And you, my idealistic if occasionally somewhat annoying old friend, are it. You will keep our feet on the paths of righteousness.”
“You should be glad to have someone do it,” Tommy Davis said, a little huffily but with his usual basic good nature. “It isn’t going to be easy.”
“That’s right,” the President agreed, somber again. “That is absolutely right. That’s why I’ve asked this group to go with me.” He looked along the semicircle of intent faces that stared solemnly at him as the storm raged outside and the clock within neared midnight: the ex-President, the Speaker, the ex-Majority Leader of the Senate, the new Majority Leader of the Senate, the Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, Justice Davis and his son. Himself and eight companions, starting out to save the world. May God give us strength, he thought with a sudden profound melancholy, startling because until that moment he had not really realized how apprehensive and uncertain he was of this chaotic future he was supposed to dominate so completely, according to his new-found friends of the media.
May God give us strength.
He lapsed for a moment into an obvious brown study, which alarmed them. To break it, Hal asked finally:
“What is the situation over there, anyway? Do we know?”
“Pretty much what I told the press conference,” he said, rousing out of it, relieving their worry with his practical, same-as-ever tone. “A general massacre of local party officials in both countries, capture and execution of all the national leaders except a few they apparently intend to put on trial. I understand that our dear old friend Vasily is one of these.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Bob Leffingwell said slowly. “That sounds too much like the old pattern. I’d much rather have an honest-to-God, emotional, across-the-board slaughter than an artificial, staged, propaganda trial with all the standard gimmicks. That could be a straw in the wind, couldn’t it?”
“I hope not,” Blair Hannah remarked, “because if it is, it isn’t a good one.”
“No,” he agreed soberly, “it is not. However, that appears to be what is shaping up—in Russia, anyway. It may be just the ingrained habit of six decades of watching the Communists operate, or it may be a reversion to type. We’ll hope it isn’t the latte
r. Reports from China are more obscure. In any event, gentlemen”—and again his eyes swept the semicircle—“I think we are going to have our work cut out for us—even if,” he added, “I do come riding on a white charger, armored to save the world.”
“What do you intend to do?” Arly Richardson asked, and the Speaker echoed, “Yes, sir, now, Mr. President, what do you intend to do, now, Mr. President, sir?” in his inimitable, predictable way.
“I intend to be somewhat tougher than the Post seems to contemplate,” he said, “but basically, they’ve pretty much got the pitch. I’m not going to push anybody unless I have to. I hope to God the Russians and Chinese have acquired enough sense so I won’t have to. If I do, however, I shall not hesitate.”
“They would be absolutely insane to head back in the same direction the old regimes were going,” Bill Abbott said. He smiled a wry smile. “That doesn’t say they won’t, of course.”
“No,” he said, “but I intend to make it very clear at the outset that I’m not having any of that. And actually—I mean, there they sit, both countries half destroyed, populations in absolute panic, the world in the same condition, the South Pacific still threatened by the cloud, the globe still entirely capable of being blown up at any moment if the war resumes and spreads—how can they possibly be other than humbled and responsible men?”
“We must think so,” Tommy Davis said solemnly. “Orrin—Mr. President—we must think so. We must not let doubt come in. We must believe—we must have faith—we must go forward. We dare not admit to ourselves the possibility of failure, for if we do, then the world is really lost.”
The President gave the little Justice once again an affectionate, almost paternal smile.
“Tommy,” he said, “you’re good for me, just as I knew you would be. We will have faith, as you say. We will go forward.”
Next morning when they departed for Moscow, that was the spirit in which they went. They flew from Andrews Air Force Base, and as far as eyes could see, their countrymen filled every available field, open space, building top, road, runway, just as they had along the entire length of the fifteen-mile drive from Washington.
He had decided, overriding the Secret Service, that they would go by motorcade instead of helicopter because, as he said, he wanted as many as possible to see them off. The mass outpouring of support he expected would be enormously strengthening for them, he believed; and when the mass outpouring proved to be there despite the new-fallen drifts of snow—streets and freeways solid with humanity every inch of the way from the White House, through the city, out into Maryland and so to Andrews—he had found it exactly as uplifting and encouraging as he had anticipated.
He had even received the final accolade, he noted with a wry little smile as they rode along, he and Cullee in the first limousine, William Abbott, Bob Munson, the Speaker and the Majority Leader in the second, Hal, Bob Leffingwell and Blair Hannah in the third. At regular intervals along the way stood the solemn-faced, black-jacketed stalwarts of NAWAC. Each held a banner: God bless President Knox, our great leader, and speed him on his way to peace for all humanity.
“Apparently,” he remarked to Cullee, “I’ve made the grade.” The Vice President snorted and murmured something not complimentary to Fred Van Ackerman and his merry men. Fear was still doing wonderful things to the world.
“Mr. Vice President,” he said, speaking from the red-carpeted platform set up alongside the plane, the chill wind ruffling his sparse, uncovered hair, “my fellow countrymen:
“We go in faith and in hope to do what we can to help our friends in Russia and China make peace, and to restore the future of the world.
“I think we can achieve this. The obstacles are many, the hurdles difficult. But we go in good faith, believing we will find good faith greeting us. If this be so, we cannot fail.
“There is a good omen for our journey and I want to share it with you. I am advised by the Weather Bureau and by our armed forces that the atomic cloud which has been threatening Southeast Asia, Indonesia and the nations of the South Pacific Basin now appears definitely to be disintegrating at a high altitude that will not harm human life.”
There was a great welling up of heartfelt, thankful sound, from his immediate audience and from everywhere over the earth where men heard his voice and watched his calm, wind-buffeted face.
“I agree with you,” he said. “It is a marvelous thing, and one for which we can all be greatly thankful. Yet the event gives us all pause, because it reminds us what did happen, and what can happen again unless my colleagues and I are successful in our mission.
“I repeat: we can be successful if we are met with good faith and cooperation in Moscow and Peking. I believe we will be. I believe the massed heart of mankind is insisting upon a genuine world peace at last. I believe that this is a force too strong to be denied. My colleagues and I go as its servants, with nothing to be gained for ourselves or our country but the satisfaction of knowing that we have been able to help.
“That satisfaction I believe we shall have, because I believe peace will be achieved and with it the dawning of a new day for all mankind.
“Goodbye and God bless you. Pray for us, and we shall do our best. I am confident we will return with peace, for you and for everyone.”
Again there was a great upwelling of sound, a sort of universal cry of yearning and hope. Then the platform was removed, they boarded Air Force One, the doors were closed, the engines roared, they were up and away, followed by the two packed press planes.
For a long, long time after the planes vanished into the sullen overcast, those they had left behind stood staring up, hushed and solemn, not moving, not speaking, hardly even breathing, so great was their agony of hope … until at last they began to break up and move away and drift off, to return to their homes and the vigil that now took over the world.
***
Book Four
1
They stopped overnight in London; he conferred briefly with the Prime Minister and the Prime Ministers of France, West Germany and Italy, who had flown in for the meeting. There were pledges of support, fervent expressions of hope, stout assurances of future cooperation in all the things necessary to stabilize the world. He accepted them gravely and with profound thanks, though in the back of his mind a little clock kept ticking away: one week—ten days—two weeks—one week—ten days—two weeks. It was not only the Russians and the Chinese he had to hold to the timetable of fear, it was everyone else. Let things drag on too long and the whole thing would begin to disintegrate, the moment would be lost, cooperation on all sides would fritter out in a revival of traditional rivalries, hesitations, self-interests, unwillingness to work together, loss of heart, loss of determination, loss of courage. Time was his ally and his enemy: he did not know which side of its Janus head would be turned to him at the end of his journey. It behooved him to move fast.
Spurred by this, he did not tarry long but flew on very early in the morning to Moscow. Bonfires had been lighted the night before all along the route, in Newfoundland, Iceland, the British Isles: tiny beacons of hope and encouragement to wish him and his colleagues Godspeed on their difficult journey. Now as dawn came slowly to Europe through the pall of winter an occasional rift in the clouds disclosed that in every village, on every hilltop, little groups of people were standing in the snow to wave as the plane that carried the hopes of mankind passed over.
“They wish us well,” William Abbott remarked.
He nodded.
“It is nice to know.”
“Very,” Bill Abbott said. “We need their prayers.”
“Yes,” he said, and a sigh, sudden and unexpected, escaped his lips. “More than they know.”
Presently Arly Richardson, staring moodily out at the drifting clouds, leaned forward abruptly.
“What’s this?” he asked. “An escort?”
And so it seemed to be, for Air Force One was suddenly surrounded by what appeared to be at least two dozen jets, tak
ing positions alongside with friendly dips of their wings and a certain almost festive rakishness in the way they flew. In a moment the captain came on the intercom.
“We are being officially greeted, Mr. President. Their commander says he can speak English. I’ll have him on in a moment.”
A second later, guttural and at times uncertain but obviously full of a boundless excitement and good will, they heard their first words from the new Russia.
“Hello, great American President and his friends!” a youthful voice cried cheerfully. “On behalf of the President and Cabinet of the United States of Russia, we welcome you! On behalf of the free people of the United States of Russia, we welcome you! We are happy you are here to help us. We make you welcome. Welcome, welcome! We want to join you in making peace. We make you welcome. Welcome, welcome! Welcome!”
And in a burst of exuberant spirits, the lead plane peeled away for a series of rolls and spins, followed instantly by its fellows, so that for several minutes the sky was filled with cavorting jets, some of them coming dangerously close, but all plainly in the hands of jubilant, friendly and excited men.
During the display, he went forward to the cabin. When things had calmed down again and all their escort seemed to be in place, he spoke in response.
“Gentlemen of the United States of Russia, this is the President. My friends and I are very happy to visit your country. We too hope we can all work together for peace. We will do our best to make peace come. We need the help of the President and Cabinet of the United States of Russia. We need the help of you, the great free peoples of the United States of Russia. Let us go forward together, my friends. Let us have peace!”
“Yes!” the youthful voice came back triumphantly. “We will have peace, comrade!” There was a pause and a burst of laughter. “We are not supposed to say that any more, Mr. President, please forgive me! We say ‘citizen’ now. We will have peace, great citizen of the world! Welcome to Russia! Welcome, welcome!”