by Allen Drury
She looked, as The London Times murmured to his New York counterpart, like a piece of bone china, an exquisite figurine. “But one,” The New York Times remarked, “which isn’t going to break.” “None of your group looks that way,” The London Times observed. “They all look tough this morning.” “It’s a tough world,” The New York Times said. “Right,” The London Times agreed. “What are they going to propose that we do about it?” “I haven’t quite got the scoop, yet,” The New York Times confessed. “Orrin is playing this one very close to his vest. Apparently no copies have been distributed and none are going to be until he speaks.” “You mean we have to fall back on good old-fashioned reporting?” The London Times inquired wryly. “For shame!” “It may not be easy, either,” The New York Times said. “Lord knows what he’s going to come up with, but I suspect it’s going to be serious.” “I suspect so,” The London Times said with a trace of gloom. “Damned difficult situation all around, isn’t it? Damned difficult.” “We still have faith in our Orrin,” The New York Times said with an attempt at lightness. “Although”—lightness vanished—“we think he may be treading on very dangerous ground.” “Who isn’t, these days?” The London Times asked with a shrug less carefree than it looked. “Who isn’t … My, everybody’s really here today, aren’t they? Most of the Assembly must be on hand, too.” “They want to see,” The Louisville Courier said from the row behind, “whether Orrin is going to blow us up, close us down or just give us a lecture.” “More than a lecture, I suspect,” The London Times said. “I say—” he added excitedly, as there was a sudden stirring, an instantaneous rush of excitement, a tumble of photographers surging backwards into the room, dancing frantically ahead of the small gray-clad group that entered slowly but purposefully from a door to the left. “Is that the Chinese?” “I believe it is,” The Courier confirmed with equal excitement. “But who is it? Do you know what Lin looks like? It couldn’t be he, could it?”
In the chair Australia too obviously had some doubt, rapping automatically for order but looking uncertain until one of the gray-clad figures detached himself from the group now settling into the section formerly occupied by the People’s Republic of China and came forward to whisper in his ear. There was an instant attentive hush.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Council,” Australia said, voice trembling with emotion, “it gives me great pleasure to welcome the President of the United Chinese Republic and his delegation.”
Applause burst, rose, roared. Everyone was standing in instant ovation, faces were smiling, doubts were momentarily submerged in a wave of friendly greeting. It had barely begun to subside when from the door to the right there came another tumble of photographers, an instantaneous focusing of attention, a new wave of excitement and tension. There entered another small group of men, these clad entirely in blue-serge business suits. Solemnly they came forward amid the watching hush to take their seats in the section formerly reserved for the Soviet Union. Once again a messenger went forward, once again Australia made the announcement in a voice strained with excitement.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Council, it is my great pleasure to welcome the President of the United States of Russia and his delegation.”
Again delighted applause burst, rocked, roared. Again there was standing ovation, happy faces, eager smiles.
“Well,” Orrin murmured behind his hand to William Abbott as they finally resumed their seats, “I got them this far, anyway. At least they’re in the same room.”
“That’s something,” the ex-President agreed with a wry little smile, “although I wouldn’t count on its being too much.”
“No,” the President said. “I’m not.”
And with a slow and deliberate stare he looked along the circular table until his eyes found first Lin’s and then Shulatov’s. Neither gave him the slightest sign of recognition, so after a moment he gave to each an obvious and sardonic little bow, which set off a new ripple through the gradually subsiding room.
(“Ah, ha!” said The London Times, and The New York Times agreed somberly, “‘Ah, ha!’ is right.”)
But for a few fragile seconds more the illusion was preserved that there might be some chance of harmony here, even though the eyes of the three principals did not meet again, nor, in fact, did the eyes of the warring two ever meet at all. It was with an increasingly nervous air that Australia delivered his formal welcome.
“Mr. President,” he began, and corrected himself with a hurried little laugh: “Mr. Presidents! It is my official honor and great personal pleasure to welcome you, your delegations and your two great countries to the Security Council of the United Nations. I think I may take the liberty of speaking for the Assembly as well, and for our various subsidiary and associated units, when I say that we are all delighted to have you here.
“You will find here many nations and many peoples disposed to be friendly and helpful to you in this time of universal crisis. You will also find”—and his voice became more solemn and more emphatic as his nervousness vanished in the desperate earnestness of the moment—“an overwhelming desire to achieve world peace and to join, everyone together, in building a new and better world.
“In that endeavor, Mr. Presidents, we welcome, we hope for, we pray for and we dare to think we may expect the friendly and willing cooperation of the United Chinese Republic and the United States of Russia.”
He paused and looked expectantly at Lin and Shulatov. Expressionless, both looked back. Tension in the room suddenly returned a hundredfold. He resumed in a tone that momentarily seemed nervous again but grew increasingly stronger and sharper as a genuine indignation took over.
“Mr. Presidents,” he repeated, “we hope for, we pray for and we expect the friendly and willing cooperation of your two great countries. It is in that hope and expectation that we welcome you here today. The peoples of the world join your own peoples in hoping that out of our deliberations may come a new dawn for the world.
“Because, I assure you, we are sick unto death of constant night.
“On behalf of my colleagues and myself, and of all the nations, I greet you. We await with interest any comments you may wish to make upon assuming your seats.…Mr. President?” And he looked at Shulatov with an expectant gaze that did not permit evasion.
After a long moment the Russian shifted in his chair.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” he said in a voice almost inaudible, since he did not lean forward to the microphone. “The government and peoples of the United States of Russia appreciate your words.”
There was a silence. It lengthened. Finally Australia asked blankly, “Is that all?”
But Shulatov, face still impassive, made no reply. And presently, his voice showing now an outright annoyance, Australia turned to Lin.
“Mr. President,” he said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice but not succeeding altogether, “do you wish to respond?”
Again there was silence, accompanied by rapidly rising tension. Then Lin leaned forward to his microphone.
“On behalf of my people and government,” he said in a soft, rapid voice, “we thank you for your greeting.”
And he too sat back and said no more, while again the silence grew.
“Very well,” Australia said at last, a noticeable tension in his tone. “Then the Chair recognizes the chief delegate of the United States of America, who has requested permission to speak.”
(“It doesn’t look good,” The New York Times whispered glumly to The London Times. “Maybe better this way,” The London Times whispered back. “It may make it easier for your man to rally support for what he wants to do.” “Don’t bet on it,” The New York Times responded still glumly. “This whole thing could get away from him in a minute.”)
Of this, of course, he had long been aware, and so it was with more than his usual deliberation that he looked slowly around the watching circle of delegates, looked thoughtfully around the room, looked for a second squarely into the cameras
in the booths above, returned his gaze finally first to Shulatov and then to Lin, neither of whom, as before, responded in any way. Then he leaned forward to his microphone and began to speak in a slow and measured manner.
“I had thought, Mr. President,” he said, and his tone was cutting, “that here in these surroundings, at least, we might find a little less intransigence and a little more gratitude for what the nations of the world are doing in welcoming thus tolerantly to our councils the two governments who still have it in their power to make fatal mistakes and destroy us all in the process.”
There was a murmur of surprise, agreement, some scattered concern at his bluntness.
“Mr. President,” he went on calmly, “I find it impossible to believe that the President of China and the President of Russia, with both of whom I had the most confidential and candid discussions within the week, should come here today and not understand the seriousness of the moment. I know they do, Mr. President. Therefore I think they are being deliberately contumacious in their responses to your welcome and in their apparent attitude toward the vast majority of mankind which this United Nations represents.
“I think they should understand,” he said softly, “that this is not wise.…
“Mr. President”—so abruptly that the change of mood threw them slightly off balance, as he intended, he took a sheet of paper from his vest pocket and put on his glasses—“I have here a resolution which I shall read to the Security Council, and then request a vote.” And calmly he began, while along the circle Shulatov and Lin, abandoning their elaborate pretense of disinterest, leaned forward intently to listen.
“Whereas, it is imperative for the peace and safety of the population of Earth that the present conflict between Russia and China be speedily ended, and that there be no more war; and,
“Whereas, the United Nations has established an International Peace Force to achieve these purposes; and,
“Whereas, the United States of America has voluntarily offered to undertake an immediate disarmament program to reduce its armed forces to a defense-force level and contribute to the International Peace Force all funds, troops and matériel which the United Nations command may require for the successful completion of its purposes in China and Russia and its permanent mission of peace; and,
“Whereas, the United States of America, acting on behalf of the United Nations, has approached the governments of the United States of Russia and the United Chinese Republic seeking their agreement to an equal disarmament; and,
“Whereas, such agreement has been deliberately and contumaciously withheld by those governments; and,
“Whereas, those governments have even gone so far as to ban the International Peace Force from its peace-restoring mission on their territories; and,
“Whereas, the world no longer has the time or patience for such frivolous, irresponsible and inexcusable defiance of the will of mankind—”
He paused, and all over the room there was a gentle and unanimous sigh of tension.
“Now, therefore,” he said, and his tone grew stronger and his expression cold as he looked directly at Lin and Shulatov and bit off the words, “be it resolved:
“That the United Nations, acting through the Security Council, hereby deplores and condemns the intransigent refusal of the governments of the United States of Russia and the United Chinese Republic to cooperate with the International Peace Force and the plan for disarmament of themselves and the United States of America; and, further,
“That the United Nations, acting through the Security Council, hereby calls upon the governments of the United Chinese Republic and the United States of Russia to begin negotiations with the United States of America tomorrow at ten a.m. in the city of Geneva, Switzerland, on the details of disarmament; and, further,
“That the United Nations, acting through the Security Council, hereby calls upon the governments of the United States of Russia and the United Chinese Republic to admit within their territories, for the purposes of restoring and keeping the peace, the International Peace Force, immediately, forthwith and at once; and, further—”
(“Where’s the stinger?” The London Times whispered. “It’s coming,” The New York Times responded. And so it was.)
“—Be it resolved that if the governments of the United Chinese Republic and the United States of Russia do not immediately, forthwith and at once comply with the terms of this resolution, the International Peace Force, backed by the entire resources of all the members of the United Nations, be directed to enter the territories of those two governments immediately, forthwith and at once and take whatever actions may be necessary to restore and keep the peace for the safety and preservation of all mankind.
“Mr. President, I ask for a vote on the resolution.”
And he sat back in the midst of sudden exclamation, babble and uproar, as members of the media dashed out to file bulletins, members of the audience exchanged excited comments, delegates turned to one another and to their staffs in great agitation and concern, and along the circular table both the President of the United States of Russia and the President of the United Chinese Republic began shouting for recognition with an angry and frantic haste.
To their outraged cries Australia took plenty of time to respond; and when he did, it was in a dry and hostile tone.
“Yes?” he inquired. “The distinguished delegate from the United States of Russia has changed his mind and now wishes to speak to us, does he? The distinguished delegate from the United Chinese Republic is similarly moved, is he? What do the distinguished delegates wish to say to us?”
“Mr. President!” they cried simultaneously—paused—glared at one another—tried again simultaneously—paused—glared again.
A little nervous tittering began in the room. Australia intervened.
“Allow me,” he said with an elaborate politeness. “Strictly on a basis of seniority, because the immediate past government of Russia entered this body prior to the immediate past government of China, the Chair recognizes the President of the United States of Russia for remarks which we all trust will be brief.”
“Mr. President,” Shulatov said, and he was visibly shaking with a rage that was unmistakably genuine, “it is impossible for the government and the great peoples of Russia to sit here in my person and accept the insults and crudities of the American President. It is impossible!
“We are not your slaves, Mr. President! We are not the playthings of the United Nations! We are not children, to be pushed about in our own country by imperialistic adventures sent to us in the guise of peace-keeping’!
“No, Mr. President! We are a strong people and a proud people, and we do not accept this kind of bullying! We defy the United Nations, Mr. President! We will fight if you cross our borders. We will fight, and we still have much left with which to do it. Do not forget that, Mr. President! Many planes, many men, many guns, many tanks, many bombs—yes, atomic bombs! We still have some left, Mr. President! We do not want to use them upon the world, but we will, Mr. President, we will, if you treat us in this fashion! We promise you! We promise you!”
And glaring defiantly around the table he slumped back in his seat and turned his back upon Lin, who now received recognition from the Chair.
“Mr. President,” he said in his softest whispery voice, and instantly the room, in tumult after Shulatov’s defiant challenges, hushed to a deathly quiet.
“It is not the purpose of the United Chinese Republic to engage in wild accusations or violent threats. However, I should be remiss as head of the new Chinese government were I not to say that any such violent incursion into our territory as is proposed by the President of the United States of America could only be viewed with the greatest misgivings by the Chinese people. In fact, Mr. President, I do not believe my government could restrain them from expressions of resentment which might almost be termed extreme. We, too, still have many men under arms, many guns, many tanks and many atomic bombs. We, too, might find ourselves impelled by
circumstances to take retaliatory action which would be regrettable.
“We submit, Mr. President,” he concluded gently, “that the possibility is worth consideration before hasty and ill-advised decisions are made here that might be regretted later.”
And he too sat back, folding his arms carefully across his chest and, for the first time, glanced blandly in the general direction of his antagonist from America, who now leaned forward with an air he hoped was sufficiently skeptical and impatient to shore up the wavering he expected.
“Mr. President,” he said, permitting a certain scorn to enter his voice, “I suggest to the Security Council that we not be intimidated by the threats of two governments which are literally on the ropes. I have been to Russia and China, I remind this body, and it is all these two governments can do at this moment to keep control around Moscow and Peking and a few other of their major cities. Their populations have received terrible blows, many of their cities are in ruins, famine and pestilence stalk their lands, civil rebellion still flares in many areas and they themselves could still be overturned in a day as they overturned others—with my help, I remind them. It is for this reason that the International Peace Force must act, and act at once. It is for this reason that it will receive no really effective opposition in either country at this moment. To threaten that it will is to indulge in empty bluff. And the two Presidents know it.
“To them I would say, ‘If you don’t want this to happen, the way to prevent it is very simple:
“‘Disarm. Cooperate. Be reasonable. Work with us and with each other. Help us keep the peace.
“‘All attempts to secure your cooperation by other means will cease instantly the moment you indicate your willingness to help us.…’”