Authors: Irving Wallace
Douglass Dilman tried to ignore the headlines as he came around his desk.
“All right, Tim,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”
It was one minute to ten o’clock in the morning as Dilman left his office, preceded Flannery into his personal secretary’s cubicle, nodded absently to Miss Foster, and entered the Cabinet Room to make his brief news announcement to the twenty-five White House press regulars who had been invited.
For an instant he was unable to see in the glare of the television klieg lights, but he was nevertheless conscious of the camera lens and of critical eyes following him in his unsteady walk to the table in the center of the room and the open place from which his chair had been removed.
When his full vision was restored, and he was able to make out the familiar faces in the ring of correspondents, who were armed with their yellow pencils and blank notebooks, Dilman tried to discern the amount of hostility or friendliness that awaited him. There were friendly, interested expressions on an isolated few, but mainly the features of the correspondents revealed doubt, distrust, even antipathy. They were orderly and attentive, true, but their attentiveness was that offered by cynical reporters to a nine-day wonder they had come to interview—on the ninth day.
Dilman rattled the paper in his hand. “Good morning, gentlemen. At least, I hope it will be a good morning.”
There were no chuckles, no appreciation of his weak jest or concurrence with his sad wish. Three or four correspondents murmured their greetings, but otherwise the more than two dozen apathetic journalists remained silent and uncommitted to confraternity.
“I have a brief but important news announcement to make,” said Dilman. He read from the triple-spaced typed lines on the sheet of paper in his hand. “ ‘Precisely one hour ago Eastern Standard Time, so I am informed by the Secretary of Defense and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the battle-ready battalions of a full division of the United States Army, motorized and equipped with the latest in rocketry weapons, landed safely, and without mishap, at strategic airfields in Baraza, and at similar sites in surrounding allied African countries which are members of the African Unity Pact. I can reveal only that fifteen thousand of our soldiers are there. For security reasons, I cannot be explicit about their exact locations. These brave and well-trained men represent an elite segment of our defense forces, popularly known as the Dragon Flies. They are under the field command of Major General C. Jarrett Rice. The military leaders of our combined African allies, in this defensive operation, will also be under the command of General Rice.’ ”
Dilman read ahead, to himself, and then looked up.
“ ‘I want to stress the nonaggressive nature of our intervention. The United States is a party to the AUP, pledged to come to the aid of any democratic African nation threatened by attack from an outside enemy. Baraza intelligence agents, as well as our own intelligence men, have supplied us with irrefutable evidence that native African Communists, trained, armed, and now led by Soviet Russian officers, are preparing to overthrow the democratically elected and constituted government of Baraza. The United States has informed the Premier of the U.S.S.R. of our obtaining this intelligence and, in unequivocal language, warned the Soviet Union that we shall honor our treaty with Baraza and the AUP, and intervene to protect our democratic neighbors wherever they are threatened. No formal reply has been received from Moscow. Since this is the case, since the Soviet buildup on the Barazan frontier continues unabated, and there have been unmistakable signs, noted through our Air Force reconnaissance flights, of heightening military activity in the last twenty-four hours, I have commanded our forces, under full cloak of security, to be transported from our shores to Africa. We are there now, and we are ready.
“ ‘I want to make it clear that no overt aggressive action will be undertaken by the troops of the United States or the AUP countries. They stand alert, to defend Baraza if it is struck. They will counter-attack only if the Barazan borders are invaded. If compelled to fight, the United States force will fight a conventional war with limited weapons, that is, without the use of nuclear warheads.
“ ‘Otherwise, all of our military establishment, here at home or dispersed around the world, is ready, as it has always been, for any eventuality. Our combat divisions, the air arm of SAC, the ICBM squadrons, our surface and undersea navy, have all been placed on strategic warning—not immediate tactical warning but the more conservative strategic warning.
“ ‘I repeat, the United States is ready for any eventuality. In my judgment, this is a historic necessity. As the first President of the United States, General George Washington, stated, “To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.” And as he wrote, “If we are wise, let us prepare for the worst.”’ ”
He folded the sheet of paper, handed it to Flannery, and said, “End of statement. That is it for now, gentlemen.”
About to leave, he saw a hand shoot up. He hesitated. It was the respected and moderate correspondent of the United Press International. “Mr. President—please—your quarantine on all questions, the last week or two, has made our task difficult, if not impossible. In a crisis, the American public deserves at least—”
Flannery had edged forward. “Wait now, boys, we agreed—”
Dilman took his press secretary’s arm. “Never mind, Tim.” He nodded to the United Press International correspondent. “All right, your question, and four more, and that is it. If I have further news, you shall be informed of it promptly. The question?”
“According to Reuters, this morning, an informant in the British Embassy in Moscow has stated that Soviet Marshal Vladimir Borov was flown to Baraza last night to take charge. Can you confirm or deny this, sir?”
Dilman said, “It is possible, but speculative. I have received no official word to that effect.”
The New York
Times
correspondent asked, “Are the United States battalions being kept in their landing areas in Africa, or are they being transported inland to more strategic positions?”
“They are on the move to the frontier. If the Communists strike, we want to be in control of as much ground as possible.”
“Mr. President.” It was the Chicago
Tribune
correspondent speaking. “Is there any definite information on exactly when you expect the Communist rebels to invade?”
“There is no way of knowing for certain. Intelligence believes the Soviet timetable is set for late today or early tomorrow morning.”
The Associated Press correspondent asked, “If an actual clash takes place, and the Russian Premier then suggests a compromise over Baraza, have you considered any alternative or revised policy in regard to our position in Baraza and toward the Pact countries?”
“As long as I am President, there will be no compromise when it concerns defending democracy anywhere.”
“Mr. President,” a rasping voice called out. It was Reb Blaser, of the Miller newspapers. All eyes were upon him as he pushed forward, and Dilman waited, regarding him with distaste. “Mr. President,” said Blaser, “of course, the Senate will have something to say about what you have just announced. Are you aware that a sampling poll made of the Senate members last night, by the House managers, indicates that the sentiment stands eighty senators for your conviction, twenty for your acquittal, and therefore the Senate has thirteen more votes than the necessary two-thirds required to impeach you? Wouldn’t that—”
“Mr. Blaser,” said Dilman, “the main forces in my command are committed to defending democracy in Baraza, not in the United States Senate. I am here to discuss foreign affairs. Perhaps you might better ask your question of former Secretary of State Eaton, who seems to have become an expert on domestic affairs.” For the first time, there was laughter, and then Dilman added, “If you’ve ever gone to a prize-fight, you will know that the judges’ ballots are not counted before the first bell, but after the last bell—”
“Except when there’s a knockout!” Blaser shouted.
Dilman ignored him. “That is all, gentlemen.”
The United Press International correspondent intoned, “Thank you, Mr. President.”
Briskly, Dilman left the Cabinet Room, parted with Flannery at Miss Foster’s desk, and returned to his own desk in the privacy of the Oval Office.
He switched on the television set and dropped into his swivel chair, exhausted.
When the picture came on the screen, it showed Nat Abrahams, in the latter part of his summation of the defense case, earnestly addressing the senators.
“—absurd even to consider that the President violated the Constitution, disregarded the law, displayed contempt for your noble body, by his necessary removal of Secretary of State Eaton,” Abrahams was saying. “Learned senators and judges, as we have attempted to show the other three articles to be a maliciously woven fabric of falsehoods, let me now remind you that the more serious charges embodied in Article IV represent the autocratic, intemperate vengefulness of a small group of legislators. Let me hark back to 1868, when another President’s entire impeachment revolved around his right to override the Tenure of Office Act, ancestor of the New Succession Bill, which President Dilman challenged. Chief Justice Chase, who sat on the bench then, where Chief Justice Johnstone sits now, made the following sage remark, as applicable and important in these troubled times as it was in that day: ‘Acts of Congress,’ he warned, ‘not warranted by the Constitution, are not laws. In case a law believed by the President to be unwarranted by the Constitution is passed, notwithstanding his veto, it seems to me that it is his duty to execute it precisely as if he had held it to be constitutional,
except
in the case where it directly attacks and impairs the executive power confided to him by the instrument. In that case, it appears to me to be the clear duty of the President to disregard the law, so far at least as it may be necessary to bring the question of its constitutionality before the judiciary tribunals.’
“So spoke a Chief Justice, in the only other impeachment of an American President in our history. So speak I, on behalf of our President today. The issue is simple. President Dilman assumed office swearing to preserve, protect, defend the Constitution. How could he do so, how could he carry out his duties, if another branch of government, by means of a doubtful law, and from motivations not necessary to repeat, stripped him of his power to thus preserve, protect, defend? If the President has no longer the power to remove an adviser who is acting as President behind his back, an adviser ready to sell out democracy in Africa to the Soviet Union while the lawful President himself, determined to save that democracy, is rendered helpless, where, then, is left the executive branch, and where, then, is left the Constitution itself? Learned senators—”
The telephone behind him buzzed, and Dilman sat up, lowered the volume of the television set, and spun around to the console.
“Yes?”
The voice was Miss Foster’s. “Mr. President, I’m sorry, but there’s a new policeman at the north gate who insists on speaking to you directly. He says there is someone at the gate who claims to be a relative of yours and wants to see you. He wouldn’t tell me more.”
“A relative?”
“I told him you couldn’t be—”
“One moment, Miss Foster.” On impulse, he said, “Connect me with the gate.”
He waited, wondering.
A troubled male voice came on. “Mr. President—”
“Yes—yes—”
“I know I’m not supposed to disturb you, but the person insisted I contact you directly. I know there are crackpots and impostors every day, at least a half dozen daily coming around like this, but this one, she showed me an old beat-up snapshot of you, a photograph from her purse, signed by you, and she—”
“She?” said Dilman slowly.
“A young lady, Mr. President. She claims to be your daughter. I wouldn’t give her the time of day, you understand, because—how should I put it?—she looks white to me—but the newspapers did say you—you have a daughter like that—still, the identification cards in her wallet say her name is Dawson, Linda Dawson, which doesn’t make sense, except she says you might recognize that name even though it’s not her real name, but I thought I ought to—”
“What does she give for her real name?”
“She says her name is Mindy—yes, that’s right—Mindy Dilman, like it’s supposed to be, and she says for me to tell the President she’s better now, and she’s been away too long—”
For the first time in weeks, Dilman felt a real smile ease the muscles of his face.
“Mister,” Dilman interrupted, “I have an idea that young lady is neither a crackpot nor an impostor. You show her right in. You tell Mindy—her father is waiting for her. Now, hurry up! Don’t leave her standing around!”
* * *
In the paneled and book-lined library of their early English house in Georgetown, at ten minutes to eleven in the morning, Arthur Eaton and Kay Varney Eaton sat side by side on the couch, concentrating their attention upon Zeke Miller, who was gesticulating on the television screen as he approached the end of his closing address on behalf of the House managers before the United States Senate.
“And so, honorable senators,” Miller was saying, “since the able manager of the defense has chosen to bolster his concluding remarks with words borrowed from the impeachment proceedings of 1868, I feel that I can do no less upon behalf of the House indictment. Let me close my remarks in support of Article IV by referring to the wisdom of Representative Butler, as shown in the remarks made by him on that other historic occasion, and conclude by addressing to you the further remarks made by Representative Bingham before the Senate at that same trial.
“The words of Representative Butler, applicable to Article IV, are these: “This, then, is the plain and inevitable issue before the Senate and the American public—Has the President, under the Constitution, the more than kingly prerogative at will to remove from office and suspend from office indefinitely, all executive officers of the United States, either civil, military, or naval, at any and all times, and fill the vacancies with creatures of his own appointment, for his own purposes, without any restraint whatever, or possibility of restraint by the Senate or by Congress through laws duly enacted? The House of Representatives, in behalf of the people, joins this issue by affirming that the exercise of such powers is a high misdemeanor in office. . . . Whoever, therefore, votes “not guilty” on these Articles votes to enchain our free institutions, and to prostrate them at the feet of any man who, being President, may choose to control them.’ Senators, remember this, remember and do not forget a word of history’s warning, when you consider your vote on Article IV charged against President Dilman.