Mark Coffin, U.S.S., page 26
“I knew that’s how you’d feel,” Senator Elrod said with a fatherly smile at Herb Esplin, who grinned cheerfully back. “My friend Senator Esplin always worries so about me. But he knows I know what I’m doin’—”
“You can say that again!” said the press tables’ anonymous commentator, and again there was laughter in which Jim Elrod amicably joined.
“—so he just shouldn’t worry so about me. Now, Senator Coffin, if you will please continue proceedin’ to the witness stand as you were doin’ when so unnecessarily interrupted by my good friend from Ohio—”
And amid a sudden flurry of lights and cameras and a tensing both in himself and in the audience, Mark did as directed.
At the witness stand he faced the committee, raising his right hand.
“Do you want me sworn, Mr. Chairman?”
“Oh no, Senator, certainly not,” his father-in-law said. “We don’t do that to senators because we figure all senators are honest and honorable men who don’t lie. In your case,” he added with a chuckle and a quite genuine respect, “we know that’s true. So please be seated, and proceed as you will.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman,” he said, thinking: God help me if Jim does find out. But his manner was outwardly calm and unperturbed as he began to speak.
“Mr. Chairman and members of the committee, I want to thank you for permitting me to appear before you this morning. I think my objections to the distinguished chairman’s bill can be stated very briefly and, I hope, succinctly.
“He says he proposes to increase the Defense Department budget immediately by ten billion dollars because the Soviet Union is, in his judgment, rapidly achieving military superiority over the United States and we must counter this at once by throwing in more billions on top of those we are already spending.
“I disagree with both his contention and his solution. I grant that the Soviet Union is indeed engaged, apparently, and has been for some years, upon a determined campaign to vastly increase its military forces all around the world. I do not agree that the way to meet this is to throw good money after bad. I think the way to do it is to economize in our own defense establishment, to eliminate waste, tighten up research and development, eliminate duplication and overlapping, institute much more stringent checks upon military spending, be sure every dollar counts, really get more bang for the buck. Nobody yet has really made that casual, easy slogan work: instead the same old wasteful ways have gone right along, business as usual. It can be stopped. I commend such a course to the new President of the United States and to the distinguished nominee for Secretary of Defense who awaits your confirmation here this morning.”
There was a scattering of applause from the audience behind him. He nodded and went on.
“Thank you. More fundamentally, however, I disagree with the distinguished chairman as to what the Soviet military expansion means. I do not think they are seeking military equality, possibly even in some areas superiority, to threaten us or our allies. I think they are motivated by considerations of their own security and defense. And even if they were not, Mr. Chairman and members of the committee, are we not strong enough to withstand them and to successfully counter any aggression they may attempt against us? Why do we poor-mouth our own strength, which is so very great in so many areas? Are we not taking counsel of our fears instead of our advantages? It seems to me they are quite sufficient to meet anything the Soviet Union might, in some misguided and mistaken moment, seek to throw against us.”
This time the applause was stronger and Jim Elrod looked up with a glance that quieted it for the moment.
“For these reasons I am opposed to the bill S.1. I would hope it would be reported out unfavorably by this committee, and I would hope that if it should reach the floor, it would be soundly defeated there.
“Let us make use of what we have: we have enough. And let us have confidence in our own strength and our ability to withstand attack: they are sufficient. Let us not permit hysteria to dominate what we do, because that way lies, not good policy, but poor defense and, ultimately, chaos in all we do.”
This time, as he concluded, the applause was loud, determined, and continuing despite Jim Elrod’s banging of the gavel. Apparently Mark had friends here this morning. Again he bowed his thanks, not daring to look around for fear he might see the face he did not want to see. Order presently returned and his father-in-law leaned forward.
“I thank the Senator for his views,” he said with a twinkle, “and I thank him for livin’ up to his word and bein’ brief and succinct. I don’t know whether the Senator rightly understands what it means to be a senator, because bein’ brief and succinct is certainly not a quality in abundance around here; but I dare say he may find himself able to overcome his tendency toward brevity as time goes by … Now, there’s just one point I want to discuss with the Senator a bit and then mebbe we can move on to Mr. MacDonald and his consideration.
“I will say to Mr. MacDonald, quite seriously, that I do appreciate his patience. I wanted to get my bill squarely before the committee because, for one thing, I want to ask Mr. MacDonald his own views on it; and for another, I wanted to give the distinguished Senator from California a chance to have his say on it right away, because lots of folks want to hear him and there’s a lot of interest in him personally, and I just thought he might like this opportunity. I know I’m sacrificin’ my own chance at television this evenin’ because all they’ll show will be him, but bein’ tied to him by bonds of matrimony with one very near and dear to me, and also bein’ rather fond of him in his own right, I decided to let him go ahead and have his fun with it.”
There was a ripple of laughter and more applause, this time for them both. Mark smiled.
“I thank the distinguished chairman, who certainly knows the regard is mutual. I just hope he won’t be too hard on me in his questioning, because, after all, this isn’t really a fun subject. It’s really deadly serious, as of course the Senator knows.”
“I do know that, of course,” Jim Elrod agreed, “and right on that point I want to ask the Senator this:
“Assumin’ for the moment that all his assumptions are correct, and that we have enough strength to meet any Soviet challenge if they should be so impolite and inconsiderate as to offer us one, does the Senator think we have the will to meet it? And I’m not talkin’ now about some all-out frontal confrontation, which I agree they don’t want and will certainly avoid if they can, but an indirect, sideways, blackmail sort of thing. What if we were suddenly confronted with somethin’ they wanted to do that threatened the security of this country and the free world in Africa or Latin America or Quebec or some other place, and they said: Put up or shut up. What does the Senator think we’d do then?”
“I would certainly hope we would stand up to them and make them back down,” he said. “Not with a lot of bluster and flag-waving, but just with a quiet firmness and determination. I would hope so, and I think we would.”
“I’d hope so, too,” Senator Elrod said, “and I’m glad the Senator is so positive of it, because unhappily I’m not. But now supposin’ his assumptions aren’t quite correct, and we don’t have quite the strength he says we do, and the Soviet Union is militarily superior, and then she faces us with a put-up-or-shut-up situation. What does the Senator think we’d do then?”
“That would be tougher, but again I would hope we would not panic but would stand firm; because of course I don’t accept the Senator’s theory that we are inferior. I think we have ample atomic arsenal and ample throw-weight—”
“Ah,” Jim Elrod said, “but that’s the rub, Senator. Mebbe we do have atomic superiority—though I’m nowhere near as sure of that as the Senator is, bein’ chairman of this committee and aware of a few things he may not be—but do we have it in more conventional areas where any such Soviet challenge as I envisage might likely occur? I wouldn’t expect them to try to eliminate our atomic arsenal, and I wouldn’t expect them to offer us a challenge where we’d feel compelled to use it. That isn’t what I’m talkin’ about. Narrow it down a bit, Senator. You’re thinkin’ global. Get it down to some little place that’s part of their bit-by-bit plan. What then?”
“I don’t know their plans, Senator,” he said, “and I’m not sure you do”—again he received applause and laughter—“but again, I don’t accept your contention that our conventional arsenal is incapable of handling it.”
“It’s not in very good shape,” Senator Elrod observed. “Leavin’ aside missiles and atomic warheads—where, counter to the Senator’s optimistic assumption, we are not ahead, but where possibly we still have sufficient to stand them off if it comes to that, which I don’t think it will—we are behind in ships, planes, tanks, men under arms—pretty much everythin’. So how does the Senator argue that we’re strong enough to withstand any kind of challenge? How does he argue that we shouldn’t immediately improve our position, as my bill provides?”
He paused, leaned forward intently. His voice became grave.
“This is not a game, Senator, you know. It is not somethin’ we can just close our eyes on and hope it will go away. Because as long as the Soviet Union continues to follow the pattern of buildup of the past two decades, it just isn’t goin’ to go away. It’s goin’ to get worse. And we’ve got to face it and do somethin’ about it, in my estimation.”
This time applause came for him; not so heavy, but substantial. Obviously he was both pleased and surprised.
“Senator,” Mark said doggedly when it died down, “I still believe that we have enough atomic power to withstand a direct challenge; and I still think our conventional weapons, over-all, are sufficient to maintain the balance of mutual deterrence so that we cannot be blackmailed in those smaller, less direct challenges you apparently foresee. So we remain, I guess, as we began: unconvinced on both sides. I hope your bill is defeated, and I shall do what I can to secure that result.”
More applause, for him. His father-in-law smiled.
“Well, Senator, I may say that I hope my bill passes, and I shall certainly do what I can to secure that result.”
Lesser applause, but approving, for him.
“If there’s nothin’ further you wish to say—”
“Nothing, thank you, Senator.”
“—and if no other members of the committee wish to question you—”
Around the semicircle a shaking of heads, many friendly smiles for Mark which he took, perhaps naively, to mean support, or at least willingness to consider his argument.
“—then you’ll be excused, with thanks, and we’ll move on to that Cabinet nomination my dear friend the Senator from Ohio thinks is so pressin’ this mornin’. Mr. MacDonald, if you will be so good as to come to the stand—”
And Mr. MacDonald, tall, white-haired, florid-faced, did some shaking hands with Mark as Mark picked up his notes and turned to leave.
“Good work,” Mr. MacDonald murmured in his ear. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Mark smiled.
“You’re going to get a few bumps here, then. But I’ll vote for you.”
“Thanks,” MacDonald said. “I’m not too worried about it.”
“Good luck,” Mark said, and started toward the door, smiling at many in the audience who waved, smiled at him, reached out hands to be shaken. Chuck gave him another approving signal. The television cameras followed him to the door, apparently a triumphal progress: young hero departing scene of victory. At the door Linda and Lyddie were waiting. Linda kissed him with what must have appeared a genuine warmth, Lyddie gave his arm an encouraging pat. He opened the door for them, turned for a last little bow and smile to his father-in-law and the committee, followed them out, closed the door carefully, took a deep breath and turned to find—only Linda and Lyddie. His relief must have shown in his face, for Linda said wryly,
“No such luck. She isn’t here.”
For a second he frowned, but Lyddie forestalled any retort by saying firmly,
“And a good thing, too! Quite enough to worry about this morning without that. I think you did a great job.”
“Thank you,” he said, allowing himself to be diverted, deciding on the safer course. “I thought it went pretty well.”
“It was good,” Linda agreed, coolly objective. “Of course it didn’t convince Daddy, and probably not many others, but you did it well. And he’s right about television: they will all feature you tonight, whether they agree with you or not—and most of them do. So from that standpoint it was a plus. Now where do we go, Judiciary committee?”
He glanced at his watch. It was eleven-fifteen.
“Let me step in the committee offices for a minute and call over there,” he suggested. “If Macklin is still on, maybe you’d like to join me for an early lunch—over at the ‘Rotunda’ restaurant on the House side of the Hill, say. We’ll have to catch a cab.”
“I’ve got a car and driver,” Lyddie said. “At your service, sir!”
He smiled.
“Good. Excuse me just a minute.”
He stepped into the committee office, made his call to Judiciary: Charlie was still on, and would probably continue after lunch. It might be late in the afternoon, even tomorrow, before Mark was called; be there at two p.m. and they’d see what happened. He thanked the Judiciary staff, called his office, spoke to Mary Fran: any calls? “Nothing of any importance,” she said, and added, “And no one of any importance.” “That’s good,” he said, and she said, “Yes,” in grave agreement. “Thanks, friend,” he said, which was, he realized, quite true—she had already become a genuine friend. “You’re welcome,” she said, sounding pleased. “Give old Charlie hell.” “I’ll do my best,” he promised. “Hold down the fort.” “With all guns ready,” she replied. He congratulated himself that he had one rock to depend upon in his office anyway, however slippery the other might be.
He thought the lunch might be awkward, but Lyddie, as he might have known, kept things busy with chatter and thus enabled the two of them to remain reasonably calm and polite. It was not, actually, a bad lunch; though even at the “Rotunda” he could not keep his eyes from wandering furtively from time to time, which he knew was not lost on his companions, though neither made comment. She was simply not there—maybe she wasn’t on the Hill at all today. But he suspected, with a tightening stomach as they went back to the Senate side, that his luck might not hold in Judiciary.
***
Chapter 3
Was it imagination, or was there an extra attentiveness in the way reporters swung around to watch the commotion as they entered? Did committee members and Charles Macklin look at them with an extra appraisal in amused and knowing eyes? Did Jim Madison, standing at the rostrum like some amiable cockatoo, greet his appearance with an extra smirk? Did the audience hum with smug and secret mockery because They Knew?
He shook his head with an angry impatience: that way truly lay disaster. Linda’s hand was tight on his arm; only he knew it was trembling. Lights suddenly glared upon them, the cameras zoomed in: they were on.
“Senator, are you prepared to document your charges against Mr. Macklin?
“I haven’t made any charges,” he said mildly. “I just have some comments I want to get on the record.”
“Aren’t they rather harsh comments, Senator?”
“They are opposed to Mr. Macklin’s confirmation. I don’t know if that makes them ‘harsh.’”
“He seems to think so. He was quite pointed in his comments about you this morning. Did you hear about them?”
“No, I did not,” he said, stomach tightening. “I was at Armed Services, as you know. However, my administrative assistant was here and he’ll fill me in.”
“Will you answer Mr. Macklin?”
“I don’t know,” he said, hearing himself beginning to sound impatient, telling himself he shouldn’t. “I’ll have to wait until I hear what he had to say. Now, if you’ll excuse us—here, dear, why don’t you and Lyddie sit over there”—and he ushered them toward the first two rows of the audience, roped off for important visitors. When they were seated, cameras still on them, he gave Linda a quick kiss, moved toward the witness stand where Jim Madison had come down off the rostrum to talk to Charlie Macklin. He was pleased to see Kal Tokumatsu, Clem Chisholm and Janet Hardesty already in their seats. He would have three friends, anyway.
As he went by the press tables he was greeted with what appeared to be general cordiality. Chuck stood up, shook his hand, drew him aside to murmur quickly in his ear, “I checked during lunch. She called in sick today so you don’t have to worry.” “Thanks, pal,” he responded with a great surge of relief. “I appreciate it…How have things been going?” he asked in a normal tone, including reporters in the immediate vicinity in his inquiry.
“Not bad,” Chuck said cheerfully. “He just thinks you’re a double-dyed son of a bitch for having the nerve to stand in his way.”
“Also immature, irrelevant and immaterial,” AP confirmed.
“To say nothing of illiterate, stupid, guilty of poor judgment and completely unable to appreciate the finer things in life, namely him,” UPI corroborated.
“Is that all?” he asked, feeling still more relief—apparently nothing had surfaced yet.
“That’s all this morning,” Chuck said, a slight warning note in his voice. “He still has a while to go.”
“I suppose,” he agreed, looking around the room freely now. “Anybody seen Brad Harper?”
“He was here at the morning session,” AP said. “I think he went to lunch with Madison and Macklin. He should have an interesting report for you.”
“Oh?” he said, the familiar hand tightening on his stomach once more.
“He’s coming in right now,” Chuck said, and again the warning note came and went.
