The president rolled his chair back and stood, crossing his arms. He voiced his thoughts to the three men as he walked back and forth. “I think the American people will see through his charade as a political gambit, don’t you?”
When no answer came immediately, President Crawford stopped and faced Franco. ‘ don’t, do you?”
“Mr. President, I am concerned if the wrong spin is put on it, the attention of the media will be more on him and his committee and their interpretation of the crises. This attention will provide Patton a forum to shout to the American people that the administration failed to act properly. I have this nightmare of the news media screaming how our failure to maintain military readiness caused the deaths of these American sailors. How cutting the defense budget was directly … “
Franco paused and in a low voice that slowly rose in tempo said, “I have this nightmare of Senator Patton dancing around the White House screaming, ‘,’ with CNN broadcasting it to the nation as he dances. Mr. President, he will twist and maneuver the committee to every advantage to make you and this administration look bad … how you shirked America’s global and national responsibilities.” Franco took a deep breath and then softly added, “Of course, sir, I am trying to put the worst face on it.”
“Well, you’re doing a damn good job, Franco. I would hope it wasn’t the best face. And I can’t imagine Senator Patton dancing around the White House.” President Crawford looked at Bob Gilfort and Roger Maddock and smiled. “Makes the mind boggle with the thought of Patton with his two hundred pounds plus twisting and turning around the White House.”
“May be, sir,” Franco added softly, “But twisting and turning with words is what Patton does best.”
The president nodded. “I know, Franco. What do you gentlemen propose we do to lessen the impact of this committee?”
Bob cleared his throat and set his cup of coffee on the low coffee table in front of him and Roger. “Sir, I would recommend calling the Democratic leadership in both houses and put pressure on them to delay this committee until after the conflict. You have enough on your mind.
Shift some of this political battle to the Hill, where it belongs.”
“I have already talked with Senator Hill and Congressman Ford. They have already begun to rally our forces,” Franco added.
“Maybe I should call the Senate majority leader, Senator Miller.”
Franco’s eyes widened and he shook his head roughly. “No, sir. Don’t do that! If you call him, when the media discovers it — probably within minutes after you hang up — they’ll interpret it as weakness in the administration, of you caving in to the Republicans. That nose of Senator Patton will be twitching with the smell of blood. He’ll intensify everything he’s doing in a leap for the jugular.”
President Crawford smiled. “Franco, I thought he was already going for the neck. You have this nightmare of Senator Patton dancing around the White House. I have one of my head on a stake in front of the Senate with Patton and his cronies chanting while wearing blue-painted faces and dancing around it.”
“Shouldn’t have watched that old movie Braveheart the other week, sir,” Roger Maddock said, drawing a short round of laughter from the men.
“Thanks, Roger. Sometimes those old movies relax me.” President Crawford touched the spot on his nose where Bethesda surgeons had removed a small growth a month ago. The gesture made him think of his wife for a few seconds, shut up in the Navy hospital only six miles away. He sat down again. Up and down, up and down, he thought. So many things to do to run this nation.
“Okay, Franco. You win. I won’t call Paul yet. However, I will keep the option open. Why don’t you see — low level, of course — if you can get him to call me.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President.” Franco did not intend to call Miller’s office. He would let the president’s request simmer for a couple of days and by then, President Crawford would have either forgotten he asked Franco to have the senator call or the War Review Committee would be dead.
“We still need to develop a course of action, a strategy, on how to handle the War Review Committee. It starts next week.”
“Mr. President,” Franco said, “we need to take the initiative away from Senator Patton. And we can do it by displaying the strength of character that has been the hallmark of your administration.”
“How do you propose we do this, Franco?”
“I know we discussed this last week, and I know you opposed it at the time, but I would like to ask you to reconsider relieving Admiral Cameron.” Franco held up his hand when he saw President Crawford open his mouth to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roger Maddock uncross his legs and lean forward.
“Sir, we can take the initiative away from Senator Patton by relieving Admiral Cameron and bringing him back. You do that, you take the teeth out of that committee for a time because the media will focus on the admiral.”
“You relieve him, you’ll piss off every patriotic American in the nation,” Roger Maddock said angrily. “The man has lost his wife in a terrorist attack, and you want to use him as a political sacrifice!”
President Crawford shook his head and raised his pencil toward Donelli, who began to speak faster, running his words together like a machine gun, ignoring the secretary of defense’s outburst.
“Hear me out, please, Mr. President. Admiral Cameron was the senior Navy person in charge when the USS Gearing was attacked and sunk. It was under his leadership the ship was conducting the Freedom of Navigation operation within Libyan territorial waters. It was under his leadership that the USS Lasalle and that other ship — what was her name? — USS Mount Whitney?” “No, Franco,” Roger said, his voice betraying irritation. “Simon Lake. USS Mount Whitney is the flagship for the Second Fleet.”
Franco waved his hand, dismissing the difference. Second Fleet, Third Fleet — too many Goddamn fleets in his book.
“And USS Simon Lake were attacked and sent to the bottom,” Franco finished.
“Weren’t sent to the bottom,” Roger corrected testily. “The car bomb damaged their sterns, causing their sterns to settle on the bottom. Both ships are raised now.”
“And the Navy recognizes Cameron’s responsibility. Last week, after Cameron finished burying his wife, he visited the chief of naval operations, who personally informed him that eventually he was going to have to explain the events surrounding the sinkings. The only reason the Navy hasn’t recalled him to Washington is because of the current combat operations ongoing in Korea and North Africa. If we do this, it isn’t going to surprise Cameron. He is a career Navy officer. They expect to be relieved when something goes bad while they are in charge. It is part of their heritage. It’s a Navy thing, Mr. President. We may even disappoint him if we don’t relieve him! We use this Navy tradition of responsibility as part of our administration. Show the American people we can make the hard decisions, even when it goes against our grain.”
President Crawford held up his hand. “Enough, Franco. You have asked me twice to relieve this man. He may have been in charge when”—He waved his hands in the air—“all this happened. But the man lost his wife and right now is leading the Navy efforts in that theater. There are a lot of things I do for the sake of the administration, but I like to think it is done with America’s best interests at heart. I will not sacrifice a military person, regardless of their rank, for the purposes of relieving some political heat.” Then, softly, the president continued. “Besides, we are hurting for flag officers to lead our military operations. Why would I bring him home if we don’t have someone who can relieve him? The Navy just retired a rear admiral SEAL for something he did, and you want me to sacrifice a man who lost his wife in a terrorist attack that was trying to kill him? The press would slaughter me, and Senator Patton would grin all the way to the stake. And we both know who would be tied to it.”
Franco looked at Roger Maddock, who was nodding furiously in agreement with the president. “Roger, Admiral Pete Devlin is on C
ameron’s staff, right?”
“I believe so. He was the commander of the Naval Air Forces in the Mediterranean but has been moved up as the second-in-command of Sixth Fleet.”
Franco turned to the president. “Mr. President, this has been more of an air campaign than anything else in the last two weeks. If we relieve Cameron, then we order Devlin to take over.”
Roger ran his hand through his hair. Did this man ever listen to the president or anyone else other than his own sly and devious mind?
“You’re wrong, Franco. The air operations are backup and defensive in nature right now. We have Marines occupying Algiers. The good news is the Army has rescued the Marines who were stranded in southern Algeria along with the American and allied evacuees who were with them. The only remaining American land operation in North Africa is the Algiers occupation, and as soon as the remaining American hostages are located and rescued, they will be departing.”
“Even better, Mr. President. Since the Marines have the lead in the theater, then bringing back Admiral Cameron to face responsibility for the devastating attacks in the Mediterranean will not hurt the ongoing military operations.”
Bob Gilfort glanced at the two antagonists in the room. He’d give Roger odds-on favorite in a free-for-all — probably with all of them — except for the president, who had a few pounds and inches of height on the buff secretary of defense. Times like these made him wish the draft or some sort of service to one’s country had been retained in the United States.
None of them in the room had any military experience. Bob knew Roger prided himself on the six years of listening and learning from admirals and generals and even captains and colonels who trekked in and out of his office on a daily basis. Bob nodded at the thought, causing Franco to think the secretary of state was agreeing with him.
Smart men and women never hesitate to learn from others, even those who many times they considered intellectually inferior. He knew he and Roger had their differences — professional, from Bob’s viewpoint.
Unfortunately, Roger was one of those people who found it hard to separate a professional difference from a personal one.
Bob had military friends, too. He knew admirals and generals managed multiple disciplines. You didn’t put an Air Force general in charge of solely air or an admiral in charge of only sea or an Army or Marine Corps general in charge of just ground. Today’s joint service flag officers were multidisciplined, as they like to say. Look at what they did, putting an Army general in charge of the Joint Task Force African Force. Admiral Cameron ran the earlier joint task force to conduct an evacuation operation, but when the evacuation became a hostage situation, the Joint Chiefs of Staff had renamed it African Force. As missions changed, usually joint task force designations changed. It helped to refocus military units on the tasks ahead.
“Admiral Devlin may be a good relief for Admiral Cameron, but Admiral Devlin has only been a two-star for less than a year, and if you fleet him up, as the Navy says, then you raise him to three-star. He may not be able to handle it,” Roger objected. Christ! Was he going to have to go back to the Department of Defense and face his warriors with this news? It had taken him his entire tenure as secretary of defense to develop the level of confidence and trust they had in him now.
“Sure, he can handle it, Roger,” Franco argued. “Have you looked at his record?”
“No, but—”
“Well, I have. He is a combat hero from Desert Storm, led air strikes against the Taliban in ‘01, and survived a shootdown by the Iraqis in 2002.”
“Well, maybe but—”
“Wait a minute, you two,” President Crawford interrupted, holding up his hands. “Drop the issue of relieving Admiral Cameron. At this time, I am not going to circumvent the Navy’s own investigation. Franco, if the Navy determines Cameron needs to be relieved, then we’ll look into replacing him. But, I want the administration above this investigation. You are worried about me calling Paul Miller, but on the other hand, what would the press do if I personally ordered Cameron back before the Navy finished its own investigation?”
“Mr. President—”
“Enough, Franco. This time I am overruling you. What the press would say is that we are running scared of the War Review Committee and are using Cameron to keep lions off of the administration.”
Franco shook his head. “No, sir, that isn’t why we would bring him back—”
“Sure it is, Franco. You’d do anything to twist and mislead —” Roger added.
President Crawford held his hand up to stop the two. “We need to go on to other issues, gentlemen.”
Roger shut his mouth, forcing himself to swallow the words he was about to shout. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch. Someday, you little wimp, he thought. Bob gently reached over and touched the secretary of defense’s knee, which had begun to bounce up and down, shaking the couch. Catching Roger’s attention, he winked.
“Mr. President, it is a very small risk we run if we bring Admiral Cameron back, but if we spin this—”
Roger’s eyes narrowed. Christ! Doesn’t the man know the word stop?
“Franco, I don’t want to spin it. I don’t want to throw a good person to the wolves to save our administration some embarrassment. I have enough on my mind without adding human sacrifice on top of it. Let the Navy handle it.”
Franco leaned back. Roger took an audible breath, surprised, amused, elated that the president finally stood up to “Little Caesar.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President. You are right. It is something I should have thought of but didn’t,” Franco said, nodding in agreement. He was satisfied. He had gotten what he wanted. Within two days, he would have the Navy recall Cameron. The president and the administration would stand above it. They would refuse to intervene, saying the internal investigation by the Navy takes precedence, and they could argue effectively that the War Review Committee directly interfered with Cameron’s rights. Oh, yes, he could milk this one. President Cameron was right about keeping the administration above the investigation. Donelli never hesitated to change his own plans and ideas when better ones emerged or his own career dictated. He was the master of the spin and looked forward, in a perverse way, to the coming confrontation with Senator Patton much like a boxer looks forward to his or her next bout. He could balance the Cameron relief with orchestrating some sort of awards for the commanding officer of the USS John Rodgers and its crew. What was the man’s name? He should remember it; it had been mentioned in the papers nearly every day.
Crawford nodded once and tossed the pencil on the desk. It rolled a few inches before coming to a rest against his coffee cup. “Good. We still need a plan on how to stall Patton’s game. Franco, that is your job, so instead of trying to find a Christian to feed to the lions, go out and develop a solid counter to the War Review Committee.” He stroked his chin. “Something legal, with a patriotic twist on how this committee hurts our men and women in Korea and the Mediterranean.”
Franco nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. President. I have put myself on your schedule for later today to discuss several options. A media blitz demonizing the War Review Committee as being ill timed along with being unpatriotic is an option. Should we also think about awarding some of these heroes the Medal of Honor?”
“Good, you’re thinking on the right track, Franco. Find us two of three, but Franco, make sure they truly deserve the award. I do not want to denigrate the highest military honor in the nation because of politics.”
The president rose and walked around to the front of the desk and leaned back against it. He crossed his arms. “Gentlemen, that about concludes everything but one tiny, tender item. My wife.” He looked down. The president’s voice broke slightly. “As you know, she is suffering from severe depression. Severe enough that if it had not been for the maid the other evening, I would be a widower today.” President Crawford’s throat tightened. He cleared it a couple of times. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the three faces staring at him. “Sh
e has been in Bethesda for two days. It is only a matter of time before the press discovers the real reason for her admittance. In about ten minutes, I am going to Bethesda to see her and explain that I intend to go before the American people and tell them why she is in the hospital. I know she will understand and will allow me to do that. I think there is enough of the old Helen in her that she’ll realize that it is better to be forthright about her condition.”
“The press—” Franco started, leaning forward.
“The press will be sympathetic, Franco,” President Crawford snapped.
“Not all reporters are demons and devils. Most are common Joes and Janes who go home at night and take their clothes off just as we do. I remember a press club dinner I attended when I was a congressmen.
Veteran Sam was there. He was old even then, and we can count ourselves lucky he’s retired again and only comes out a couple of times a year to snipe at us. What I wanted to say was that Sam was one of the speakers, and he said something I have never forgotten. It was a simple thing we learn as children and probably forget as we spin and twist the English language so we can be elected. What he said was, ‘ tell the truth.
If you don’t we’ll’— and he was referring to the press—‘find out.”
And, he is right.”
“Telling the truth means never having to remember anything,” Roger interjected.
Bob Gilfort, quietly scribbling in his notebook, looked up. “I think you are right, Mr. President. If you can convince your wife, Mr. President, and if she is able to be by your side when you tell the American people her problems, you will invoke the sympathy of the entire nation.”
“That’s right,” interjected Franco, hardly bothering to keep the excitement out of his voice. “And, it will detract from the War Review Committee. It will put Senator Patton on the defensive. Anything he says against you, sir, will be seen as being unsympathetic to your personal problems. You should go on television to tell—”
Cobra Page 6
