In High Places

Someone (James Howden recalled) had asked in a moment of intimacy with the President, ‘if Rapoport’s that good, why doesn’t he have your job?’

The President (it was said) had smiled benignly and answered, ‘It’s simply that I can get elected. Levin wouldn’t receive six votes for dog catcher.’

Along the way, while the President had been acclaimed for his shrewdness in choosing talent. Admiral Rapoport continued to attract animosity and hate in much the same proportion as before.

James Howden wondered how this austere and harsh-minded man would affect Canada’s destiny.

‘Before we go on,’ the President said, ‘I’d like to ask: have you been getting everything you need at Blair House?’

Arthur Lexington replied smilingly, ‘We’re being cosseted with kindness.’

‘Well, I’m glad of that.’ The President had settled himself comfortably behind the big desk. ‘Sometimes we have a little trouble over the road there – like when the Arabs burned incense, and part of the house along with it. Though I guess you won’t check under the panelling the way the Russians did, looking for concealed microphones.’

‘We’ll promise not to,’ Howden said, ‘if you’ll tell us where they are.’

The President gave his throaty chuckle. ‘You’d better cable the Kremlin. Anyway, I shouldn’t be surprised if they slipped their own transmitter in while they were about it.’

‘That might not be such a bad arrangement,’ Howden said easily. ‘At least we’d get through to them. We don’t seem to be doing much of a job by other means.’

‘No,’ the President said quietly, ‘I’m afraid we don’t.’

There was a sudden silence. Through a partially opened window the sound of traffic on B Street and children’s cries from the White House playground, drifted in faintly. From somewhere close by, muted by intervening walls, a clack of typewriter keys could be sensed rather than heard. Subtly, Howden realized, the atmosphere had changed from flippancy to deadly seriousness. Now he asked, ‘For the record, Tyler, do you still hold the opinion that open major conflict, within a comparatively short time, has become inevitable?’

‘With all my heart and soul,’ the President answered, ‘I wish that I could say no. I can only tell you – yes.’

‘And we’re not ready, are we?’ It was Arthur Lexington, his cherubic face pensive.

The President leaned forward. Behind him a breeze stirred the curtains and twin flags. ‘No, gentlemen,’ he said softly, ‘we are not ready, and shall not be, until the United States and Canada, acting in the name of freedom and the hope of a better world we cling to, have manned, together, our single border and our common fortress.’

Well, Howden thought, we’ve come to the point quickly. The eyes of the others upon him, he said matter-of-factly, ‘I’ve given your proposal for an Act of Union a great deal of consideration, Tyler.’

There was a ghost of a smile on the President’s face. ‘Yes, Jim; I imagined you would.’

‘There are many objections,’ Howden said.

‘When something of this magnitude is involved’ – the voice came quietly across the desk – ‘it would be surprising if there were not.’

‘On the other hand,’ Howden declared, ‘I may tell you that my senior colleagues and I are aware of substantial advantages in what is proposed, but only if certain considerations are met and specific guarantees given.’

‘You talk of considerations and guarantees.’ It was Admiral Rapoport, head thrust forward, speaking for the first time. His voice was taut and crisp. ‘No doubt you, and the colleagues you refer to, have taken into account that any guarantee, from whatever source, would be useless without survival.’

‘Yes,’ Arthur Lexington said, ‘we’ve considered that.’

The President interjected quickly, ‘A point I’d like us to hold in mind, Jim – you, too, Arthur – is that time is against us. That’s the reason I want us to move swiftly. It’s also why we must speak plainly, even if we ruffle some feathers in the doing of it.’

Howden smiled grimly. ‘There’ll be no ruffled feathers, unless they’re on your eagle. What do you suggest first?’

‘I’d like to cover the ground again, Jim; that’s what I’d like to do. Go over what we talked of last week by telephone. Let’s be sure we understand each other. Then we’ll see which way the compass points from there.’

The Prime Minister glanced at Lexington who gave the slightest of nods. ‘Very well,’ Howden said. ‘I’m agreeable to that. Will you be the one to begin?’

‘Yes, I will.’ The President settled his broad-shouldered body in the swivel chair, half-turning from the others and towards the sunlight outside. Then he swung back, his eyes meeting Howden’s.

‘I spoke of time,’ the President said slowly. ‘Time in which to prepare for the attack which we know inevitably must come.’

From the sidelines Arthur Lexington asked quietly, ‘How long do you think we have?’

‘There is no time,’ the President answered. ‘By reckoning, reason, logic, we’ve used it all. And if we do have time – for anything – it will be by God’s good grace alone.’ Softly: ‘Are you a believer in God’s good grace, Arthur?’

‘Well,’ Lexington smiled, ‘it’s a nebulous kind of thing.’

‘But it’s there, believe me.’ Above the desk a hand rose, paw-like, fingers spread as if in benediction. ‘It saved the British once when they stood alone, and it may yet save us. I’m praying that it will, and I’m praying for the gift of a year. There can’t be any more.’

Howden interjected, ‘Three hundred days is what I’d hoped for myself.’

The President nodded. ‘If we get it, it will be from God.

And whatever we get, tomorrow will be a day less, and an hour from now, an hour less.’ The voice, with its Midwestern tone, quickened. ‘So let us consider the picture as we in Washington see it now.’

Point by point, with a master’s instinct for order and summary, the brush strokes filled in. First the factors which Howden had described for his own Defence Committee: the primary protection of US food-producing areas – key to survival after nuclear attack; the bristling missile bases on the US-Canada border; the inevitability of missile intercept over Canada territory; Canada the battleground, defenceless, destroyed by explosion and fallout; its food areas poisoned…

Then the alternative: missile bases to the North, greater US striking power, early intercept with reduction of fallout over both countries, avoidance of the battleground, and a chance for survival. But the desperate need of speed, and authority for America to move quickly… The Act of Union as proposed; total assumption of Canadian defence by the United States, and joint conduct of foreign affairs; disbandment of all Canadian armed forces and immediate re-recruitment under a joint Oath of Allegiance; abolition of border restrictions; customs union; the twenty-five-year term; a guarantee of Canadian sovereignty in all matters not proscribed…

The President declared simply: ‘In face of our common peril, which knows no border and respects no sovereignty, we offer the Act of Union in friendship, esteem, and honour.’

Now there was a pause, the gaze of the small sturdy figure behind the desk ranging quizzically over the other three men. A hand went up to push back the familiar greying cowlick. The eyes beneath were wise and alert, James Howden thought, but behind them was an unmistakable sadness, the sadness perhaps of a man who has achieved so little of his lifetime’s dream.

It was Arthur Lexington who interposed quietly, ‘Whatever the motives, Mr President, it isn’t a slight matter to abandon independence and change the course of history overnight.’

‘Nevertheless,’ the President observed, ‘the course of history will change whether we direct its course or not. Borders are not immutable, Arthur; nor have they ever been in human history. Every border that we know will change or disappear in time, and so will our own and Canada’s, whether we hasten the process or not. Nations may last a century or two, or even more; but in the end there’s no forever.’

‘I agree with you. there.’ Lexington smiled faintly. He put down the drink he had been holding. ‘But will everyone else?’

‘No, not everyone.’ The President shook his head. ‘Patriots – the ardent ones, at least – have short-term minds. But others – if it’s put to them plainly – will face facts when they have to.’

‘Perhaps they may in time,’ James Howden said. ‘But as you point out, Tyler – and I agree – time is the one commodity we lack.’

‘In that case, Jim, I’d like to hear what you suggest.’ The moment had come. This was the time, Howden thought, for plain, hard dealing. Here was the crucial point at which Canada’s future – if one existed – would be determined. True, even if broad agreement were reached now, there would be more negotiating later on, and specifics – many specifics and infinite detail – would have to be hammered out by experts on both sides. But that would come afterwards. The big broad issues, the major concessions – if any were to be swung -would be determined here and now between the President and himself.

It was quiet in the oval room. There were no longer noises of traffic or children outside – perhaps the wind had changed; and the typewriter had stopped. Arthur Lexington shifted position on the sofa; beside him Admiral Rapoport remained still – as he had from the beginning – as if lashed in place. The President’s chair creaked as he swung it slightly, his eyes troubled and questioning across the desk, fixed on the Prime Minister’s hawklike, brooding face. We are merely four men, Howden thought… ordinary mortal men, of flesh and blood, who will die soon and be forgotten… and yet, what we decide today will affect the world for centuries to come.

For a moment, as the silence hung, James Howden’s mind was torn with indecision. Now that reality had come, doubt -as earlier – assailed him. A sense of history wrestled with a sane appraisal of known facts. Was his presence here, by its very nature, a betrayal of his own country? Was practicality -which had brought him to Washington – a matter for shame and not a virtue? There were spectres he had already faced, fears he had allayed. But now they arose, fresh and challenging again.

Then he reasoned, as he had in the days past, that the course of human history had shown national pride – the inflexible kind – to be mankind’s worst enemy, and ordinary people paid the price in suffering. Nations had gone down because of vainglory, when moderation might have civilized and saved them. Canada, he was determined, should not go down.

‘If this is to be done,’ James Howden said, ‘I shall need a mandate from our own voters. That means I must fight an election – and win.’

‘I’d expected that,’ the President said. ‘Will it be soon?’

‘Tentatively I’d say early June.’

The other nodded. ‘I don’t see how you could do it faster.’

‘It will be a short campaign,’ Howden pointed out, ‘and we’ll have strong opposition. Therefore I must have specific things to offer.’

Arthur Lexington put in, ‘I’m sure, Mr President, that as a practical politician yourself, you’ll see how necessary that is.’

The President grinned broadly. ‘I’m almost afraid to agree for fear you fellows will hold me to ransom. So let me say: yes, I’m sure you’ll get hell from your Opposition, but after all that’s no novelty for any of us here. You’ll win, though, Jim;

I’m sure of it. But as to the other – yes, I do see.’

‘There are a number of points,’ Howden said.

The President leaned back in his swivel chair. ‘Shoot! ‘

‘Canadian industry and employment must be safeguarded after the Act of Union.’ Howden’s voice was clear, his tone emphatic. He was no supplicant, he took pains to make clear, but an equal discussing equalities. ‘United States investment and manufacturing in Canada must continue and expand. We don’t want General Motors moving out because of customs union, consolidating with Detroit; or Ford with Dearborn. The same thing goes for smaller industry.’