The Man

With reluctance, Senator Watson withdrew the deposition, turned it over in his gnarled hand several times, considering it, and then he looked up.

“You are generous, sir, and a gentleman,” he said to Dilman. “You must understand, however, that this humane decision on your part can have no influence on my vote tomorrow afternoon. I would not have judged against you if I believed you had behaved against my daughter as first charged by herself and the House, solely on that indictment, and I ca

“I do.”

Senator Watson tore the document in half, and then tore it into halves again, and he stuffed the shredded paper into his overcoat pocket.

Once more he looked at Dilman. “I must judge you tomorrow on your merits as a President of the United States. I must decide in the matter of Baraza, taking that as being representative of all other matters and the most crucial, whether you acted wisely or unwisely as a President, and whether you acted as an American President or as a Negro President. The majority of my Southern colleagues are against you, and have judged you on other issues. The minority of members are for you, and have judged you on other issues. But the final weight of tomorrow’s independent vote falls on a great number of our one hundred who sleep tonight and who have not prejudged you, but must awaken with a final decision based on consideration of your merits as a man who is President.”

“I ask for nothing more, whatever the outcome,” said Dilman quietly.

Senator Hoyt Watson came wearily to his feet. “Thank you, Mr. President,” he said, and then, head nodding, he left the room.

From somewhere distant, a clock struck midnight, and time went on past midnight, and the life of the new day had begun.

IX

Born of some half-remembered superstition from Douglass Dilman’s childhood was his hope that the sun would shine on this momentous and decisive day of his life, and its appearance would be a lucky omen, melting the hard hearts of his enemies and reviving the spirits of his allies.

Nature was deaf and blind to human superstition.

There was no sun this late November day. Bellicose, brooding clouds, like threatening hosts of strife, gathered low in the bleak sky. The air was wintry, the temperature twenty degrees above zero, and the steady wind from the Potomac swept rawly over the high-strung capital city.

The headlines slashed across the newspapers on the table behind his Oval Office desk were as chilly and ominous as the weather: CRUCIAL IMPEACHMENT VOTE IN SENATE TODAY; PREVIEW POLL INDICATES “CONVICTION CERTAIN”… TENSION MOUNTS IN AFRICA; SECRECY ENVELOPS AMERICAN TROOP MOVEMENTS; U.S.S.R. MAINTAINS SILENCE… SAVAGE RACE RIOT BEFORE WHITE HOUSE CONTROLLED AS FLAMING CROSS BURNS ON PRESIDENT’S LAWN; WHITES AND NEGROES CLASH IN DOZEN CITIES.

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 Fla

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 a

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 reco

“ ‘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.”’ ”