At the approach of the Prime Minister the five already in the room made to rise, but Howden waved them down, moving to the tall-backed, thronelike chair at the table's head. 'Smoke if you wish,' he said. Then pushing back the chair, he remained standing, and for a moment silent. When he began, his tone was businesslike.
'I ordered our meeting to be held in this chamber, gentlemen, for one purpose: as a reminder of the oaths of secrecy which all of you took on becoming Privy Councillors. What is to be said here is of utmost secrecy, and must remain so until the proper moment, even among our closest colleagues.' James Howden paused, glancing at the official reporter. 'I believe it might be best if we dispensed with a stenographic record.'
'Excuse me. Prime Minister.' It was Douglas Martening, his intellectual's face owlish behind big horn-rimmed spectacles. As always the Clerk of the Privy Council was respectful but definite: 'I think it might be better if we had recorded minutes. It avoids any disagreement subsequently about who said exactly what.'
Faces at the centre table turned towards the shorthand writer, who was carefully recording the discussion concerning his own presence. Martening added, 'The minutes will be safeguarded, and Mr McQuillan, as you know, has been trusted with many secrets in the past.'
'Yes, indeed.' James Howden's response was cordial with a touch of his public presence. 'Mr McQuillan is an old friend.' With a slight flush the subject of their discussion looked up, catching the Prime Minister's eye.
'Very well,' Howden conceded, 'let the meeting be recorded, but in view of the occasion I must remind the reporter of the applicability of the Official Secrets Act. I imagine you're familiar with the act, McQuillan?'
'Yes, sir.' Conscientiously the reporter recorded the query and his own response.
His glance ranging over the others, Howden brought his thoughts into focus. Last night's preparation had shown him clearly the sequence of steps he must follow in advance of the Washington meeting. One essential, to be achieved early on, was persuasion of others in Cabinet to his own views, and that was why he had brought this small group together first. If he could obtain agreement here, he would then have a hard core of support which could influence the remaining ministers to give him their endorsement. ^
James Howden hoped that the five men facing him would share his views and see the issues and alternatives clearly. It could be disastrous if the fulminations of lesser brains than his own resulted in needless delay.
'There can no longer be any doubt,' the Prime Minister said, 'of Russia's immediate intention. If there were ever any doubt, events these past few months have surely dispelled it. Last week's alliance between the Kremlin and Japan; before that, the Communist coups in India and Egypt and now the satellite regimes; our further concessions on Berlin; the Moscow-Peking axis with its threats to Australasia; the increase in missile bases aimed at North America – all these admit to only one equation. The Soviet programme of world domination is moving to its climax, not in fifty years or twenty years, as we once comfortably supposed, but now, in our generation and within this decade.
'Naturally, Russia would prefer its victory without recourse to war. But it's equally plain that the gamble of war may be undertaken if the West holds out and the Kremlin's objectives can be reached in no other way.'
There was a reluctant murmur of assent. Now he continued. 'Russian strategy has never been afraid of casualties. Historically their regard for human life is notably less than our own and they are prepared not to be afraid now. Many people, of course – in this country and elsewhere – will continue to have hope, just as there was hope that someday Hitler would stop gobbling Europe of his own accord. I do not criticize hope; it is a sentiment to be cherished. But here among us we cannot afford its luxury and must plan, unequivocally, for our defence and for survival.'
As he spoke, James Howden was remembering his words to Margaret of the night before. What was it he had said? Survival is worthwhile, because survival means living, and living is an adventure. He hoped it would be true, in the future as well as now.
He went on, 'What I have said, of course, is not news. Nor is it news that in some degree our defences have been integrated with those of the United States. But what will be news is that within the past forty-eight hours a proposal has been ', made, directly to me by the US President, for a measure of integration as far-reaching as it is dramatic.'
Swiftly, perceptibly there was a sharpening of interest around the table. 'Before I tell you the nature of the proposal,' Howden said, speaking carefully, 'there is some other ground I wish to be covered.' He turned to the External Affairs Minister. 'Arthur, shortly before we came in here, I asked for your assessment of present world relations. I'd like you to repeat your answer.'
'Very well. Prime Minister.' Arthur Lexington laid down a cigarette lighter he had been turning over in his hand. His cherubic face was unusually solemn. Glancing to left and right in turn, he said evenly, 'In my opinion, international tension at the moment is more serious and dangerous than at any other time since 1939.'
The calm, precise words had honed an edge of tension. Lucien Perrault said softly, 'Are things really that bad?'
'Yes,' Lexington responded, 'I'm convinced they are. I agree it's difficult to accept, because we've been poised on a needle point so long that we're used to crises as a daily habit. But eventually there comes a point beyond crisis. I think we're close to it now.' '
Stuart Cawston said lugubriously, 'Things must have been easier fifty years ago. At least the threats of war were spaced at decent intervals.'
'Yes.' There was tiredness in Lexington's voice. 'I suppose they were.'
'Then a new war…' It was Perrault's question. He left it unfinished.
'My own opinion,' Arthur Lexington said, 'is that despite the present situation we shall not have war for a year. It could be longer. As a precaution, however, I have warned my ambassadors to be ready to burn their papers.'
'That's for the old kind of war,' Cawston said. 'With all your diplomatic doodads.' He produced a tobacco pouch and a pipe, which he began to fill.
Lexington shrugged. He gave a faint smile. 'Perhaps.'
For a calculated interval James Howden had relaxed his dominance of the group. Now, as if gathering reins, he resumed it.
'My own views,' the Prime Minister said firmly, 'are identical with those of Arthur. So identical, that I have ordered immediate partial occupancy of the government's emergency Quarters. Your own departments will receive secret memoranda on the subject within the next few days.' At the audible gasp which followed, Howden added severely, 'Better too much too early than too little too late.'
Without waiting for comment he continued, 'What I have to say next is new, but we must remind ourselves of our own position when a third world war begins.'
He surveyed the others through the haze of smoke which was beginning to fill the room. 'In the state of affairs today, Canada can neither wage war – at least, as an independent country – nor can we remain neutral. We have not the capacity for the first, nor the geography for the second. I offer this, not as opinion, but as a fact of life.'
The eyes around the table were fixed steadfastly upon his own. So far, he observed, there had been no gesture of dissension. But that could come later. 'Our own defences,' Howden said, 'have been, and are, of a token nature only. And it is no secret that the United States budget for Canadian defence, though not high as defence budgets go, is greater by far than the total of our own.'