General Parker Hardesty, at home with his wife, exploded. "That's a barefaced lie," he said. "I tried to slip just one paragraph in my Chicago speech and the Secretary's goddam censors killed it."
But once the President and the Senate, as the responsible authorities, make a decision, then, my fellow citizens, debate and opposition among the military must come to an end. That is the way in war: the commander solicits every possible view from his staff, but once he decides on his plan of battle, there can be no disputing it. Any other way would mean confusion, chaos and certain defeat. And so it also must be in the councils of government here in Washington.
In Quarters Six at Fort Myer, General Scott lounged in sports clothes in front of a portable TV set in his second-floor study. Generals Riley and Dieffenbach flanked him.
"You've got to hand it to him," Scott said. "For a man who's dead wrong, he's putting on the best possible face. If only he was that way where it counted."
Riley shrugged. "I'm not impressed, Jim," he said.
"The country's had it. He'll blow everything at Vienna."
Dieffenbach pulled out his wallet. "Not that anybody cares much," he said, "but I've got ten bucks that says Barney Rutkowski is the next chairman."
Scott smiled. "You're playing to my weakness, Ed. You're on. I think it'll be Palmer."
Early this week it came to my attention that the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Scott, and three other members of the Joint Chiefs were not only still opposing the treaty, despite its ratification, but were in fact organizing a formal group in an effort to prevent its implementation on the first of July.
Millicent Segnier and Eleanor Holbrook sipped highballs as they watched together in New York. "Ye gods," Milly cried, "don't tell me he's going to fire Jim?" Shoo recalled a Marine's arms around her neck, and thought: Jiggs must have done his job well. Maybe they'll make him a general or something. Aloud, she said: "Who cares, Milly? Love that Lyman."
I have the highest regard for General Scott. He possesses one of the finest minds in the government. His advice, over the months, has been of great value, often indispensable, on a hundred and one problems facing me and other civilian authorities. I know he ranks high in the esteem of his countrymen. So he does in mine too. When reports of his participation in an organized plan of opposition to the treaty reached me, I did not credit them. But General Scott, honest and forthright as he is, conceded frankly to me that such was the case.
In a Navy code room at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Lieutenant (jg) Dorsey Hough had a radio turned on full blast so he could hear it over the chatter of typewriters as sailors with headsets kept the message traffic of the Pacific Fleet flowing to Okinawa, San Francisco, Midway Island, and the ships at sea. Hough's feet were propped on a desk and a magazine lay open in his lap. "That's awful damn fancy language to use to fire a guy just because he bets on the horses," he muttered, half to himself. "That Lyman must be death on gambling."
In a Quonset hut on the New Mexico desert, Colonel John Broderick kicked angrily at the leg of the tripod holding his TV set. The machine crashed to the floor. "I've heard enough of that frigging lecture," he snarled to the major at his side. "If you ask me, we've got a Commie right in the White House, right in the White House!"
Furthermore, and I grant him the courage of his convictions, the General declined to abandon his plans for opposing the treaty further. That being the case, I had no choice but to ask for General Scott's resignation. He tendered it to me last night. Despite my great regret that the nation will be deprived of the talents of this able officer, I accepted his resignation.
Bells rang on teleprinters in newspaper offices across the country:
BULLETIN
GENERAL SCOTT FIRED
Admiral Farley Barnswell, in his cabin aboard the U.S.S. Eisenhower at Gibraltar, tugged at his ear and considered his own position. With Girard dead, did the President have any way of knowing about that memorandum he had signed? No, of course not. Could Girard have telephoned the President between the time he went ashore and the time his plane took off from Madrid? Maybe, but he doubted it. Girard had made no call from the Navy's shore facility at Gibraltar, and he wouldn't have had much time anywhere else. Barnswell rubbed his palms together nervously. Nothing to do now but wait this one out.
I also asked for and received, at the same time, promptly and with every courtesy and consideration, the resignations of three other fine officers: General Hardesty and General Dieffenbach, the Chiefs of Staff of the Air Force and Army, and General Riley, the Commandant of the Marine Corps. Since all these men followed their convictions with honor and courage, I shall request of the Congress that no attempt be made to deprive any of these officers of the full retirement benefits due them. These are small compensation for a lifetime of service to the country. In passing, I might say that I shall present to the Congress, soon after it reconvenes, proposed legislation to liberalize not only such benefits but also the basic pay scales of the armed forces.
Admiral Topping Wilson, commander of the Pacific Fleet, sat in his hilltop house in Honolulu, listening to the President's voice but looking across his porch to Diamond Head and the blue-green Pacific beyond. That message twelve hours ago from the President, canceling the Saturday alert, indicated that Operation Preakness had collapsed. Now his reactions were numbed. Whatever possessed him to join Jim Scott in such a wild venture? He was glad it was over. Honestly, what could Scott have done that Lyman wasn't doing already? Wilson fingered the silver stars on his collar and thought of the days when he stood on the bridge of a cruiser, leading his division into Pearl past the headland over there. He could feel salt spray on his cheeks, and he felt infinitely old.
In the den of a handsomely restored house in the Connecticut countryside, Harold MacPherson slumped in a chair in front of his typewriter. He had pulled out the last sheet just before the President went on the air. Now he slowly tore the whole sheaf of typescript in half, then into quarters, and finally into eighths. He walked to a wicker wastebasket and dropped the pieces in, letting the last shreds flutter off his fingertips. The country is dead, he thought. Dead. Ready to be buried. The Communists have gotten to Jordan Lyman and everything we've worked for so long is finished. He poured two fingers of whisky into a glass and downed it at a gulp. He stared moodily at the initials cut into the glass, turning the tumbler in his two hands, and then hurled it across the room to shatter in the old stone fireplace.
I am taking immediate action, of course, to fill the vacancies created by these resignations, so that there need be no concern about the security of the United States. I am appointing Admiral Lawrence Palmer, now chief of Naval Operations, as the new chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The Chief Justice of the United States has kindly consented to administer the oath of office to Admiral Palmer in my office this afternoon.
It will doubtless be suggested that Admiral Palmer was no less opposed to the treaty than his former colleagues on the Joint Chiefs. That is true. However, once the decision was made by the President and approved by the Senate, he stilled his voice and joined the many other military leaders who closed ranks behind their commander in chief. He acted in the tradition of the Constitution and of the military academies, which have given this country a career officer corps that is not only professionally skilled but is also a bulwark of our liberties. Admiral Palmer is an officer of unexcelled ability, foresight and military knowledge, and I am sure he will discharge his new responsibilities well.