“Mr. Duncan votes aye,” Joe Martin intoned, and the Clerk of the House recorded his vote. They weren’t going to be able to override President Truman’s veto of the bill that cut off funds for the U.S. occupation of Germany. They had a solid majority, including most Republicans and the growing number of Democrats who saw that staying on Truman’s side was lucky not to have cost them their jobs in the last election and that it damn well would get them tossed out next time around. A good majority, yes, but not a two-thirds majority. Too bad, Jerry thought.
The roll call droned on. Sure enough, when it finally finished, they fell twenty-two votes short of ramming the budget down the President’s throat. “Mr. Truman has put himself on record as saying he will not sign a War Department appropriation without money for continuing the occupation of Germany,” Speaker Martin said after announcing the results. “I want to put the House of Representatives on record, too. We will not send him an appropriations bill with that item in it.”
Members of the majority, Jerry Duncan loud among them, clapped their hands and cheered. Several Congressmen shouted “Hear! Hear!” as if they belonged to the House of Commons in London. People who’d voted against the override booed. Some of them shook their fists. Jerry couldn’t remember seeing that kind of bad behavior here. Everybody’s temper was frayed. Maybe things had been like this in the runup to the Civil War. The trial of wills over the occupation was tearing the country apart now.
“Order! We will have order!” The Speaker thumped his gavel. “The Sergeant at Arms has the authority to take whatever steps may prove necessary to restore order,” Joe Martin continued. The Democrats-and a handful of pro-occupation Republicans-went on booing. He banged the gavel again. Something like order slowly returned.
Out of it, Sam Rayburn bawled, “Mr. Speaker! Mr. Speaker!”
Had Jerry been up there in the Speaker’s seat, he wouldn’t have recognized the Texas Democrat. When Rayburn was Speaker of the House, he’d made a point of ignoring people whose views he didn’t fancy. That was one of the perquisites the Speaker enjoyed, and few Speakers had enjoyed it more than Rayburn.
But Joe Martin said, “The distinguished gentleman from Texas has the floor.” He clung to courtesy even as it collapsed around him.
“Thank you, Mr. Speaker.” Rayburn could also be courtly when he felt like it-and he could be an iron-assed son of a bitch when he didn’t. He sounded slightly surprised. Had he expected Martin to pretend not to hear him? It looked that way to Jerry Duncan. Any which way, Rayburn went on, “You do realize, Mr. Speaker, that if you refuse to give the War Department the money it needs to keep holding down the Nazis, you will force us out of Germany in spite of the President’s conviction, and the U.S. Army’s, that we need to stay there?”
“Yes, Mr. Rayburn, I realize that. And that is the point, after all. In their wisdom, the framers of the Constitution gave Congress the purse strings. Not the President. Not the U.S. Army. Congress. If the President and the Army prove unwise, as they have here, we have the responsibility to exercise wisdom for them,” Joe Martin said.
“Hear! Hear!” This time, Jerry shouted it at the top of his lungs. He was far from the only Representative who did. Opponents of cutting off funds for the occupation yelled back. People on both sides took off their jackets and tossed them aside, as if expecting they’d be brawling in the aisles any second.
“Order! There will be order!” the Speaker of the House insisted loudly. The microphone made each blow of his gavel sound like a gunshot. After what had happened to poor Gus van Slyke-whom he’d known for years-Jerry wished that comparison hadn’t leaped into his mind, but it was the only one that seemed to fit. Also as if using a gun, Martin aimed a forefinger at Sam Rayburn. “The gentleman from Texas may continue-without, I hope, any undue outbursts this time.”
“I hope the same, Mr. Speaker. And I do thank you for recollecting I had the floor,” Rayburn said. “You say you and those who agree with you aim to stop the President and the Army from acting unwisely.”
“I say just that, sir, and it is the truth,” Joe Martin replied. Jerry Duncan nodded vehemently.
“Okay. Fine. You have-the Congress has-this high and fancy responsibility.” Rayburn waited.
The Speaker of the House waved in agreement. “I say that also, and it too is the truth.”
“All right, then. Here is my question for you: what happens when you exercise that responsibility and it turns out to be the biggest mistake since Eve listened to the serpent in the Garden of Eden?” Sam Rayburn demanded ferociously. “President Truman likes the saying ‘The buck stops here.’ When something goes wrong, he admits it. When the blame lands on you-and it will, Mr. Speaker, it will-when it lands on you, I say, will you be man enough to shoulder it?”
“If that happens, which I do not expect-” Speaker Martin began.
“Fools never do.” Rayburn planted the barb with obvious relish.
Bang! went the gavel. “You are out of order, as you know very well.”
“So is the House-the inmates are taking over the asylum.”
Bang! Bang! “Enough!” Joe Martin snapped. Rayburn sat down, grinning. Business resumed. Jerry wished the Texan hadn’t asked such a prickly question.
XXVI
President Truman had a high, raspy, annoying voice. Diana McGraw had never really thought of it that way till after Pat got killed, but she sure did now. Of course, for the past couple of years Truman had been saying things she didn’t like and didn’t agree with. That made a difference, whether she thought so or not.
“We will carry the President’s radio address live at the top of the hour,” the radio announcer said, sounding as proud as if Truman were Moses about to read the brand new Ten Commandments on his station.
Even stolid Ed snorted at the fellow’s tone. “Are we supposed to get excited, or what? It’s not like Truman can do a Fireside Chat or anything.”
“Not likely!” Diana exclaimed. “When FDR said something, you wanted to believe him. Whenever Truman opens his mouth, you know he’s going to lie to you. That’s all he knows how to do.”
The radio filled up most of the time till the top of the hour with commercials. In a way, Diana supposed that was good: it meant there were plenty of things to buy again. During the war, a lot of normal stuff had been unavailable-and a lot of ads went away. Diana had to admit she hadn’t missed them. Now the stuff was back, and so were the pitchmen trying to convince people it was wonderful. Everybody knew the war was over…except the stubborn Missouri mule-no, jackass-in the White House.
At last, and precisely as if he were selling soap or cigarettes, the announcer said, “And here is the President of the United States!”
A long electric hiss. A burst of static, cut off almost instantly. Then Harry Truman’s voice came out of the radio speaker: “Good evening, my fellow citizens. The Nazis still lurking in Germany have proved again how dangerous they are. Laughing at the very idea of justice, they flew a C-47 into the building where their captured leaders would have gotten a fairer trial than any they gave their countless victims. This C-47 was hijacked in the air. As best we can determine, the American pilot and copilot were both callously murdered. The Nazis seem to have been able to smuggle extra explosives onto the airplane. We are still investigating how they did it.”
“Because somebody who should’ve kept his eyes open was asleep at the…darn switch,” Ed McGraw said. “Anybody can see that.”
If anybody can see it, why did you say it? Diana wondered-one more thought she wouldn’t have had before a death in Germany turned things upside down and inside out for her. All she said out loud was a quick, “Hush. I want to hear him.”
“Much as we wish they weren’t, the Nazi fanatics are still dangerous,” Truman went on. “Because they are, our soldiers need to stay in Germany until we can be sure the country will stay peaceful and democratic-that’s ‘democratic’ with a small ‘d’-after we go home.”