A hard rain september 19.., p.15
A Hard Rain: September 1962, page 15
Well, according to the old goat, she had been, but as the President and his brother suspected, not everything ‘the Ambassador’ said about women was to be trusted. Especially, with a lady like Clare Boothe Luce, who had never made any secret of having been the lover of among others Winston Churchill’s son, Randolph and during the war, the future author, then fighter pilot, Roald Dahl, a man some dozen or more years her junior.
JFK had established that she had been Kenneth Keating’s source for his numerous prognostications on Cuba and Soviet bad intentions. Notwithstanding, he had come away from the encounter, charmed as always by his guest whom he had known for over twenty years as a presence in the wealthy, privileged circle in which his family moved, with no little food for thought. Not that he was going to forget that Clare’s sources had axes to grind; they were dissidents, exiles many of whom had lost everything when the Batista regime had fallen and thus, they were hardly impartial witnesses or interpreters of anything going on in Cuba four years on from the revolution.
The Cuban ‘situation’ was certainly ‘concerning’, if not yet an existential threat to the United States. In other words, nothing Clare Luce had told him had substantially moved the ‘threat’ dial. Nevertheless, he had come away from the tete-a-tete reassured that his decision earlier that month to authorise Curtis LeMay to draw up what amounted to a pre-invasion bombing plan had been wise.
The wisdom of this had been confirmed a few days ago when the US Navy had overflown the Russian cargo ship Kasimov, obviously en route for Cuba and photographed crates purportedly the size and shape of Ilyushin Il-28 bomber fuselages on its deck.
Inevitably, LeMay wanted to bomb first and ask questions later; a good trait in a warrior, not so good in a political leader who did not want to see his Party punished in the forthcoming mid-terms.
And in any event, the Administration had enough trouble in Mississippi at the moment without working itself into a lather over a third world country in the Caribbean!
Chapter 30
Sunday 30th September 1962
Cambridge
Massachusetts
USA
Both Joanne and her husband had been relieved – and quietly proud – to hear from their son’s own lips how well he was settling back into the milieu and the regimen of Yale Law School.
The Brenckmanns had always worried more about Dan, their second son, a lot more than they ever had about Walter junior, or Sam, Dan’s younger brother who, even now was somewhere ‘out west’ attempting to make his way as a travelling troubadour of all things.
Junior was always going to follow his father into the Navy, it was as if he had been born to wear the uniform. And Sam, well, Sam was just one of those free spirits it would have been cruel, just plain wrong, to attempt to cage. Their daughter, Tabatha, the youngest of their brood at eighteen, had gone up to Buffalo a fortnight ago; that had been a horrible wrench but again, their once ungainly duckling had needed to spread her wings and besides, Joanne’s sister would keep a weather eye on her. Tabby rang every two of three nights – that frequency would decrease with time, her parents knew that – and she would be coming home for Thanksgiving, and after that, the Christmas holiday. Wise parents were forever grateful for small mercies.
No, Dan was the one they had lost – the most – sleep over. As a boy he had been inquisitive, a little bookish before his time, earnest, possibly overly vulnerable and consequently, got accustomed to taking overly hard knocks. In a way, he was more of a loner than Sam, less gregarious, happier in his own company and inherently single-minded, just not about anything in particular for very long which was probably what explained his sudden dropping out of his first stab at law school. He had wanted to be a latter-day Mark Twain, or to write histories, been an intern at two Boston papers without fitting in or knuckling down, and to his parents’ chagrin, melancholy at periods since his late teens.
Neither Joanne or his father cared what had ‘turned him around’; it might have been Junior taking him aside, or something else, but either way, a year ago, Dan had come to them and said he wanted to qualify for the Massachusetts Bar.
They had worried that this was merely his latest ‘fad’ but had been proven wrong. Dan had worked several day jobs, driven delivery trucks, gone landscaping, picked up handyman work in the neighbourhood to pay his way as he moved back into the Cambridge family home and assiduously spent every spare minute of the day with his head in his law books, talking through cases and scenarios with his father in preparation for ‘starting over’. Dan, demonstrating a new sense of pragmatism had planned to work his way through law school, and abandoned all hope of a return to Yale and initially, despite his parents’ encouragement, been chary about even applying for readmittance.
Dan had not expected, let alone asked, Joanne and Walter to pay a cent towards his college fees; he had dug the hole he was in, and he planned to work his way out of it. Dan had never completed his second year at Yale Law; now he was starting his final year having passed the second-year exams back at his old alma mater. It was irregular, practically unheard of, and would not have happened had not Claude Betancourt, the Brenckmann family’s friend and guardian angel, Walter’s long-time boss and mentor, called in a raft of favours.
But Dan did not need to know that.
Granted, he had probably worked most of it out for himself; some things were better not said.
Mother and father had gone to church that morning with their son, eaten together and now they were settled in the living room around the house’s television, sipping coffee, waiting for the President to speak to the nation.
Tonight, the screen flickered a little.
The President was speaking from the White House.
In the name of segregation, the Governor of Mississippi was defying federal judges and subverting the rule of law in his State. If it were permitted to go unchallenged; anarchy could be the only outcome. JFK had signed an executive order authorising the Department of Defense to mobilise – ‘federalize’ – the National Guard, and to order in Federal Marshals to take whatever action was required to uphold the law for all citizens in Mississippi.
The Governor, Democrat Ross Barnett, was a staunch supporter of racial segregation and he had barred the doors of the University of Mississippi to James Meredith, a black US Air Force veteran, contrary to the express will of the courts, in what was just the latest – and it seemed the straw that had broken the apocryphal camel’s back – in a series of racist and anti-libertarian actions of the borderline, and outright illegal and flagrantly unconstitutional actions he had taken since assuming office in 1960.
Enough was enough.
“Good evening,” the President said gravely. “The orders of the court…are beginning to be carried out. Mr. James Meredith is now in residence on the campus of the University of Mississippi.”
There was gravitas and an underlying anger in those words.
“This has been accomplished thus far without the use of National Guard or other troops. And it is to be hoped that the law enforcement officers of the State of Mississippi and the Federal Marshals will continue to be sufficient in the future. All students, members of the faculty, and public officials in both Mississippi and the Nation will be able, it is hoped, to return to their normal activities with full confidence in the integrity of American law.”
A momentary pause to allow this to sink in.
“This is as it should be, for our Nation is founded on the principle that observance of the law is the eternal safeguard of liberty and defiance of the law is the surest road to tyranny…”
“He’s not pulling any punches,” Dan murmured.
“The law which we obey includes the final rulings of the courts…even among law-abiding men few laws are universally loved, but they are uniformly respected and not resisted. Americans are free…to disagree with the law but not to disobey it…no man, however prominent or powerful, and no mob however unruly or boisterous, is entitled to defy a court of law. If this country should ever reach the point where any man or group of men by force or threat of force could long defy the commands of our courts and our Constitution, then no law would stand free from doubt, no judge would be sure of his writ, and no citizen would be safe from his neighbours.”
“Well said, well said,” Walter Brenckmann averred grimly.
“…Mister Meredith brought a private suit in Federal court against those who were excluding him from the University. A series of Federal courts all the way to the Supreme Court repeatedly ordered Mr. Meredith's admission to the University. When those orders were defied, and those who sought to implement them were threatened with arrest and violence, the United States Court of Appeals…made clear the fact that the enforcement of its order had become an obligation of the United States Government. Even though this Government had not originally been a party to the case, my responsibility as President was therefore inescapable. I accept it. My obligation under the Constitution and the statutes of the United States was and is to implement the orders of the court with whatever means are necessary, and with as little force and civil disorder as the circumstances permit. It was for this reason that I federalized the Mississippi National Guard as the most appropriate instrument, should any be needed, to preserve law and order while United States Marshals carried out the orders of the court and prepared to back them up with whatever other civil or military enforcement might have been required.”
The President visibly sucked in his chagrin at having been compelled to wield the full panoply of his powers.
“I deeply regret the fact that any action by the executive branch was necessary in this case, but all other avenues and alternatives, including persuasion and conciliation, had been tried and exhausted. Had the police powers of Mississippi been used to support the orders of the court, instead of deliberately and unlawfully blocking them, had the University of Mississippi fulfilled its standard of excellence by quietly admitting this applicant in conformity with what so many other southern State universities have done for so many years, a peaceable and sensible solution would have been possible without any Federal intervention.”
The President went on to praise Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Texas, Louisiana, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Kentucky, stating he was proud of their record in desegregating their universities and tried, very hard to strike a conciliatory note.
“I recognize that the present period of transition and adjustment in our Nation's Southland is a hard one for many people. Neither Mississippi nor any other southern State deserves to be charged with all the accumulated wrongs of the last 100 years of race relations. To the extent that there has been failure, the responsibility for that failure must be shared by us all, by every State, by every citizen.”
The President wanted this to be the end of the matter, not just one more battle in an ever-lengthening, divisive campaign even if he knew in his heart that this was a pipe dream.
“Mississippi and her University…are noted for their courage, for their contribution of talent and thought to the affairs of this Nation.”
He mentioned Lucius Lamar, a Confederate who had later served the United States as Secretary of the Interior under Grover Cleveland and become a Justice of the Supreme Court, a dedicated servant of the common good.
He reminded his audience that Mississippi is “the State which had four Medal of Honor winners in the Korean War alone. In fact, the Guard unit federalized this morning…is part of the 155th Infantry, one of the 10 oldest regiments in the Union and one of the most decorated for sacrifice and bravery in 6 wars.”
To be the President of all the people of the United States was not easy. His appeal, specifically directed at the students of the University of Mississippi but speaking to a far wider audience, the citizens of the United States was solemn, and heartfelt.
“I close therefore, with this appeal to the students of the University, the people who are most concerned. You have a great tradition to uphold, a tradition of honour and courage won on the field of battle and on the gridiron as well as the University campus. You have a new opportunity to show that you are men of patriotism and integrity. For the most effective means of upholding the law is not the State policeman or the marshals or the National Guard. It is you. It lies in your courage to accept those laws with which you disagree as well as those with which you agree. The eyes of the Nation and of all the world are upon you and upon all of us, and the honour of your University and State are in the balance. I am certain that the great majority of the students will uphold that honour.”
There was time for one more thought.
“There is in short no reason why the books on this case cannot now be quickly and quietly closed in the manner directed by the court. Let us preserve both the law and the peace and then, healing those wounds that are within, we can turn to the greater crises that are without, and stand united as one people in our pledge to man's freedom.”
Then.
“Thank you and good night.”
[The End]
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading A Hard Rain, I hope you enjoyed it. If not, I am sorry. In either event, I believe that civilisation needs people like you to keep the written word alive.
I must also thank John A. Wallen for his exhaustive proofing and sub-editing of the final manuscript of this book.
He and I are confident that this will contribute to the reader’s enjoyment of the book.
So, thank you again, John!
________
In writing the Timeline 10/27/62 saga – millions of words and counting now – telling the story of an alternate reality/world post 27th October 1962, there are so many possibilities and only so much space even in very long books.
To the best of my knowledge the words and the deeds of the real people referenced in the Countdown to War series have a basis in historical fact up until but not necessarily after, 27th October 1961.
It has always been my contention that good ‘alternative history’ must have a starting point and a robust context rooted in actual events to be believable. In other words, the new timeline must not simply appear out of thin air, abracadabra, at the waving of some magical literary-fantastical wand.
We can know what history was, that is, what happened next is solely because we are living after it has happened. At the time, we may think we know what history will be, but we cannot know; the future really is a strange country, by and large unknowable. Therefore, if we make plans wholly on the basis of what we know happened in the past we are, almost always, riding for a fall.
So, when I write alternative history the hardest part is figuring out what was different about this timeline from the one we have observed in our own subjective reality, universe, whatever?
This is COUNTDOWN TO WAR, my alternative history of what happened in the year before the Cuban Missile Crisis went horribly wrong, in effect, the story readers do not usually get to read, told month by month.
In that sense, this series is a direct prequel to the events in OPERATION ANADYR, and Book 1 of the USA Series AFTERMATH.
I am putting COUNTDOWN TO WAR out there in the form of regular episodes at intervals of a month, one: partly because I have not ‘done’ a book in this fashion before and I am curious to discover how it will be received.
And two: because otherwise it would mean releasing one very, very long book – or in fact, several long books – which realistically, would not see the light of day until sometime in late 2024 or early 2025 (which is when, ideally, the next Timeline 10/27/62 Main Series book THE MISSING should be hitting the virtual bookshelves!)
Lastly.
HMS Barossa & HMS Scorpion
I know that although I specifically state that in the Countdown to War Prequel Series only events before 27 October 1961 ‘happened’, much of the narrative concerns what did actually happen with only very small deviations from that true historical record.
However, I feel bound to add this note about HMS Barossa in 1962 during her passage to join the Far East Fleet. Her Gunnery Officer was not Miles Weiss, and to the best of my knowledge no member of her wardroom was deemed in any way inadequate, or incapable of satisfactorily carrying out the full range of his duties. Likewise, no ’technical’ officer was seconded to Barossa at Malta to fill the vacancy created by any officer on the Barossa being sent home, for any reason.
Further to this, as to HMS Scorpion, Paul de Vere Grealish is also a fictional invention although I have endeavoured to accurately reflect that ship’s movements and the experiences of her crew during this period. In this I have been greatly assisted by [then] Commander A.J. ‘Jock’ Miller’s (Scorpion’s Commanding Officer's) entertaining and anecdotally informative monograph about the destroyer’s last commission.
James Philip
Spring 2024
Other Books by James Philip
Europa Reich
Book 1: Moonshot
Book 2: Olympiad
Book 3: Triumph
Book 4: Exile
New England Series
Book 1: Empire Day
Book 2: Two Hundred Lost Years
Book 3: Travels Through the Wind
Book 4: Remember Brave Achilles
Book 5: George Washington’s Ghost
Book 6: Imperial Crisis
Book 7: The Lines of Laredo
Book 8: The Halls of Montezuma
Book 9: Islands in the Stream
Book 10: The Gathering Place
Book 11: Rising Sun
Book 12: Golden Gate
Book 13: Manifest Destiny
Book 14: Tom Paine’s Bones
Book 15: The Divine Wind
The Guy Winter Mysteries
Prologue: Winter’s Pearl
Book 1: Winter’s War
Book 2: Winter’s Revenge
Book 3: Winter’s Exile
Book 4: Winter’s Return
Book 5: Winter’s Spy
Book 6: Winter’s Nemesis
The Bomber War Series
Book 1: Until the Night
