Part 20 - It's a Long, Long Journey     "It's a long, long journey,       So stay by my side.       When I walk through the storm,       You'll be my guide, be my guide." - Conservative and Unionist Party jingle, 1969 performed by The Seekers. (Sunday, 26 January, 1969) Tender readers are asked to consider the set of 'The West Wing'. This scene is similar but there are differences. What womenfolk there are are behind typewriters or plug switchboards. The men are crew-cut and clean-shaven, white-shirted with thin ties. Many are smoking pipes and even the thinnest are wearing braces. Familiar West Wing sounds are present but there are alien noises too - lavatories flushing and the occasional yelping as a beagle achieves assisted flight. A youthful-looking Mrs Dolores Landingham is there to give tender readers a feeling of continuity. Johnson was pleased with the new-look foreign affairs team he had established for his third term. With Robert at Defense, Bobby at State and Henry as National Security Advisor he had an enviable mix of talent, charisma and brains. However, he had not expected their first major challenge to be like this. "I have Mr Haughey on the line, Mr President," said Mrs Landingham. The President was joined at his desk in the Oval Office by McNamara, Kennedy and Kissinger as they clustered around the intercom. "Mr Prime Minister," said Johnson, "we've just received intelligence that British forces are driving to Dublin to arrest you." "Well your intelligence is a bit late," came the disembodied voice, "We've known for over an hour. My people are just taking me to a safe house now. Don't call me, I'll call you. I've got your number." There was a click. The President pressed a button, "Dolores, can you get me the Prime Minister of England?" Each of McNamara, Kennedy and Kissinger opened their mouths, as if to correct their Chief Executive's misstatement. They looked at each other and all closed their mouths, Kennedy half smiling. "Yes, Mr President" came Mrs Landingham's voice. It took about five minutes for contact to be made, while the foursome discussed what may have caused the PMOTUKOGBANI to launch the invasion. "Enoch, what the hell is going on with those British troops in Ireland?" demanded the President. "Well, that's really an operational matter. I daresay my Strategos is undertaking hot pursuit." Johnson turned the volume knob down. "His what?" he asked. Kissinger explained that by 'Strategos', the PMOTUKOGBANI meant General Walker, effectively the military governor of Northern Ireland. The President turned the knob back up. "I've got my secretaries of Defense and State on the line, who you know, and also my National Security Advisor, Dr Henry Kissinger." "Charmed, I'm sure," came the voice. Kennedy spoke, "Mr Prime Minister. This is no hot pursuit. I understand your troops are tying to seize the Taoiseach, Mr Haughey." "He is a suspect in the recent murder of Mr William Whitelaw. He is believed to have links with the assassins, possibly even supplying them with explosives. We need to take him in for routine questioning." "This is an invasion of a sovereign state," said the Secretary of State, "you are waging aggressive war against the UN Charter." Kissinger looked like his was about to qualify Kennedy's statement so the President put a cautionary hand on his arm. Best to let your opponent make his own arguments. "My dear Mr Kennedy," came Powell's most soothing tones, which is to say, not very, "you seek to tell me what is off-Charter? After your conduct unbecoming in Ulster with those civil rights agitators that may have even lead to the bombing." Robert McNamara was normally the most quiet of men. Despite his controlled tone the others could see that he was seething. "Mr Prime Minister, are you suggesting that in any way the actions of Americans could have prompted that horrible bombing?" "Mr McNamara, I am merely setting a context. Let me set another context. When your forces invaded the Dominican Republic some three years ago Her Majesty's Government raised no objections. You were, as you said, restoring order. And the Dominican Republic was in your, as you say, 'back yard'. Likewise when my predecessor, Baron Butler of Saffron Walden, restored order in Southern Rhodesia, there were no objections from the United States of America. Now when another of our colonies, this time adjoining us, descends into anarchy you propose that we do nothing. Why is it so?" "But the Irish Republic is no longer a colony," said Kennedy is a measured yet menacing voice, "It is an internationally recognised state. With close links to America." "Close links?" queried to voice, "She is not even a member of NATO. Why should you care more for her than, say, Finland?" The President raised a quizzical eyebrow. Kissinger pointed helpfully at the map of the world on the wall. Odd, thought Johnson, it's a different colour from the rest of Russia. He decided it was time to weigh in, "Mr Prime Minister. Enoch. America and England are old allies..." "The United States and Britain. Not that old. 1917-18. Late '41 to the present. With a bit of a blip in '56." "Our soldiers are fighting side-by-side in Vietnam..." "Yours rarely leave their fire-bases." Johnson sighed. His good cop was getting nowhere. He signalled to Kennedy. "Mr Prime Minister. You alluded to 1956 earlier. With the weaker state of sterling today you could scarcely welcome a run on the DUK..." "But Mr Kennedy, how presumptuous you are. If our dollar goes down our exports become cheaper and more competitive on world markets. My government has being supporting the rebuilding of the British manufacturing sector. What you propose sounds like just the shot in the arm we need." The National Security Advisor spoke to Powell for the first time. He pointed out that Britain was dependant on America for so many things. Key components for Polaris missiles, for example. "Ah, yes, Dr Kissinger. Thank you reminding me about those. We have two Resolution class ballistic missile submarines in the North Atlantic right now. Not sure where, exactly. Of course, I don't have a need to know. Again, operational matters, best left to subordinates." Kissinger very carefully explained that if it hadn't been for US arms sales, Britain wouldn't even have missile submarines. "Well of course, if we thought that we could rely on the United States to drop nuclear devices when and where we wanted to, we would never have needed to buy them. But the thing about selling something is, when you do that, you give possession of the item to the other chap. He can then do what he likes with it. Even use it against the vendor, if push comes to shove. The marketplace, don't you know? But when you buy something, every time you look at it, you aren't filled with gratitude for the shopkeeper. The world doesn't work that way." The President felt the conversation had become a little out of hand and if he wanted the world to keep working the way it had been he should cut things short. "Thank you very much, Mr Prime Minister, Enoch, for such an honest and frank statement of your position. We look for the prompt withdrawal of English troops and we must talk again as soon as possible." "British troops, Mr President. As soon as we have our man and order has been restored, our soldiery will be withdrawn. Pip-pip!" The call ended. The President looked at his colleagues and expressed his dissatisfaction with the intransigence of the PMOTUKOGBANI in colourful Texan. He then gave directions. "Bobby, get something together for the UN Security Council. Not too aggressive and not to detailed - the English are going to veto it anyway. We just want to outflank the Russians, don't want them seizing the moral high ground on this. Robert, get the security upgraded on all our bases over there - not red alert, just watchful. And Henry, you and I need to talk. When the two men were alone the President asked, "Henry, what was that about?" Kissinger asked politely for specifics. "Bringing up nukes. Whydja paint Enoch into a corner like that?" The security advisor explained that compared to America, Britain was weak. They must be reminded of their position so they would be suitably subservient. It was realpolitik. "Jesus, Henry! I've got a hard-ass for Secretary of State in Bobby. You've been here from Harvard for four weeks and he's rubbed off on you already?" Kissinger explained in a dignified way that no such thing had happened, that he, Kissinger, had made an extensive study while at Harvard of such great statesmen as Metternich. "Metternich, smetternich! You can't go carrying on like you are some powdered wig from 200 years ago. You trap more flies with honey than vinegar, Henry!" The younger man demurred. Had not the President himself laid down the procedure for capturing the hearts-and-minds of others? "Yes, Henry, but I've only got two hands. I want to save those for people like Ho and Brezhnev. For every one else I need them to do what I want kinda voluntarily." He looked very closely at Kissinger. "Tell me Henry, did you have a happy childhood?" Kissinger thought back to his first day at Fürth Höchschule. Being the only boy in his class forced to wear a yellow star on his tunic. And being teased when he couldn't climb the rope to the top of the gymnasium. He said nothing. It was only a short pause, then Johnson nodded and said, "I thought so." Kissinger stammered that America had to be strong. "She does, Henry. But there's toughness and there's toughness. The ancient Romans weren't pussies. They had this punishment going called 'decimation'. Many people think decimation means killing off everyone until only a tenth remained. But in fact it only meant killing one tenth part. Much more subtle and you're still left with a usable body of men. We can be tough on our enemies but if our friends step out of line, well, we're subtle." Kissinger nodded, in a thoughtful kind of way. "Look Henry, you're not in Harvard now, you're in Washington. It's a wonderful town. Take advantage. Go on a few dates." In a passable Brooklyn accent, Kissinger replied, "Yes, Mr President."

(Thursday, 3 April, 1969. Going on for Friday the 4th, actually.) The Leader of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition, Harold Wilson, felt naked this election night as he had almost four years ago. The rest of the loyal (and not so loyal) opposition was ensconced in their own constituencies, ready to appear at the declaration of the polls. He was at Ormskirk with Mary his wife and Marcia his secretary[1]. The only cabinet minister present was Bob Mellish, the chief whip. In the likely event of a Mellish victory, Bob's electoral agent would represent him. It had been an unusual election campaign. There were huge rallies for Wilson where ever he went. Many of the younger members of his team were drawing big crowds too, especially the Stansgates, whether together or separately. The wars were a worry, both Vietnam and the new one close to home. The Mirror had come out against the Irish invasion but had lost too many readers to the super, soaraway Sun and had recanted. That left only the Guardian among the leading papers that was openly critical of Powell's New Imperialism. There had been an unfunny cartoon by Gibbard that pointedly suggested that the country that Powell really wanted to re-annex was India. But eighteen years of Tory misrule! That should count for something. But even there the Tories' boy genii at Ogilvy & Mather had come up with a counter measure. They'd recruited a trendy youth band to come up with a song that played on the insecurity of the times and suggested that Powell, Powell!, was the right man to lead, nay, guide Britons at this time. And from reports Wilson had received from Conservative rallies the Middle Englanders weren't just lapping it up, they were singing along. But surely they couldn't be representative of the national constituency? The MORI poll certainly didn't think so but internal Labour polling was troubling. The Liberals were the wild card. The line between Labour and Tory had never been starker. Would the electorate clump around the two poles or would the Liberals steal moderate support from the two major parties? Richard Dimbleby's swingometer had been especially repainted since the 1964 General Election in order to take maximum advantages of the opportunities colour television offered. It was being used to good effect now as there were violent and confusing swings both for and against the government. Both parties were experiencing swings to themselves in safe seats, which was scarcely doing any good. Nationally the result seemed to be around 42% Labour and 40% Conservative, with the minor parties taking the rest. But in a number of crucial seats Labour was running second to either Liberals or Tories. Some strange victories to Labour. Some constituencies, not on Labour's priority target list but not safe either, were falling to Labour unknowns. People from the Stansgates' Programme, perhaps? Worse, some unexpected losses too, as Labour longtermers were being voted out in favour of young, earnest and toothy Conservatives. One young lawyer with a double-barrelled name, he looked the spitting image of Princess Anne, had just been declared elected in Ashfield.

Bob Mellish watched the boss slump deeper and deeper into his chair as the results came in. Labour had the most votes but it was becoming clear that the Tories would have a small but workable absolute majority in the Commons. Well those were the rules of the game, like them or not. Bloody disappointing, the fifth General Election in a row lost. And poor Harold, his second loss as leader. But Harold had to stay on. Without him the party would be hopelessly divided - George and Sunny Jim on the right - Michael and Peggy on the left. Lucky the boss wasn't a quitter. He'd bounce back. [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] In our timeline now the Baroness Falkender of West Haddon.