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- THE PRESIDENCY, Page 33The Cold Hand of War
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- By Hugh Sidey
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- In the grillroom of Washington's Metropolitan Club, a
- venerable institution once presided over by General William
- Tecumseh Sherman, the father of modern warfare, the diners grew
- silent last Wednesday when Secretary of State James Baker
- appeared on a television screen to declare that his talks with
- Iraqi Foreign Minister Tariq Aziz had failed.
-
- The cold hand of war was once again claiming the capital.
- Next day a White House security man spotted a suspicious
- bundle, and suddenly the iron gates clanged shut. Pennsylvania
- Avenue and the sidewalks in front of the mansion were swept
- clear of people and traffic. Police cars, lights flashing, came
- in coveys until the package was found to be harmless.
-
- Historian William Seale wondered if this was not the first
- time that the city had been caught up in the drama of a
- "scheduled war" since 1898. Back then, debate swirled for weeks
- as Washington matrons in their taffeta ruffles watched from the
- congressional galleries, and finally the weary William McKinley
- gave in to the fevered Congress and the U.S. went to war with
- Spain.
-
- Other students found echoes from 1860, when the North and
- the South amassed troops and arsenals and the muddy streets of
- Washington were churned by dashing horses carrying men to
- desperate meetings -- all in vain -- to stave off the coming
- apocalypse that some sensed, but most did not.
-
- This time there are fewer illusions and no jaunty warriors
- or exultant emissaries. Television has brought the world into
- the galleries and to the White House. The foe is half a globe
- away, and the destructive forces gathered in the Saudi desert
- bear no comparisons to the minieball and grapeshot.
-
- Yet some things never change. The men who argue travel in
- dark limousines, not carriages, but they go over the same
- routes and to the same places. The agencies that must make war
- if it comes -- in this age, the Pentagon, chiefly -- are as
- before swept up in a riptide of dread, a mixture of the pall
- of death and the exhilaration of using the awesome machine they
- have designed. The Pentagon last week worked around the clock,
- its corridors filled with wary brass and eager arms merchants.
-
- Gallows humor, as it has throughout our history, made its
- comeback. Performer Mark Russell kept his political jokes
- up-to-the-minute. "Bush said that with the U.N.'s permission
- the sneak attack on Iraq will begin Jan. 15 . . . Jim Baker and
- Iraqi Foreign Minister Aziz met in Geneva. Mr. Aziz brought his
- family, all his belongings and his resumes."
-
- At such times in the past, the floors of the two houses of
- Congress have become the people's exchange, and it was that way
- again last weekend for the war-powers debate. No Washington
- matrons showed up in taffeta, but the galleries were filled
- with a cross section of Americans, most young, many in uniform.
-
- Down below, the lions stalked one another, plainly sobered
- by the moment but relishing their time in the spotlight. In the
- Senate the towering Daniel Patrick Moynihan of New York stood
- in the back row in brown suede shoes to plead his case.
- Massachusetts' Ted Kennedy, not so long ago a wild political
- youngster, rose as a silver-haired patriarch. Near him, Iowa's
- Tom Harkin, popping pills to settle an unruly stomach, his hair
- a little too long for a true corn-belt troubadour, watched and
- waited to gather up some of the moment's somber glory. History
- is made of such things in such times.
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