(3)
Top Secret
Not three months after September 11th, with all of the signs pointing to Osama bin Laden and his al-Qaeda network as the perpetrators of the worst crime on American soil in its history, George W. Bush couldn't get Saddam Hussein and his Iraqi regime out of his head. He knew his thinking wasn't rational; he would have to deal with bin Laden and the Taliban in Afghanistan first. The people closest to him were the very people who encouraged and enabled his Saddam fetish. They were determined not to let the President stray too far off the reservation.
The war in Afghanistan was going as planned, with the capture of Kabul by Northern Alliance fighters in November and the routing of the Taliban. The Taliban were easy to dislike, with their harsh treatment of women and their feudal laws. US planes were pounding suspected al-Qaeda strongholds in the Tora Bora mountains and it was largely presumed that Osama bin Laden was holed up in a fortified cave somewhere in those mountains. It seemed to be only a matter of time before he was either caught or killed. It was the USC Trojans versus South Dakota State Teacher's College. The focus of the Bush Administration already seemed to be pulling towards Iraq.
During this period, the President's inner desire for revenge on Iraq and Sadaam Hussein was kept burning by a group of men working just below the surface of the administration. Led by deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz, these guys–for they were all men–had grand plans to topple Saddam, seize the Iraqi oil fields, introduce democracy and free-market capitalism to the Arab Middle East, remove one of Israel's primary enemies, and establish a new forward base of operations for the American military all in one fell swoop. The best thing about it? It would be easy. The second best thing about it was that they had a willing participant in President George W. Bush, who wanted to establish his bonafides as a president who wasn't afraid of using his military in a decisive, forward-looking way. He had felt that his father had been too cautious in 1991, when at the end of the first Gulf War he could have gone all the way to Baghdad and gotten it over with then. His father, who had actually been a war hero, had always had to fight the "wimp" factor, but that wasn't going to be the case with the son. No, sir. Not on my watch. The President wouldn't talk to his father about Iraq; it was an embarrassing point of contention between them.
The only person in his Cabinet who seemed to offer caution was Secretary of State Colin Powell. "Don't let yourself get pushed into anything before you're ready for it," advised Powell. The President tended to dismiss such cautionary tutelage; anything that didn't his fixed ideas forward tended to bounce right into his brain's circular file.
On a cool winter day in December of 2001, the most powerful people in the United States government met in a converted family room at the Crawford Ranch, George W. Bush's Western White House, to discuss the ongoing game plan for the pre-emptive war on Iraq.
Present at the Crawford meeting along with President Bush were Powell, Donald Rumsfeld, Condoleezza Rice, George Tenet, Chief of Staff Andy Card, presidential advisor Karl Rove, CENTCOM Commander General Tommy Franks, and by video link, Vice President Cheney. The players were arranged around a long oak table with the President, wearing a brown leather bomber jacket, blue jeans, and cowboy boots, sitting in the middle. Also at the meeting, to the shock of everyone present except Karl Rove, Andy Card, and President Bush, was a small woman with a short blue-gray coif who appeared to be the age of someone's grandma. Sitting to George W. Bush's immediate right, with her hands folded on the table, the woman seemed to be almost asleep with a small smile on her face.
The President coughed loudly and then addressed the group. "Okay, people, listen up. Before we start, I'd like to introduce a special guest to our meeting. This is Mrs. Dolores Miller, and she's from Cottonwood City, Kansas." The President turned towards the woman. "Where's Cottonwood City, Mrs. Miller?"
"What, dear?"
"Cottonwood City. Where is it?"
"Oh, it's in Kansas."
"Yes. But what part of Kansas is it located in?"
"It's in Chase county, in the middle east part of the state, dear."
"The middle east! Probably pretty dangerous around there, huh Mrs. Miller? heh-heh-heh."
"What's that?
"Uh, never mind. Mrs. Miller is eighty-seven years–"
"Eighty-five. Let's not bury me too soon, young man!"
"Eighty-five. Mrs. Miller is eighty-five years young. We thought, uh, Karl and I thought that it would be a good idea to bring a representative American citizen into these meetings every now and then to show the American public and the world that we're a free and open society with nothing to hide. Mrs. Miller represents America, don'tcha Mrs. Miller?"
"I what, dear?"
"Yes, you do. Now–"
"Mr. President! Mr. President!" was heard practically in unison not unlike a press conference. It seemed as though everyone around the table suddenly wanted to talk at once. Condi Rice got the President's attention first. "Uhh, Mr. President, could I quickly have a word with you and Andy outside for just a minute?"
"Uh, sure. Y'all keep Mrs. Miller occupied for a minute. We'll be right back."
At that, the President rose from his seat, as did Condi Rice and Andy Card, and they ducked out a side door.
Condoleezza Rice tried to keep her composure. "Mr. President, what is going on here? This is highly sensitive material we are discussing in that room—top secret at the highest levels–we can't have some stranger sitting in these meetings!"
"Now Condi, calm down, take it easy." The President faced his two open palms towards his National Security Advisor. "She's just a harmless little old lady from Kansas. I mean, what's she gonna do, who's she gonna tell anything to? She can't hear anything anyway."
"Mr. President, Andy, you've got to know this is crazy. You don't agree with this, do you?"
"Uhh, well, I don't really see the harm." Andy Card looked back and forth at the President and Condi Rice. "I mean, like the President said, she can't hear, and she's blind as a bat. She won't be able to see anything useful on the maps–"
"The maps? Oh God..." With that, Condoleezza Rice rounded back into the meeting room and summoned Karl Rove, who then came barging through the door. "Karl! What is the meaning of this? This is you, isn't it?"
"Hey, hey–let's not get all twisted up in a wad about this," replied Rove, looking back at the President. "The ol' lady? She's good politics. We're gonna get a couple of photographers in here in a few minutes and that baby's gonna be all over the news by tonight, and we're gonna look like the compassionate and transparent geniuses that we are. Again, I might add. So what's the problem with it?"
"What's the problem?!?" Condi Rice spoke with a whispered urgency. "We're about to talk about war plans with Iraq is the problem! We can't have someone–anyone–who isn't strictly cleared and vetted by intelligence in these meetings! And even then... this is nuts!"
"But she's an old lady! Don't you see the beauty of it? She can't hear, and she won't remember anything anyway ten minutes after she leaves here!"
Condi Rice rubbed her face and sighed. "Mr. President, please tell me that this is a one-off? This is the only time we do this?"
"Well, Condi, let's just play it by ear. If it goes well, who knows? And if it doesn't, well then, you know, probably we would shelve it."
"Probably? Okay, Mr. President, you're the boss. I've said my piece."
"You don't like it. Duly registered."
And with that, the four of them shuffled back into the meeting room.
"–and so then I said to Mr. Donovan, why Bill, if you really need a woman of my particular abilities, if you know what I mean, to do it, I'll go–and the next thing I knew, I was on my way to Berlin! Can that man hear me?" Mrs. Miller was holding court, speaking to CIA Director George Tenet, but it clearly seemed beyond her scope of understanding that Vice President Cheney was virtually present on the big screen.
"Uh, yes, Mrs. Miller, I can hear you," said the scowling Cheney.
"Oh dear, that's too much! What'll they think of next? You know, before the war we had a party line for our telephone. You'd pick up the phone and Mrs. Humphries across the street would be talking away, and you'd have to say, 'Excuse me', and try again later." George Tenet was looking around the table to see if anyone had caught the Bill Donovan reference.
The President clapped his hands together before he sat down. "Okay, everybody. Now that that's cleared up, let's get this show on the road. Once again, Mrs. Miller here has given us her solemn word not to discuss anything she hears in here. Isn't that right, ma'am?"
"What did he say? Is he talking to me?" Colin Powell, sitting directly across from her, made the universal sign of zipping up the lips. "Oh, yes, yes! Absolutely! Not a peep! You can count on it. Why, when I worked for the Office of Strategic Services we had a motto–"
Condi Rice's antennae went up. "Did she say OSS?"
"I'm sure you did, Mrs. Miller," interrupted the President. "We're runnin' a little behind schedule right now, so we'll have to hear about that later, if that's alright with you. Now–"
"Oh, that's fine. No problem at all, dear. You go right ahead."
"Mr. President, this woman just said she worked for–"
"Okay, General Franks, why don't we–"
At that moment the door burst open and Press Secretary Ari Fleischer and assistant Dan Bartlett led a half-dozen photographers into the room. Flashes abounded throughout, causing Mrs. Miller to become flustered.
"Oh my, I've never seen so many photographers in my life! They're taking my picture? Oh, dear, my hair! Which one do I look at?
"Can we get one with Secretary Rumsfeld in it?" shouted a photographer.
"I'd like to see if we can get the Vice President's image in a shot with the old lady," said another.
"Oh dear," said Mrs. Miller.
"Thanks. Thank you, everybody, Mr. President." Ari Fleischer led the contingent of photographers out the door as fast as they came in.
"Well I'll be," chuckled Mrs. Miller. "They didn't even say 'cheese,' so I didn't know when to smile, you know." She slapped George Tenet hard on the thigh. "Wait'll I tell Agnes about this! Is this going to be in the newspaper? We used to keep these kind of meetings secret."
Shaking her head slowly, Condoleezza Rice rubbed between her eyebrows. Around the table, various principals were casting curious glances at one another.
"Alright, folks. Now that we have the preliminaries out of the way, let's get started. General Franks, tell us what you got."
An intelligent, vulgar man, General Tommy Franks was also a very good soldier. Tall and thin, with a military crew cut, the CENTCOM Commander was the person responsible for furnishing and implementing the Iraq War plans. He didn't suffer fools easily. As he stood up, a large screen automatically began to lower on the wall opposite to the screen Vice President Cheney was occupying. General Franks moved towards the screen, carrying his briefing book. "What we're going to see here is an update on Generated Start, the latest..." Here he paused and glanced at Mrs. Miller and around the table again as if getting final confirmation that this was really okay. A nod from the President convinced him to proceed. "The latest in our plans for the, um-hmm, Iraq invasion."
"What did he say? Could you please speak up, young man?" Mrs. Miller was indeed hard of hearing.
"THE IRAQ INVASION," shouted General Franks. "WE'RE INVADING IRAQ. WE'RE GOING TO SEE SOME SLIDES." The lights went off as the projector went on.
"Oh dear! Can we... I can't seem..."
"Yes, Mrs. Miller?" Tommy Franks was not amused.
"It's just that if we're going to see a movie, I've got to have my glasses. Can someone turn on the lights, please? I didn't know we were going to see a picture. I love movies. Can't see a darn thing without my glasses, you know." The lights went on. "Ahh, here they are! Just where I left them! You know, you can't find the very thing that would help you find what you're looking for! Isn't that something? Does that ever happen to you?" George Tenet squinted slightly. "Okay, what are we seeing again dear? A war picture? They made some great war pictures during the Second World War, you know. Why, John Wayne once–"
Again, Colin Powell gently put his forefinger to his lips and Mrs. Miller mercifully picked up the cue. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Just yakking away, look at me! Oh dear, the man on the screen doesn't look too happy." He wasn't. Dick Cheney was about to blow a gasket.
The slide show passed without further incident and met with general approval, except for Mrs. Miller, who mentioned to Director Tenet that her daughter's slides on their family's trip to Wisconsin were much more interesting than General Franks's. "I think the General could learn a thing or two from her, " sniffed Mrs. Miller. "I might just give him her number. And, by the way, your plan won't work."
There now began a spirited discussion about what they had just seen, starting with President Bush. "This looks like a good start. Solid, Tommy. Don, what do you think?"
Secretary Rumsfeld leaned forward in his chair and addressed the President. "Mr. President, I think we can do it in less time with fewer troops. How many troops do we need? What kind of troops? What's the ratio of armored to non-armored? We need to get even lighter. Lighter than what? How about we start with thirty guys and four Humvees. Now I realize that's lowballing a bit, but I'll take what I've got and what General Franks has, and how about we meet in the middle? This plan is farther along than the last thing I saw, but we can still do better. How much better? I don't know."
President Bush gestured across the table. "General Powell?"
"Well, Mr. President, I think we need to pay more attention to the back end of this whole venture. I think we're gonna roll up the Iraqi Army swiftly, but what are we going to do when we win? We're still extremely light on the post-invasion specifics. This needs more emphasis. Let me give you an example. I went to the Pottery Barn the other day, and they have a rule–"
"Colin, furniture is not the issue here," said Rumsfeld. "In any event, our information is showing that the Iraqi people are going to greet us with flowers. What kind of flowers I don't–"
"He's right, you know," said Mrs. Miller.
"What?" Donald Rumsfeld was shocked to be interrupted in this way by the elderly lady.
"Who's right, Mrs. Miller?" Condoleezza Rice had a suspicion that this old lady wasn't as befuddled as she appeared.
"The nice man across from me, Mr. Powers." The room let the mistake pass. "From everything I've seen, you don't have nearly enough soldiers to finish a war, let alone establish the peace."
"What is she talking about?!? Who said she could talk?"
"I did, Dick," said the President. "Let's hear her out. She might just learn us something." He tossed a wink at Condi Rice.
"If I may," interrupted Vice President Cheney. "Secretary Powell is right to raise the issue, but Mr. President, as you no doubt already know, we're not going over there to occupy Iraq per se, we're going there to liberate the Iraqi people and...<cough> ecure-say the uh... ontrol-kay of the uh, oil-ay ells-way away from the bad guys–"
"Oh please, Mr. Cheeny!"
"That's Cheney!"
"Whatever. I was the assistant to the head of Cipher and Codes Division of the OSS during World War II, you know, so you can put away your childish pig Latin. All I'm saying is that if you go into Iraq with the force that the General and Mr. Rumpsfield is proposing, you are in for a long, hard, slog. I spent a good part of 1943 and some of 1944 in Iraq working to keep the Germans out, and, well, let me just say that they didn't like the presence of any foreign troops on their soil. My goodness, they didn't even seem to like each other! There are two opposing Muslim groups over there, Sunnis and Shias, and it's always taken a strongman to keep them from killing one another. If you cut off the head, you better watch the weeds–"
"Did anybody know this woman was CIA? Just an average American citizen?!? Thank you for the history lesson, Mrs. Miller. Now can we please–" Dick Cheney had a very short fuse.
"Are you always this rude, sonny? Is he always this rude?" asked Mrs. Miller, elbowing George Tenet squarely in the ribs.
"What the hell is she talking about?" Smoke was beginning to leak out of the Vice President's ears.
George W. Bush was looking at Karl Rove and at the bemused face of Condoleezza Rice, and wondering whether this was such a good idea after all. Colin Powell, his hands folded in front of him, seemed to be quietly enjoying this.
"I'm not telling you what to do, young man," said Mrs. Miller, looking at the President. "But if I was you, I would be listening more to Mr. Powers than to the rest of them, especially that one on the screen–"
"Okay that's it!!!" Dick Cheney had heard enough. "Mr. President, I need to see you alone for a minute."
"But Dick, how are we gonna do that? You're in Wash–"
"Clear the room, Mr. President! We need to have an ultra-super division-one top-secret-clearance-only meeting, and I believe that's just you and me."
"Well, I–"
"With your permission, please, Mr. President!"
"Alright everyone, you heard the Vice President. Go out and stretch your legs for a few. Condi, will you please escort Mrs. Miller outside?"
Mrs. Miller struggled to get upright. "Oh, that's alright, dear, I can still get around on my own. What a nice name, Candy! Is that a nickname? Can you hand me my cane?"
Everyone left the room except the President, who walked towards Dick Cheney's giant, beet-red face.
"So, Dick! What's the emergency? Nice lady, huh? I didn't even know there was such a thing as super-duper whatever clearance."
"George, you listen to me! What in the hell could you possibly be thinking bringing in that batty old fool into a top-secret meeting? And she's a former Intelligence officer?"
"Well, we certainly didn't know anything about that. See, Karl thought—"
"I don't give a damn what Karl thought!!"
"Ya gotta admit, though, it was pretty funny that she new more about Iraq than Don did–"
"That's not funny! That...woman was in the precursor to the CIA! She's not an average American citizen! If this were to leak, or if she spills any of this to her...bridge club, or God help us, to her local paper... Look–you are very fortunate that I'm such a patient man, but you pull any more stunts like this and you're going to be back in Texas in 2005 digging for oil again do you understand?
"Yes, sir! But–"
"Don't 'but' me, George! Just get rid of the crazy lady STAT and let's get on with this thing! I've got a dinner to go to!"
"Yes sir." There was an edge to the last "sir" that sounded a bit like a defiant teenager poking at his parent. George W. Bush went outside and summoned the rest of the powwow back in the room. As everyone was settling into their seats, the President leaned over to Mrs. Miller. "Uhh, Mrs. Miller, I want to thank you for coming to our meeting and doing the people's work today. You are a great American and we thank you for your service to your country. My assistant will see you out."
"Out? Oh, is it over? I didn't really do anything, you know. You are all such nice people, really. Well, most of you," she said, glaring at Cheney, who scowled back at her. "God bless you all! And Mr. Powers, keep your chin up. You're a fine young man!" And with that, she took Dan Bartlett's arm and left the room.
The President took a deep breath and surveyed the room. "Well... that went well, don't you think?"
George W. Bush: the eternal optimist.
***
In January of 2002, the President's State of the Union Address included the now-famous reference to the Axis of Evil, which included the nations of Iran, North Korea, and Iraq. Immediately following the speech, angry calls were received by the American ambassadors to Libya, Sudan, and Syria wondering why their nations did not make the list. "An outrage!" cried one Libyan diplomat. "The whole thing is a sham," said Sudanese Foreign Minister Allah Havasum alou-Gobi. "What do we have to do?" lamented the Syrian ambassador to Washington, Hassan Nosehair. An angry mob descended upon the US embassy in Algiers, crying, "Ahk-sees!! Ahk-sees!!" American diplomats were at a loss as to how to reply, only promising that the United States would deal with each rogue state on a first-come, first-bomb basis.
Right-wing journalists were positively orgasmic over the President's speech. "I came three times during the Address—one for each Axis," cooed Michele Malkin. Washington Post columnist Charles Krauthammer was equally moved. "I positively soiled myself. War, glorious war!" Bill O'Reilly chimed in, "Where did George W. Bush get the extra ball? Probably from his mother's side of the family."
It was also at the beginning of 2002 that the United States first started transporting al-Qaeda and Taliban detainees to Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. Rush Limbaugh made the comment that interrogation methods there amounted to little more than "frat hazing". When the President saw this line repeated in a column in the Washington Post, he remarked to his Chief of Staff, Andy Card, "Boy, I was on both sides of some serious frat hazing up at Yale. I hope we're not treating the detainees that bad."
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