Peril

by Bob Woodward

“What did you do?” Trump yelled. “Why did you do that?” “Mr. President, I told you,” Esper said. “What I said before is I do not believe that this situation calls for invocation of the Insurrection Act. I think it would be terrible for the country and terrible for the military.” “You took away my authority!” Trump screamed. “Mr. President, I did not take away your authority. That is your authority. I offered my views on it and whether or not I would support it.” Trump retorted fiercely, quoting some garbled version of Esper’s comments to the media earlier in the day. Esper pulled a transcript of his press conference from his binder. He had highlighted his comments on the Act and slapped it on the Resolute Desk. He pushed it toward the president. “That’s what I said!” Trump glanced at it. “I don’t care a fuck about your fucking transcript.” Esper wasn’t sure Trump read the comments but felt he had at least called the president on it. Trump’s face steadily grew redder and Esper believed the president thought his ability to invoke the Insurrection Act was over. Esper was fine with that. Trump had been contained. “Who do you think you are?” Trump screamed at Esper. “You took away my authorities. You’re not the president! I’m the god damn president.” Milley, sitting silently next to Esper, watched Trump carefully. He believed the escalation and rage he was witnessing firsthand was disturbing, another face-off that reminded him of Full Metal Jacket. An avalanche of invective kep...