Michael Smith was the meat in the sandwich when he was flanked on one side by David O'Callaghan, secretary-general of the Department of Defence, and on the other by Lieut Gen David Stapleton, the Army Chief-of-Staff, during publication of the White Paper on Defence.
Simmering unrest between the civil and military elements of the Department of Defence over defence cuts, future direction and control was palpable in the guarded, courteous contributions of the two men. But the military lip of Lieut Gen Stapleton was so stiff that he took refuge in his constitutional responsibilities when asked for his views on the White Paper. It was a decision of Government, he said. And the Defence Forces always supported the Government. End of story.
The Minister for Defence ducked and weaved as he put the best possible gloss on a bad situation. The extent to which he was prepared to "spin" became evident when he spoke of a new management strategy for recruitment and promotion. In that regard, he stated: "An immediate step will be the planned recruitment of 750 personnel".
It only took a moment to establish that this apparent increase in Army numbers was just a chimera. The formal decision to reduce the size of the Defence Forces from 11,500 to 10,500 within two years still stood. And while the current complement was 10,900, the promised 750 recruits would still see that figure fall through natural wastage.
The only declared concessions lay in the Government's acceptance that the Chief-of-Staff could keep an extra 250 recruits in training if he so wished. And he would keep all the money raised through the sale of Army property.
Charlie McCreevy's fingerprints were all over the White Paper. The Department of Finance had demanded, and received, a serious amount of military flesh. It had managed to "junk" government policy of 1996, which originally decided to cut the Defence Forces from 13,000 to 11,500.
The new target set by Mr McCreevy was a force of 8,500, with a single brigade structure and the possible amalgamation of the Air Corps and Naval Service into a coastguard service.
He was insisting that the cost of Army deafness claims, now amounting to 11 per cent of all spending, should be met from the Defence budget, rather than be paid by the Exchequer. And he wanted to sequester half of the money raised by the sale of Army barracks.
In the event, the Cabinet gave Mr Smith and the Defence Forces some comfort by deciding they could hold on to all the money raised through the disposal of property. But some of the other concerns of the Army are still hanging fire.
In that regard, details of a last-minute agreement with the Minister on the future functions and powers of the chief-of-staff were not contained in the White Paper. And the Army top brass needed reassurance. Mr Smith tried to jolly them along by saying there was no question of changing existing practices, in spite of obvious attempts by the Civil Service to expand its control. And he said outstanding points would be addressed when the White Paper was completed.
Such a shambles was an open invitation to the Opposition parties to give the Minister a puck. And they lined up in the Dail last night to cry "Bumbling sabotage". They had an easy target, with the Fianna Fail Minister in full retreat while the Progressive Democrats lectured him from the sidelines. The chairman of the Progressive Democrats and an ex-Army man, John Minihan, had publicly signalled his party's opposition to Mr Smith's plans last week. And within the Government, the former minister for defence, Bobby Molloy, did likewise.
Jack Wall of the Labour Party was appalled at the damage done to Army morale by the Minister, who had failed to redefine and refocus its role. The result was the most serious breach of trust between high-ranking military officers and the Department of Defence in living memory, he said.
Frances Fitzgerald took up the refrain. The Chief-of-Staff had been forced to threaten to resign and return precipitately from abroad in order to defend his Army against the onslaught of an incompetent Minister. The Defence Forces were seriously underfunded, and their role in international peacekeeping had been placed in jeopardy. Using funds created by reducing numbers to buy equipment was a flawed approach, she said.
Meanwhile, the battle for extra money isn't over. Mr Smith may have miscalculated when he gave the Chief-of-Staff permission to draw up a plan for using existing funding and other resources. Closing half a dozen outdated Army barracks could make perfect sense to the military in a tight fiscal situation. But it would cause no end of political trouble at constituency level.
Rather than endure that, Mr McCreevy might be persuaded to relax the purse strings.