"No, that doesn't sound right."
"OMG, that is too funny."
"Come on, you two, this is serious."
"Well it has to be short."
"Support the Troops, Impeach Cheney"
"Support Troops, Impeach Cheney"
"Support Troops, Impeach Dick"
And so the conversation went the night before the Vice President came to Fort Hood, Texas.
The largest military installation in the world.
Arguably, the safest place for the VP to be, right?
Wrong.
NO ONE was told he was coming. It was scheduled for a Tuesday morning to minimize the likelihood of an organized protest if word got out he was coming. The 1st Cav Parade Field was surrounded by conexes stacked two high on all three sides so that no one would have "line of sight" on our beloved second in command.
So unpopular is the man who helped mastermind the war that is responsible for two deaths a week of Fort Hood soldiers that they had to pull soldiers from OTHER divisions to attend the Vice President's "Welcoming Home" of 1st Cav soldiers.
To further protect the Vice President from both physical and psychological attack, these soldiers were disarmed of weapons, cell phones, cameras, writing implements, peices of paper, food and gum, any and all sharp or bright objects, lint, etc.
All four roads surrounding the parade feild were closed to pedestrian traffic and when Cheney landed at the nearby airport, both main roads in front of and behind the parade field were shut down (Batallion and Tank Destroyer).
The evening prior, JC was approached by his Commander. "You need to get 7 of your men to volunteer to attend the Vice President's event."
"Seven?" Pause. "Seriously?"
His Commander didn't even crack a smile.
"Okay, what about two? I think there are two guys in my platoon who like him."
"Seven."
JC sighed and walked away, pondering which would go over better: drawing straws or pulling names out of a hat?
Being a platoon leader sucked.
On the other hand, he's not going to be one of the seven, so it had it's perks.
* * *
We are rank amatuers.
Truly.
Once we committed to our plan and started driving our "route", we got caught up in a legal discussion about what we could or could not say over a cell phone and why.
"It's the Patriot Act that allows for warrantless wiretapping."
"But that is if they want to listen to YOUR calls, right?"
"You know they have buzz words and they capture those words and they track those calls."
"Isn't that's FISA?"
"Wasn't that part of the Patriot Act?"
"Didn't the Patriot Act expire?"
"I could have sworn X told me it expired..."
So while C drives, I send out a text message at 10 pm:
"did the patriot act expire yet?"
Nothing more, nothing less.
Nothing suspicious about that.
It's really more than a little embarrassing in hindsight.
* * *
We drove to three different Wal-Marts where we each bought five cans of black spray paint (after a brief and heated initial argument over the virtues of the 97 cent spray paint versus the 3 dollar spray paint). Then we proceeded to split up in order to make our purchases, alone, as if we hadn't just walked in together five minutes earlier...
"What's the worst that could happen?" J asks on our way into the first Wal-Mart in Copperas Cove as the wind picks up and the sun starts to set.
"Well," I think for a minute and look at J, "For you, we could say it's the PTSD because you JUST got back from your second tour." (Literally, he just came home with 1st Cav a few weeks ago.)
Then I look at C and start laughing, "Now you, on the other hand, you're screwed."
She's a military spouse like me.
* * *
Somewhere between Wal-Mart number two and Wal-Mart number three we stopped at Target for the coffee I needed for my Tossimo machine. (Well, we WERE going to be up all night.) Target didn't didn't have spray paint but it did have...
...a sale on really soft 300 thread count cotton/bamboo sheets.
I know. It's kind of sad. Losing focus like that. I said we were amateurs. Plus, we're military spouses with deployed husbands and one of us has little ones so we don't get to out of the house without the kids often enough--clearly.
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