Originally the plan had been to fly home from Turkey, but we had added one last stop. From Incirlik we flew to Ramstein Air Base in Germany. I had two purposes to this side trip. First was to visit Landstuhl Hospital, which was just a few miles away, and was where all the serious wound cases from Kurdistan ended up being flown to. They were even treating Kurdish Peshmerga and civilian casualties. That was really heart-wrenching. You had these great kids, many of whom, especially from the Azwya Valley battle, had lost arms and legs, and they wanted to get fixed up so they could go back to their buddies. I understood it, but it was still very tough to see.
Secondly, Condi and Tom Ridge had managed to call a NATO summit meeting at Ramstein. This was going to be a fairly quick meeting, just a long day or so, and I was going to thank the NATO members who had been part of the Kurdish Coalition. The biggest help had come from the British, who had sent the 7th Armored and a squadron of Tornado fighter-bombers, and Germany and Norway, who had sent chemical decontamination teams, medical units, and transport battalions. Foremost, of course, was Turkey, without which we couldn't have done anything. I met with the various NATO representatives, and Tony Blair flew in from London, so I made sure I met with him and Angela Merkel, the German Chancellor. The countries that didn't provide assistance, or weren't supportive? They didn't get too many smiles and handshakes, and they might find the next NATO summit meeting a little chillier.
From there, we went home. It had been a long day, and we climbed back onto Air Force One, and I planned to sleep a chunk of it. It was about a nine hour flight, although with the time change, we would arrive back in D.C. about three hours after we took off. Very weird. We would sleep most of the night on the plane, and then land in the middle of the night, and I would be up all night after that.
Marilyn and I loaded last, and we simply settled into some of the seats in the front. Think first class, only nicer. Anyway, once we got on board, we were seated, and a few minutes later the engines spooled up and we began to roll. There is no waiting around when you are the President. We went to the head of the line.
Marilyn told me, while we were taxiing, "You need to call your daughter when we get airborne."
"Which one?"
"Molly."
I shrugged. My baby was 22, and had one more year to go to graduate with her Masters. She and Bucky were still going out, and she was spending her summer working at an internship at Harley-Davidson that Tusker had arranged. He was a major dealer for them and had some pull at their Milwaukee headquarters. Holly would be moving out completely in the fall, when she went to Princeton for her doctoral program. She hadn't settled down on any one guy, but by all accounts she was as heterosexual as her siblings. She had told me she didn't have time right now to settle down. Neither did Charlie, for that matter, who seemed to prefer slinky blonde models that he met at various races. He called them 'bike bunnies.'
Once we were at altitude, I picked up the handset in the console next to me and asked to be connected to Molly. I hung up, knowing the massive telecommunications capabilities of the United States Air Force, the National Security Agency, and the White House Communications Center would be able to track down a college kid who was under surveillance and wasn't actually trying to hide from anybody. A few minutes later, the phone rang again, and I picked it up. Marilyn had an amused look on her face, so I suspected I was being set up. I wondered what my daughter wanted now. "Hello?"
"Daddy!? I am so glad you called! Mom said I had to talk to you. Actually, Bucky has to talk to you. Hold on!"
"Bucky?" I was talking to dead air. I looked over at my wife. "Do you know what is going on?"
She laughed and didn't answer. After about sixty seconds I heard some scrambling on the phone, and then Bucky Tusk came on the line. "Uh ... Mister President ... I mean, Uncle Carl..."
I had a funny feeling about what was coming next. "I'm here, Bucky. What's up?"
"Uh, well, Molly and I, we ... Uh, I am asking for your daughter's hand in marriage ... uh, sir."
I rolled my eyes and looked at Marilyn. I cupped the mouthpiece in my hand, and said, "You knew about this, right?"
She laughed. "Molly called me this afternoon, while you were busy. Quick, say yes before they get scared."
I snorted and took my hand down. "Okay, Bucky, it's not like we've never met you. You will be a welcome addition to the Buckman family." I could hear Molly squealing in the background, so she must have been hanging over his shoulder. "Now, let me talk to my daughter."
"Oh, Daddy, thank you, thank you, this is great!" She babbled on for a minute or so.
"Hold it, young lady. Let me ask you a question. When does the wedding have to be?"
"What do you mean?"
I grimaced and shook my head. "Is this a quickie wedding, as in we need to marry you off right away?"
"Huh?"
"Before nine months pass?"
"DADDY! NO!"
"Hey, I have to ask." Marilyn smiled and punched my shoulder. "Okay. Listen, we are going to need to make an announcement pretty quick. If you told your mother, she's probably told a dozen people already..." I got punched again for that one! " ... so you'd better figure on an official announcement sometime tomorrow or the next day."
"Uh, yeah, okay."
"Here's your mother." I handed the phone to Marilyn.
She took the phone and told me, "You are a rat!" Then she spoke into the handset. "Molly? I just told your father he's a rat!"
They started running me down, and I simply waved over one of the stewards, who was grinning. He must have either heard, or equally likely, Marilyn had said something. "I think we are going to need a bottle of champagne, please."
"Yes, sir. Congratulations!"
"Yeah? Do you know how much weddings cost? It'd be cheaper if they just eloped!"
He laughed and went towards the galley. The rest of the crew around us was smiling, too. Marilyn must have said something! When he returned, Marilyn was hanging up the phone. She told me, "You really are a rat, and a cheap rat, too!"
"I love you, too, honey."
The steward popped the cork and poured us some champagne, and we toasted an engagement. Then I asked the steward, "Do me a favor. Don't say anything, but go back and find Fletcher Donaldson and drag his lazy carcass up here, please. Thank you."
"Yes, sir." He set the bottle in a cooler, and headed to the back of the plane.
A couple of minutes later Fletcher Donaldson came forward. He glanced around and saw it was simply Marilyn and me and a steward and an agent. "Celebrating, Carl? What's up?"
Fletcher was probably the reporter who had been following me the longest, since the days I had been running for Congress while still running the Buckman Group. He had been calling me by my first name since those days, including through my days in Congress. Now, while he was deferential when others were around, when it was just us, he used my name and I didn't correct him.
The same was true for a few other top people and close friends. Certainly my family and personal friends didn't call me 'Mister President', and my Vice President called me Carl, as did most of the Cabinet, and certainly the Core Four - State, Treasury, Defense, and Justice. Fletcher was one of only a handful of reporters who did so, and that group included Tim Russert and George Will, who I had known almost as long.
As a President I had to balance between an 'Imperial Presidency' and something a lot less formal. Both Nixon and Reagan were probably the most imperial Presidents, with a general disdain for Congress, a love of the perquisites of office, and an out of control 'court' of subordinates who frequently broke the law. At the other end you had Jimmy Carter, who would be seen carrying his own luggage and wearing sweaters while turning the heat down in the White House. He didn't look non-imperial, he looked cheap! For what it was worth it seemed like I had managed to strike some sort of balance. No, I didn't carry my own bags, but I did work with Congress, and while I certainly relied on my staff to get things done, I was more than happy to hold them accountable for their actions.