I grunted at that. We went down to the Situation Room, where the general did his thing, and I just sat there and contemplated my navel. It’s one thing to whistle up the G-IV and tell them to fly somewhere, but how do you get to a ship in the middle of the ocean? It was going to take some doing, but the Abraham Lincoln carrier group was in the process of rushing to the area, to relieve the Tarawa group and show the flag. If we got Marilyn to Naval Air Station Oceana, just outside of Virginia Beach, she could catch a COD flight to the Lincoln. From the Lincoln they could fly her on a helicopter to the Tarawa. She could be there in 24 hours.
The captain we left hanging around the lobby while General Jones and I headed back to the dragon’s lair. Marilyn simply nodded and said, “When do I leave?”
I needed to get in control of this clusterfuck at some point. “Marilyn, we can probably do this today, but you need to do something for me.”
“What?”
“I am going to get a lot of heat over this, about using the power of my position to send my wife halfway around the world on the taxpayers’ dime. How come she can do it when all the other mothers can’t? — that sort of thing. Now, I will pay the bill, and take the heat, but if we are doing this, you need to do some schmoozing while you are out there. You get on a ship, you do the tour and shake hands and wave and smile and take pictures, okay.”
“Oh, I can do that, I suppose,” she said, quite amicably. Suddenly I thought I might come out of this with my marriage still intact. (If the President and the First Lady get divorced, who gets to keep the White House? Maybe I should ask Bill and Hillary.)
I grabbed a phone. “Please send Ari and that doctor up to the Residence. Thank you.”
“What about us? Do we get to go?” asked Molly.
“No, and neither does Stormy. That would be all the Navy needs, the three of you loose on a warship! We’d probably end up at war with somebody!”
“Daddy!” protested her sister.
“No!”
When Ari showed up with the doctor from Bethesda, we gave him the rundown on what was happening. I simply figured he would want to issue a press release and say something at the press conference. No, that was not at all what Ari had in mind. “Mister President, let’s be honest here. Your son is a wounded in action certified hero as seen on national television! The First Lady is going to fly around the world on Navy planes to see him, when no other mother can do that. This is news! We need to handle this properly.” He turned to General Jones. “General, can we send a reporter or two on this junket?” He looked at me and held up a hand. “That’s what the media is going to call this, true or not.”
“Yes, probably several people. We’re going to send a Marine escort with the First Lady to show her around,” he replied. That was news to me, but I suppose it made sense.
Ari nodded. “Send both a man and a woman, and I’ll line up a couple of reporters. Nothing big, though.”
“Who are you planning on sending, Ari?” I asked.
“Depends on who I like and dislike when I get downstairs. General, this is going to break tomorrow morning. Have your press people call us here to coordinate our response. Doctor, you will need to brief me on Charlie’s wounds. Mrs. Buckman, give him our best!” He stood up and said, “I need to work on this, Mister President.”
“Go, Ari. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
My day was totally shot by now, and Marilyn cancelled her lunch. I stayed with Marilyn and the girls as they all stewed and tried to figure out packing. After about an hour, I was rescued by the Marines, in the form of a pair of Marine Gunnery Sergeants, one of whom was a woman! That was probably the most surprising thing of all to me, and only went to show I was a hopeless dinosaur.
Ari called me down to his office before this was all done. In with him was Jennifer Loven, a reporter for the Associated Press, and Greg Kelly, from Fox News. Everybody stood up when I came in the office, and once inside, Ari moved around and closed the door. “Mister President, I found a couple of volunteers for you.”
Jennifer looked at Ari and said, “Is that what we are? Volunteers? What have I been volunteered for?”
“I used to be a Marine, Ari. I can remember being volunteered before. What’s going on?” added Greg.
Ari Fleischer deferred to me. “Mister President?”
“Mister Kelly, do you have a cameraman who can handle remote broadcasting by himself,” I asked.
Ari nodded and Greg said, “Yes. Why?”
“I am asking the both of you to buy a pig in a poke. I will explain what is happening but only if you both agree, right now, not to tell anybody, not even your bosses, the details, at least not until tomorrow. This will be a very exclusive story, but it needs to remain secret for one more day. If you say no, we will swap you out before we tell you. There will be travel involved.”
Greg said, “What the hell!? Excuse me, Mister President, sorry about that.” He looked over at Jennifer.
She just nodded and shrugged. “Okay, I’ll bite. I’m in. What’s up?”
I looked back at Greg. He threw his hands up and said, “Sure, why not?”
I nodded to myself and glanced at Ari, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded as well. “Okay, here’s the short version. My son got all shot up in Monrovia the other day. The First Lady is going to be flying out to see him. We don’t want to announce this until tomorrow, but she is leaving this evening. You two, plus your cameraman, Greg, will be traveling with her. This is going to be an exclusive for you. This won’t be your average trip, either. We are arranging to send her out to the ships, and you’ll report from the middle of the ocean.”
“Oh my G… Yes sir, I’m in!” he said.
“How is your son, Mister President?” asked Jennifer.
“He’s pretty banged up, but he’ll make it. Did either of you see the video footage of the Marine who was running through enemy fire to rescue people?” They both nodded at that. “That was him.”
“I thought that kid died!” she said.
“No, but he did get wounded. I pretty much thought the same thing. Now, are you two both going to keep quiet and go along with this? I am betting you’ll get some nice reporting out of it. You’ll probably be gone a week or more,” I asked.
“Can we tell our bosses?” he asked.
I glanced at Ari, who said, “Tell them you will be away on an assignment, and that they cannot release that information, and that I will confirm it if they call me. Then at the press conference tomorrow, when this comes out, it will be explained that two reporters are traveling with Mrs. Buckman.”
They both agreed to that, and I said, “Okay, then. Let’s get this show on the road. Both of you follow me.” We headed up to the Residence, and found the most astonishing sight. Marilyn was standing there in a Marine Corps BDU and combat boots, with one of those hats they call a cover perched on her curls, and wearing web gear and a backpack. She was grinning wildly as I came in. “Holy Christ!” I exclaimed. “They’re drafting midgets!”
“Who says paratroopers are so tough!?” she replied. She shifted around with her backpack.
“Well, now I can die happy, because I have surely seen everything,” I said.
Jennifer Loven began fumbling through her purse and came out with a small digital camera. “I have to get a shot of this!”