In one of my assignments as a young infantry officer, I was sent to the 48th Infantry near Frankfurt , Germany. In those days our prize weapon was a huge 280-mm atomic cannon. Guarded by infantry platoons, these guns were hauled around the forests on trucks to keep the Soviets from guessing their location. One day Captain Tom Miller assigned my platoon to guard a 280. I alerted my men, loaded my .45 caliber pistol and jumped into my jeep. I had not gone far when I realized that my .45 was gone. I was petrified. In the army, losing a weapon is serious business. I had no choice but to radio Captain Miller to tell him.
" You what?" he said in disbelief. He paused a few seconds, then added, " All right, continue the mission."
When I returned, uneasily contemplated my fate, Miller called me over.
" I've got something for you" he said, handing me the pistol. " Some kids in the village found it where it fell out of your holster."
" Kids found it?" I felt a cold chill.
"Yeah," he said. "Luckily they only got off one round before we heard the shot and took the gun away." The disastrous possibilities left me limp.
" For God's sake, son, don't let that happen again."
When you're prepared, you're more confident.
When you have a strategy, you're more comfortable.
- Fred Couples
A Canadian citizen comments on his son's graduation at USAFA. Retransmitted from the Calgary Canada Herald without comment.
David Bly, Calgary Herald, COLORADO SPRINGS - The day Bill Clinton came to the United States Air Force Academy at Colorado Springs, I stood, cameras in hand, near a wall upon which was engraved the academy's code of honor: "We will not lie, steal or cheat, nor tolerate among us anyone who does." If only the U.S. president would wander past that wall, I thought. A photo like that could ensure me a comfortable retirement. Clinton and I were at the academy this month for the graduation of the Class of 1999, he as commander-in-chief of the U.S. armed forces, and I as the father of one of the 944 graduates. As my wife, Janet, is a U.S. citizen, my children have their choice of citizenship. Our son Brandon, wanting a career in aviation, applied to the air force academy because there is no comparable opportunity anywhere in the world. He graduated with a degree in aeronautical engineering, was commissioned as an air force officer and will begin training as a jet pilot next spring. Graduation from any university is an achievement worth celebrating. At the USAFA, it's the culmination of four grueling years of study, training and discipline. Some don't make it for physical, academic or emotional reasons. A few decide, after two years, they would rather choose another path. Some are expelled for violating the honor code. The USAFA rates high academically, but its aim is more than academics - it strives to develop moral and ethical leadership. As cadets pursue their degrees of choice, they are being trained to become air force officers. Integrity and a high standard of conduct are expected. We were not excited about the presidential visit. For us, it was an annoyance. Brandon's commissioning ceremony had to be moved to 5:45 p.m., because Clinton wanted to use the building where the commissioning was scheduled. Later, we had to be in our stadium seats two hours before the graduation, because of security. For others, it was an insult. I heard of retired air force officers who boycotted the graduation, because they felt Clinton's participation, given Monica Lewinsky and other scandals, detracted from the dignity of the event. The air force academy is a military base, but it is also a popular tourist spot. Each day at noon, busloads of tourists arrive to watch 4,000 cadets line up and march to lunch in an elaborate parade that leaves the cadets only 15 minutes to eat. On the day Clinton came to town, some areas were closed as security was beefed up. Access was limited to those invited to the graduation. It would not have been a safe day to go skulking through the academy's forests with bird-watching binoculars. As the stadium filled, helicopters pounded the air overhead. Entrance was through metal detectors. Handbags were searched. Snipers in battle dress patrolled the top tiers of the stadium. Sprinkled throughout the crowd were secret-service agents, easy to spot because they wore dark suits, sunglasses and earpieces. They spoke into their sleeves a lot and scanned the crowds constantly. There was nothing secret about them. Clinton's imminent entrance was announced. We stood. And we stood. Eight minutes later, the president of the United States of America walked on to the football field and toward the podium. No explanation was given for why he kept 30,000 people waiting on their feet in the sun. As he walked under the crossed sabres of the honor guard, the applause was restrained and polite, but not enthusiastic. Around me, I heard comments about respecting the office, if not the man. No one jeered, but no one cheered. As I watched the newly minted second lieutenants stand to salute their commander in chief, I wondered how many of them were thinking what I was thinking: