Chapter 3

I was wrong. You get the inexperienced on the weekends, management figuring if they screwed up it would be less noticeable and more easily fixed. The guy at the station was so shocked he just let it stream, so the whole thing hit the airwaves, live. What was supposed to be a three minute segment turned into a twelve minute manifesto.

Jen and I knew nothing of this, and Jen insisted she get a hug from every one of the protestors. Many were crying when they did it, thanking us for our effort. I filmed the whole thing, thinking she might want it for a keepsake. I got my share of hugs and handshakes, as well as heartfelt thanks. I just wished what I had done would help.

As soon as we packed up Jen dragged me into a shop and bought me a new tee shirt. She was really quiet when she looked at my scars. Always the reporter, she asked questions on the trip back to the station.

“So, you’re a vet? How come no one knew?”

“I don’t like to talk about it much. Too many painful memories. You can read all you want about war, but until you’re in that situation, people trying to kill you, friends dying in front of you or in your arms, getting shot yourself, you have no clue. I got tired of trying to explain it, and just stopped talking about it.”

“But you were a cameraman! Are you saying you carried a camera instead of a gun into combat situations?”

I shrugged. “It was my job. And I wasn’t exactly naked, I had my sidearm, and if it got really hairy there was always a rifle around I could pick up. Can we stop talking about it now?”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes, nodded, and held my hand the rest of the way back to the station. I let her. We walked into the station to clapping and cheers. I wondered what was up until the weekend manager shook my hand. “Guess you guys told them, huh?”

It hit me then they had watched the whole thing. “Thanks. Too bad it will never see the light of day.”

“But it did! Jason was so mesmerized he let it stream, and I didn’t try to stop him! Of course, we’ll probably be unemployed Monday, but to me, it was worth it.” He loosened his tie, unbottoned his shirt and pulled a sleeve down, and showed his tattoo. Rangers. I always felt like he was military, the way he walked, the way he reacted to situations, were trained responses you could only get one way. “Three tours,” he said, buttoning his shirt.

I didn’t need to show him mine. He’d already seen the scars. A thought hit me. “Try to keep Jen out of it. She had no idea about what was going to happen.”

He assured me he would try, but could make no promises

None of us could anticipate what happened. CBS, our affliate, got wind of the segment and featured it on their show Sunday Morning the next week. By Monday every network and most cable news stations were airing it, and all had links to websites where they could view the whole thing, down to Jen’s hugs. Youtube played it, and it got five million views in three months.