Chapter 15

It was right after we returned to Israel that I heard from the White House. One of hundreds of underlings that worked for Hawk, came to our encampment and introduced himself. “Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison. My name is Brooks Watson and I work for the President.”

He paused to make sure that I was properly impressed. To make him feel important, I rose, gave him my chair, and hopped up on a crate of freeze-dried food to hear him out. If he knew I had appointed Hawk to the Vice Presidency, before I conveniently died so he could ascend to the throne, he might not have tried to act so superior. Rather than rush him, I waited for Mr. Watson to continue. He hesitated another beat and finally got to the point of his visit.

“The President wishes to extend his good wishes and thank you for all you’ve done in the wake of the tidal wave.” He stood about five three, and weighed no more than one-hundred and thirty pounds. Mr. Watson was a bit undersized for a grown man, but he took the heat of the day like a man, and I respected him for it. We were hot and tired. Our little group still had to finish unloading the cargo plane, and then fly all the way back to the states to pick up more vital supplies, so I was hoping he’d find it in him to get to his real reason for looking us up.

After another, slightly less comfortable silence, Brooks Watson hit me right between the eyes. “Sir, the President has asked me to personally implore you to visit him in the White House at the earliest possible date. He has assured me that I am to fit you into the President’s schedule, no matter what day you find it convenient to visit him. The Vice President would be making this request on behalf of the President, but he is already in Athens helping coordinate supplies.”

In a word, I was dumb.

Struck dumb was exactly how I felt when Mr. Watson invited me to the White House.

Contrary to what some people have said over my lifetimes, dumb is not a talent of mine. It is rare that I simply do not know what to say, but there I sat, on a crate, in what was left of western Lebanon, staring stupidly at the fellow that just asked me to drop into the White House like you would ask a neighbor if wanted a cold glass of water on a hot day.

“Of course,” I said, respectfully. “I’d be honored to accept such an invitation. We are tied up here for at least another full day, but after that we will be flying home. I can arrange transportation from Atlanta to Washington, and be there on Friday, IF you are certain the President meant for me to come at my earliest convenience.” Brooks seemed unusually pleased that I accepted and offered a firm date.

He was less pleased when I said, “However, if Friday is not convenient for the President, give me another day, and I will arrange to come then.”

Brooks Watson gave me what had to be the first smile he had cracked in years. It looked like he was in pain as his face contorted into a happier expression. He definitely took himself, and his job, way too seriously. The next five years were going to be long and painful for him if he kept that up.

Before he could get away, I had to add, “Mr. Watson. You DO know I am only eighteen years old, just graduated from high school and have no plans for college. I own a farm and don’t have any of the qualifications to be invited to meet the President, right?” I might as well get all the facts on the table, right now. If they realized how much of a nobody I am, now, they might have changed their minds before they have to rescind the invite back in the states.

It must have been my lucky day, because Brooks Watson smiled again. “Young man, I assure you that the President already knows more about you than you know about yourself. Don’t worry about not measuring up to some mythical standard to which we hold potential invitees.

“The President says he wants to meet you and ask you a question. That’s all I needed to know. I came here specifically to request you to meet with him, and after seeing some of what you are doing out here in the desert, I understand better why he does.” He rose from my chair, offered me his hand, and excused himself.

One of the guards we’d hired smiled at me, and said, “Well. Aren’t you just the first name on the top of teacher’s pet list, today,” and then he burst out laughing.

“Mr. Brooks Watson was just a bit taken with himself. Washington is going to chew him into tooth picks if he keeps that up.” Then I shut up before someone thought to ask why an eighteen year old would know that. After our unexpected guest was gone, we all got back to work and almost got ahead of schedule.

We would have if the Secretary of Defense hadn’t shown up, along with his entourage, to introduce himself and ask for me.

“Mr. Morrison, I am Defense Secretary Gordon Olson,” That took me by surprise. Of course there had been replacements and a shuffling of the cabinet, but I hadn’t heard about the Defense Department getting a new boss. “I hope you are not frustrated to have your work interrupted, but I wanted to look you up while we were in Israel, but you had decamped to Lebanon, and it took some time to carve out enough time to head up here and see if we might find a few minutes to talk. I’d appreciate us going somewhere less conspicuous if you don’t mind, though.”

The Secretary pointed over toward his convoy. There was a beautiful motor coach in the direction of his pointed finger and we walked that way. The coach was surrounded by heavily armed troops, who delicately stepped aside so that we could pass. None of the soldiers looked me over. I wasn’t patted down. There were no security stops. I simply followed the Secretary into his private coach for a chat.

And chat we did...

The interior of the coach was arrayed for comfort, not bling, or style. Everything was arranged to make it a place where people worked hard, and needed their rest. Gordon Olson pointed towards a long, plush sofa and he took the love seat across from it. A soldier brought us cold iced tea, a variety of chips and crackers, and some cheese. The Secretary munched like he had all day, but what he did do was give me time to think about What Is Really Going On.