The (New) American Way

by Mark R. Adams

  We found the tunnel. Everything went off without a hitch. This was the military at its finest. We had the money, located the drugs, and found the tunnel in 20 minutes. Ten minutes later we were loaded up and backing out of Mexican soil.

  That was when I heard the General say, “Paint the target and proceed.” Somewhere near the compound and lab was a soldier with a laser. To “paint the target” meant he was telling the air force jets somewhere above, that their laser guided missiles had a target to take out. The missiles just appeared out of the night sky from high above. The explosion was beyond my imagination. The compound was completely destroyed. There was nothing, and I mean nothing, left of the compound. It was a good thing all those compounds were areas to themselves with no structures of homes close by. The whole operation was a huge success.

  “I never even had to draw my pistol,” I told the General

  He just laughed at me as we got back to camp.

  The other teams arrived back at camp bragging on the success each of them experienced. Each team was comparing the amount of cash each one of them found at their perspective compounds. As the bags of cash were loaded on to our plane, I couldn’t help but think about President Ortiz. He kept his promise and allowed us to catch the cartels off guard. I didn’t know the amount of his reward yet, but I was sure it would be magnificent. I intended to call him as soon as I got back to the White House.

  The flight back was a long one and I got little sleep. I ordered the cash taken to the Pentagon and locked in a safe room to be guarded around the clock. I was taken to the White House, arriving at 0300 hours, just in time to get a quick shower and fall into bed. But who could sleep with the images that were rolling around in my head? The fighting, the SUV blowing up, and the missiles leveling the compound at my location; those things kept coming to the forefront of my consciousness. I dozed off eventually, but morning came too quickly.

  I sat behind my desk, my facial muscles tense. I looked as though I hadn’t been sleeping. It was late morning, and I got a visit from General St. Claire. I stood to greet him in the oval office.

  General St. Claire said, “You don’t stand for me, sir. I stand for you.”

  I responded, “I stand for all that’s good and right.”

  Smiling we shook hands. At the same moment, we both sat.

  I asked, “What’s the good word?”

  He replied, “Well, all told, we took out all four locations including their labs. There was nothing left. If the Mexican government is smart, they will never let the Cartels re-form.”

  I said, “I’m calling President Ortiz after you leave. I just wanted to hear the official word from you and what the press is saying.”

  “Before I leave, I have something else.”

  “Well, tell me some more good news.”

  The General slapped a folder on the desk between us. “Here are this morning’s estimates of the drug trafficking into the United States as of right now. Following last night’s operation, I expect these numbers to drop significantly.”

  I snapped up the folder and started flipping through it. I paused, looked up, and said, “I don’t understand how we could have let the drug flow get this bad.

  General St. Claire declared, “What’s not to understand, sir?”

  “I can believe it,” I said. “It says, um . . . drug trafficking is at an all time high. It has to drop drastically.”

  The General had a glow in his eye. He asks, “Was that not the intention of last nights operation?”

  Nearly speechless, I answered, “Yes, and it happened so easily.”

  “Success never happens easily, sir. It was quick for us . . . but it took you to make it happen.”

  I nodded.

  Nodding back he says, “Sir,” and left.

  I walked to the door of the oval office to find Jerry. He was waiting at his desk. I sent him to get the Secretary of the Treasury. A few minutes later Secretary Winters walked in. I told him I wanted a count of the cash confiscated in the raid, presently under guard at the Pentagon. I told him I needed a total ASAP.

  “I’m on it, Commander.”

  I picked up the phone and called President Ortiz.

  His assistant called him to the phone, and he answered, “Hello, Commander. It’s good to hear from you.”

  I answered, “I’m sure you don’t know this, but I was there last night to witness this historic event. I wanted to be able to give you the true story. I don’t want there to ever be any lies told between us.”

  President Ortiz agreed, “Those are my sentiments exactly. Do you consider the operation to be a success?”

  “Yes, I do, Mr. President,” I answered, “but I want to hear from you. Are there any problems I don’t know about? We were in and out in less than an hour and it was dark. The massive explosion leveling the compound was enormous. I hope there was no collateral damage, and I need to hear your answer on that subject. We tried very hard to avoid causing any.”

  “Commander, as far as we know at this time, the only casualties were those of Cartel members,” said President Ortiz. “Your raid was so late at night, all the lab workers were gone. They are the locals forced to work for the cartel for slave wages. I consider your operation a complete success. The people around the town in close proximity to the compound felt the blast from your missiles, but no one was harmed. Their mood this morning, I’m told, is one of amazement and extreme happiness.”

  “I am so happy to hear you say that, Mr. President,” I said smiling, “and I want to let you know that we are counting the cash we confiscated as we speak. Sir, it was quite a haul. It is a mountain of bills of all denominations. I am looking forward to getting a final number and wiring your government the half I promised you. I want to thank you again and remind you that you owe me a round of golf in your country someday.”

  President Ortiz laughed and promised, “I will most definitely deliver on that. Thank you, Commander.”

  We hung up and I was relieved to find out there were no other causalities other than our intended targets. For the first time since the 1971 war on drugs began, we were winning.

  A few days later, the General called a meeting of the military leaders at my request. The White House conference room was filled with the very same leaders of the Cartel strike operation.

  I sat at the head of the table, laying praise on my leading military personnel, “Gentlemen, we all know the media’s busy analyzing the results of our recent actions, but I’d like to just take a moment here and touch upon the actions themselves. Never before in our military’s history have strikes been carried out with such speed, precision, and conscientious humanitarianism. You men, and the men and women who served you, have proven flexible amidst rapid innovations, effective amidst changing conditions, and brave amidst dangerous circumstances. I’ll be, um . . .”

  That was strange. I seemed to be at a loss for words, and that was never the case. I tried to speak, “I, um . . .” I couldn’t help but shed a tear. I continued, “I’m forever in your debt, men.” I sniffed, wiped my tear away, stood and said, “Don’t tell anybody about what just happened.”

  The men all laughed.

  One lieutenant spoke up, “Sir?”

  I turned to face him.

  “Do we know about the cash yet?”

  “Yes, we do, Lieutenant,” I answered, “but what is it you would like to know?”

  He laughed a little and admitted, “Some of us have a little pool to guess the amount we seized.”

  Of course, I’d already heard about this pool, so I was procrastinating. “Before I tell you, I did hear that one of your men was accused of taking some of the money during the raid,” I said.

  The lieutenant started to smile because he knew to what I was referring. General St. Claire had Captain Goldston plant a wad of $100 bills in one of his men’s backpacks. The General called for a spot inspection and discovered the cash in front of his whole team. Everyone was in on the joke except the one poor soul. He started to de
ny taking any money and was about to explode, when they all broke up laughing at him. It was hilarious and the poor guy took it well. General St. Claire told him, “Son, since you took it so well, I’m going to let you keep half the money.” Then the rest of the team had a funny look on their faces. The soldier looked at the General and asked, “Really?”

  “Uh…. no,” said General St. Claire.

  I was never going to mess with General St. Claire; he was tricky.

  “Oh, yes, Lieutenant. You were wanting to know the total of the cash collected,” I remembered. Everyone was really curious, so I finally spat it out, “It was $21,462,131,410. Half goes to Mexico and the other half will help build the wall.”

  Another one of the military brass spoke up, “Commander Marsh, I would like to speak for everyone in this room and say we are extremely proud to be under your command. We have never had such a determined leader to do what needs to be done to solve the problems of this nation. I dare say there will never be another like you. We all really appreciate what you have done for the country. But we are worried: even though your numbers are high, the country seems contented. But, um . . .”

  General St. Claire interjected, “You are taking a beating in the press, sir.”

  I absorbed these words, gave a nod and said, “I’ve been meaning to have a word with them. General?”

  General St. Claire confirmed, nodding, “We’ll make it so.”

  “Thank you, again, men,” I said. With a wink, I walked away. Meeting over.

  Chapter 16

  DEALING WITH

  NEGATIVES

  Another press conference was scheduled for the next day. Maybe it wouldn’t be as contentious as the last one.

  I stepped up to the podium. The press corps was all eyes and ears. Also on hand were military and White House personnel.

  I began, “I’ll take questions when I’m through with my remarks. We live in radical times, don’t we? Times of massive change. Breakthroughs in our way of seeing things. Drastic new actions on the part of our government. I’ve been pleased to hear words of approval regarding this administration’s conduct. Though meanwhile, of course, the press has a proud and historically anchored duty to engage in inquiry. This was, of course, to be expected. You will inquire upon the pages of your publications, and you will inquire here, face-to-face with me. So in anticipation of your thoughtful and moral inquiries, please just allow me to say the following . . .”

  I took a deep breath and continued, “Nothing I have ordered—not a single thing for which I have wielded our military’s talent and might—has had any negative impact whatsoever on the people whom I like to call ordinary Americans. Ordinary Americans constitute a rather large group. They’re you and me. They’re most of the folks watching this at home. They’re the people who fill our proud communities, large and small. They’re the ones who keep their heads down, do their jobs, take care of their families, and make a real difference. They make the world a brighter place. They exist in a positive spirit, one of health, heart, and stability. Now, I know ordinary Americans well because I am one. Though perhaps in recent days I’ve shifted to the “extraordinary column . . .”

  Everybody laughed.

  “But at heart, I remain a most ordinary and humble soul. Which is why I would not mess around with my ordinary American friends and neighbors. Accordingly, please allow me to make this perfectly clear: Eliminating our maximum-security prisoners has no bad impact on ordinary Americans, for most of us are not heinous criminals. Scaling back our entitlement programs has no bad impact on ordinary Americans, for most of us are not selfish freeloaders. Sending our illegal immigrants home and building an impenetrable fence to keep them out has no bad impact on ordinary Americans, for ordinary Americans happen to be, American!”

  The audience laughed. Some applauded and cheered.

  “So as you conduct your wise analysis, bear in mind the impact that I’ve had on ordinary Americans. In many cases, that impact has been entirely neutral. In many more cases, that impact has opened up staggering gateways toward greater opportunity and abundance. I mean, after all, I’ve redirected billions of dollars that were going to waste so that money can flow back toward the people! And just wait “till I fix baseball and those 4-hour long games.”

  The audience laughed again and applauded. I can’t help myself; I have some comedian in me.

  “I tell ya, that’ll be one heck of a job, fit for discussion at a later point in time, but for now, I promise you this much: Corporate tax rates will remain low so the jobs we saw go overseas can continue to come back home, where they belong. And the money that these corporations have been spending overseas can now be put back into our factories, for the sake of creating jobs—not lining the pockets of the folks up top. I’ll be very certain of that. Meanwhile, I know more and more questions keep cropping up about foreign policy. And I take them seriously, I do. But my aim from the get-go has always been to get our own house in order before we go out attending to the whole global neighborhood. And rest assured: If you think I was tough on our enemies here, you cannot even imagine what I have planned for the enemies that torment us from afar.”

  I could tell the mainstream press wasn’t buying it. No matter what I said, they weren’t going to agree with me. I thought they hated President Trump, but they may hate me more. But like him, I at least had FOX news. They defended me most of the time, but of course they have to be fair and balanced.

  I don’t waver and continue, “In conclusion, before I take your questions, I know I’m looked at in many circles as a madman. The press paints me as a monster. The leaders of the old political parties paint me as a fanatic. Religious leaders pray for my repentance. But as you go about the business of analyzing me, I want you to remember what I’ve said here and now—“

  Gathering my breath, I said, “I am an ordinary man. I never had any political aspirations. I had artistic aspirations: to write a book. And then, wouldn’t you know it? One thing led to another. And here we are. Working to eradicate a system that I long knew was doomed to fail. The old way was self-serving, corrupt, and wasteful. It rewarded those in power and treated the criminals better than the victims. The old way offered a maze of complex regulations, far too obscure for the common man or woman to understand, and reliant upon costly lawyers for interpretation. The old way was a thorny tangle of red tape, slow progress, and checks and balances that threw us way out of balance. So, I’m begging you—just for a little while—to keep trying it my way. No red tape. No slow progress. No self-serving, mixed-up waste. ‘Cause if you think you’ve seen some interesting results so far, then you have no idea what’s on the way. God bless America.” I adjusted my tone, “I’ll take your questions.”

  I thought I had covered everything, but the press . . .

  A reporter on the room’s left stood and asked, “Commander Marsh, the leaders from both major political parties have issued public statements pledged full willingness to cooperate with you and your administration. And yet they find themselves being ignored. Why not work with these leaders in a spirit of bipartisan compromise?

  “Well, my friend, I’ve had many an opportunity to examine the historical record. And unfortunately, those parties blew the chance they had. That chance lasted for almost 250 years. For a lot of it, things went all right, but in general, compromise simply does not work within our system. If I have the solution to a problem, I sure don’t want to water it down by mixing it with someone’s bad idea on how to fix the same problem. This is just common sense. This is a concept foreign to liberal minds. Let me ask everyone in this room a question. I want everyone to pay close attention to this. SOME OF YOU IN THE BACK AREN’T EVEN LISTENING! I feel like I’m teaching a bunch of 8th graders! I don’t care who you are, you need to hear this!”

  I wanted to get their attention, and I had it now.

  “So here’s my question: How will we ever know who is right?”

  I paused and stared them down.

  “How will we ever
know who is right?” I repeated.

  “The Democrats or the Republicans? The Liberals or the Conservatives?”

  I paused.

  “You see, in this polarized atmosphere, neither side gets to solve problems 100% the way they choose. So once again, I ask, how will we ever know who is right? At this moment in our nation’s history, an ordinary American Citizen is applying common sense to deal with the different array of problems in our country. If my solution doesn’t work, I will try yours, but I’m batting a thousand so far. Congress used to compromise and pass a few laws, but right now, Congress and the nation as a whole is so polarized that all we have is gridlock - and a terrifying budget deficit. Sound familiar? Next!”

  A reporter on the room’s right stood and asked, “What is your reaction to the comparisons between you and Adolf Hitler?”

  My expression went stoic and I replied, “Well, for one thing, I’m certainly not the first American leader to earn such a distasteful comparison. Seems all you have to do to drum up that remark is do something somebody somewhere disagrees with!”

  Some of the reporters chuckle. I was sure CNN was loving that.

  But I never wavered, “But in all seriousness, here’s what we have to understand: Hitler had an ill mind. He was a fanatic; he killed innocent people strictly on the basis of his/her religious convictions. Adam Marsh, on the other hand is ready to lay down his life for equality of religion in this country. Do I have a special place for Christianity? Of course! I’m Christian! So are most Americans. We put “In God We Trust” on our currency! And I’ve no shame in celebrating my Christian faith; yet, I bear no intolerance for any other religion our people choose to practice. It’s none of my business. As for those individuals whose lives have not continued under my leadership, we’re talking about a supremely violent class of savage criminals - friends to no one. Many of them handed light sentences for no good reason, or caught within our borders after being asked to leave. I eliminated them to bring money back to our decent, ordinary citizens, and to make room for homeless people and drug addicts to start climbing upward again. And the moment you catch me eliminating someone for a reason that does not benefit my friends and neighbors—or majority of decent, ordinary Americans—I invite you all to start calling for my head. Yet until that day, I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I think Adolf Hitler was a monster. Who’s next?”