John wakes up immediately, sits up on the edge of the bed, and says, “Thanks, I’ll take it in the living room.”

As I turn, I hear John light up a cigar.

I stop in the head and relieve myself, then shuffle back to my room. When I get there, the phone is still resting on the table by my bed, and I can hear Schwarzkopf talking—yelling—at John. I wonder why he bothered to use the phone. All he had to do was open a window at MODA (about one and a half miles to our south) and we all could have heard him. I put the receiver on the hook, but I can still hear John answering the CINC’s questions in the living room.

I fall asleep admiring John’s resilience and patience.

★ 0530 My alarm goes off, and I can hear someone making coffee in the kitchen—either John or his aide, Major Fong. My new aide, Major Mark (Hoot) Gibson, is down in the UAE flying combat missions.67

I’m glad John has stayed over; I don’t often have a chance to talk with him.

I hit the shower and shave there, then I’m into my desert fatigues in an instant. They are draped over a chair by the door, and I don’t change them that often. Everyone else is just as grimy, and it is a pain in the ear to put all the stuff I need into the pockets of the new uniform—billfold, security badges, handkerchief, atropine syringe—all the stuff you carry around when you are involved in a war.

★ 0550 As John and I drink coffee and listen to the CNN news, he goes over the latest CINC tirade. It seems that late last night, after John had left for home, Freddie Franks had sent in a message that pissed Schwarzkopf off. John explains both sides of the problem and how he is going to take care of it.

It seems to me that John has two problem children, Fred and the CINC, and as a result, he isn’t having much fun.