★ 1145 In the small dressing room next to the bathroom Tom Olsen and I share behind our office, there is a stuffed couch that looks like the finest king-size bed right about now. I sneak in for a quick nap, while George Gitchell sits outside the door and screens calls and callers. In seconds I’m into a deep sleep, but I will wake up according to an internal alarm clock in my brain. I have always been able to wake up after whatever time I choose—fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour, or 6:00 A.M. the next day. As it is, I will sleep between half an hour and an hour. After I wake up, I will go downstairs to lunch with the troops—another chance to find out what is going on and what they are thinking or worrying about.

★ 1300 Up with cold water in the face and a toothbrushing to remove the remainders of the owl who slept in my mouth. I head downstairs to the Saudi cafeteria. The cook is an American Muslim who now lives in Riyadh after retiring from the USAF. Guess what fills my plate? You got it—grilled chicken, steamed rice with gravy, and boiled vegetables. It is tasty, but always the same. There is a salad of finely chopped, dark green lettuce mixed with finely chopped vegetables that might be green and red peppers, or might be stems of some exotic plant. Not so good, but keeps you regular. Dessert is usually a cake with crushed pistachio nuts on top. Water and a Diet Coke on the side.

I walk past the cash registers. The food’s on the house, thanks to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Now I search for a place to sit. I’ve got two criteria: (1) an empty chair, and (2) the people around it still have lots of food on their plates. Otherwise, when the general sits down, they will blush and mutter, “Got to go now.” No one wants to sit with me.