| Major-General Colon Powell stared gravely ahead at the mass of reporters. Like a good many of his colleagues, his interest in President Bush's declaration of war speech was feigned. Hours earlier, Powell had pulled the president aside, aiding in the final decision to launch war on the Iraqis.
"George, there's no turning back now. We've worked too long and hard on this. Besides, you know how Americans are going to react if you don't show some muscle here -- you know what they'll say George -- "It's time for George Bush to take the Charles Atlas course in foreign policy, because we Americans are damn tired of having Arab nations kick sand in our faces in front of our NATO girlfriends.""
Soon after, his deepest psycho-sexual fears affronted, Mr. Bush proceeded to launch the largest air assault on a single city in the history of mankind.
"Our nation was founded on the democratic principles of freedom and the right to self-determination", the president sternly announced, reading from a prepared script. "We therefore have an obligation to release the free people of Kuwait from the bonds of their foreign oppressor. Iraq is an aggressor nation and The United States of America will not stand idly by while aggressor nations use military force to achieve their expansionist ends." Bush adjusted his glasses and continued. "Saddam, or should I say 'Sodom', Hussein is an evil villain and America will lead a crusade against the Saddamites."
Bush looked up from his speech.
"I will take a few questions from the floor -- please keep them brief." He scanned the sea of arm-waving reporters, and pointed to one in the front row.
"President Bush, was there no chance whatsoever of a diplomatic resolution to this conflict?"
"The United States is not prepared to negotiate with the Iraqis while they continue their occupation of Kuwait. Since they refuse to pull out of Kuwait, they leave us with no other alternative but to use force to remove them." Flashbulbs greeted his response.
A female reporter in the gallery caught Bush's attention.
"Mr. Bush, didn't we invade Panama a year ago?"
"That's correct."
"You don't see a CONTRAdiction here?"
"There's no contradiction. Panama was different because, in that instance, we were saving the people of Panama from a horrible, unlawful dictator. There is no way you can compare our nation's directive to defend democracy and freedom with the hostile expansionism practised by criminals such as Saddam Hussein!"
Reporters thrust their arms in the air, shouting out questions for the President. Colon Powell stepped up to the podium.
"No further questions. You can bring them up tomorrow at the President's daily press conference".
* * * * *
Joe Average sported a zombie-like expression as he viewed the President's speech on television. Usually Joe was pretty choked when news bulletins interrupted important football games, but this particular interruption had him glued to the set. The President concluded his speech and the voices of the network commentators came on the air.
"Jane, I must applaud the President's actions. He has acted firmly and decisively in this matter, something many Americans didn't think he was capable of."
"I must concur with you there Ted."
"My only reservations concern the massive military arsenal that the diseased Saddam Hussein is believed to have at his disposal - like these dreaded "scud missiles" we are hearing so much about, for instance."
"Good point Ted. We have to ask ourselves what kind of carnage and suffering this madman Hussein is capable of inflicting? I'm very concerned about the American lives at stake here."
Joe's face darkened.
"We'll make those coloured bastards pay dearly for every American life that's lost! Fuckin' barbarians don't deserve to live."
The reporters, meanwhile, turned their attention to possible Allied defenses against the Iraqis.
"Jane, what we have here is training footage of the United States' new "Stealth" bombers. The Pentagon is very eager to see these high-tech planes in live combat situations."
* * * * *
The next Sunday, Joe sat on the sofa switching back and forth between the football game and the ongoing CNN coverage of the war. His wife did housework around him, her expression shifting from bleak to angry. Joe's eyes were red and bleary from a week of watching CNN non-stop every night after work.
INSERT VIDEOGAME - STYLE COVERAGE OF WAR HERE
"I'll tell ya Linda, this war coverage is almost as exciting as the Super Bowl. CNN must be cleaning up in the ratings."
Linda only nodded faintly. She continued to stack Joe's dirty dishes, careful not to block his view of the television.
CNN shifted to coverage of war protests across the country. Footage of a protest in Los Angeles appeared and a commentator's voice over began:
"There is a growing concern among many Americans that liberal sympathizers will turn the war in the gulf into another Vietnam-type situation, with public resistance here at home undermining the military mandate in Iraq."
Joe drove his foot into the coffee table. "This ain't going to be another Vietnam, no goddamn way", he snarled. "We're gonna kick some brown Arab ass and bring all the boys home. Fuck these peacenik wimps who turn on their own troops, their own country! What fucking right do they have to whine about war when the real Americans are in some god-forsaken desert, defending these wimps' freedom, their way of life."
"Almost makes you want to revive the 'House Un-American Activities Committee' eh Joe", Linda quipped, grinning as she hauled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet. "In fact, I think you'd make a fine Joseph McCarthy."
"At least McCarthy put a lid on unpatriotic bleeding hearts like these bastards", Joe shot back. Linda switched on the vacuum and Joe raised his voice.
"If these people don't like America, they should get the hell out! Next thing you know they'll be burning the flag."
"Look at this guy, Linda." Joe gestured at the television. A protester held a sign reading 'No War Over OIL'. "I'll bet the fucking hypocrite owns two or three cars himself".
Linda flicked the vacuum off, yanked the cord out of the wall, and wrapped it up. Without looking at Joe, she carried the vacuum with her as she left the room.
Disgusted by the sight of the peace protesters, Joe angrily punched the channel-switcher on the remote. A panning shot of a football stadium crowd appeared. American flags were everywhere, as well as a massive "Go Bills, Go America" sign. Joe drew a heavy, proud breath.
"We'll get those damn A-rabs", he muttered. The field announcer's voice came on:
"Players, fans, while we are enjoying this battle on the football gridiron today, let us remember another battle that concerns the United States of America. May our hearts and our support go out to the men and women on our side. Let's cheer them on to victory."
The stadium crowd erupted with a thunderous roar and Joe joined them in a boisterous chant of "U-S-A, U-S-A . . ."
* * * * *
"Everything's going great George", Colon Powell exclaimed. "The public and the networks are really eating it up."
"Good to hear, Colon, good to hear", said Bush, looking satisfied.
"Castro, Ho-Chi-Minh, Noriega, Hussein," Powell said, assuming a reflective pose, "how do we keep coming up with these guys."
"It fills a need in our national psyche" replied Bush. "It's vital that America has its opponent to measure itself against, to show off its brilliance." Bush paused. "Democracy must flourish, it must go forth and multiply . . ."
"Amen!", retorted Powell, and the the two men joined together in a little hearty laughter. When Bush finished chuckling, he addressed his aide seriously.
"Are we having any trouble controlling the press? I assume they're still only getting access to what we give them."
"No worries George", Powell answered him. "It's happening just like Panama. They only go where we allow them to and our boys in communications are editing everything before it's released to the public. Hell, it'll be years before the public becomes conscious of any of this stuff -- and by then it won't matter."
"That's what I wanted to hear."
It was silent for a moment, then Bush became serious.
"Colon."
"Yeah, George."
"No charred bodies on TV, right?"
"No charred bodies", Powell replied.
* * * * *
Joe Average was -- you guessed it -- in front of the television. He was watching a panel discussion entitled Where is Hussein Hiding? Joe grew restless and changed channels to a shot of General Norman Shortsoff standing next to an easel. He had a firm grasp on his pointer as he raised it at a chart, explaining the intricacies of Operation Desert Storm to a roomful of reporters.
". . . and our ground forces rammed Saddam's Republican guard from behind, effectively reducing the Iraqi army to a pillar of salt", boasted Shortsoff. The general stepped away from the easel and lowered his pointer.
"Are there any questions?"
"General Shortsoff, we're hearing reports of 25,000 Iraqi casualties. Can you tell us the number of Iraqi civilian casualties?"
"Throughout the air campaign and Operation Desert Storm we have gone after military targets only", the general replied.
"What about the bunker in Baghdad that was being used as a civilian shelter? We've heard several hundred civilians died when the bunker was bombed."
"I repeat, there have been no attacks on non-military targets", Shortsoff shot back, unconsciously increasing his grip on his pointer.
* * * * *
President Bush and Colon Powell arrived at the press conference with the usual army of secret-service men. Something was different about Bush as he waded through the cheering, appreciative throng of reporters. There was a certain swagger to his walk, his mannerisms had assumed a certain bravado. Smiling proudly, he stepped up to the podium, stretched out his right arm, and opened his hand palm-first so that it faced his supporters. He maintained this stance for a few moments, then began to speak:
"I am here to tell you that Iraq has surrendered to the American and Allied forces representing the United Nations. Our forces have re-established Kuwait's borders and we are setting up a no-man's land between Kuwait and Iraq."
A wave of applause swept over the room. The president smiled broadly.
"The war in the gulf has been successful on all fronts. We have emancipated the Kuwaiti oil . . .". Bush looked around nervously for a moment, then continued: "I mean the Kuwaiti people. We have witnessed a truly great victory for freedom, democracy, and righteousness!"
A wave of applause swept over the room. The President raised his hand in acknowledgment and continued.
"To the friends and family of the two hundred and forty American and Allied soldiers killed in action, I send my deepest regret and sorrow. Comfort yourself in the knowledge that your loved ones died valiantly, on the side of Justice." The President paused, assuming the requisite look of sorrowful resignation. "Casualties were, thankfully,negligible . . ."
"You mean besides the tens of thousands of Iraqis", came the voice of a reporter near the back.
"That's true," Bush replied sternly, "but you've got to break a few eggs to make an omelette. Iraq is an aggressor nation and Saddam Hussein is a demented villain. Stopping him required extreme measures, but the United States is always ready to use extreme measures."
Reporters thrust their arms in the air and hopped up and down. Bush pointed to a woman near the back.
"Has Saddam Hussein been captured yet?", she asked. Colon Powell stepped forward.
"Saddam Who?-Sein", Powell said wryly. Laughter followed and Powell continued. "We're working on it. Next question for the President."
"This isn't actually a question", began a reporter a few rows back, "I just wanted to congratulate you, Mr. Bush. The war was successful and your popularity is soaring. You have certainly earned your status as leader of the Free World." There was mild applause.
"Thank you. We're very pleased with our successful campaign. Colon and I were just saying a moment ago that we'll have to look into doing this again -- sometime before the next election."
* * * * *
Joe Average, wearing his "Operation Desert Storm" ball cap, was glued to the television again. His eyes were red and watery and his face bore a rage-filled expression as he viewed CNN's coverage of the military funeral of two American soldiers.
"These heroic men were just two of the one hundred and forty-six American men and women killed in the Gulf conflict", lamented the solemn-voiced announcer.
The network broke for commercials. Joe wiped at his eyes with his shirt sleeve and decided to make a brew run. He was halfway to the refrigerator when an excited voice emanated from the television.
"Now available from K-Tel distributors, Operation Desert Storm -- The Video!', the announcer wailed. Joe ran back into the room.
"See American Stealth bombers destroy Iraqi tanks. See Allied bombers obliterate Iraqi targets." The footage of Americans annihilating Iraqis brought an elated Joe to his feet, his fist thrust forward.
"What a kill!", he cried out, revelling in the carnage-laden images.
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