Meeting POTUS

By Chris Martin

I was assigned to ODA 973 A Co. 5Th BN. 19th SFG(A). Our mission was Foreign Internal Defense. We were working with the 1st BANA (Battalion of Afghan National Army) and teaching them small unit tactics in and around the area of the Presidential Palace in Kabul. By mid-December 2002, we were wrapping up our training cycle. Headquarters made a decision months earlier that the ODA’s could rotate half their teams out of the AO for a Christmas break. So, at this time, half our team was in the process of returning from their break and the other half was preparing to leave for theirs. Because I was finishing paramedic school at the time of our initial deployment, I didn’t have enough time in country to qualify for leave. I, therefore, was stuck in country. I was not alone. Our team Intel Sgt was in the same boat. He got into country shortly after I did.

By the end of the training cycle, SFC Mike Lyons and I suddenly found ourselves responsible for the team business. So, we had S-1 and S-4 duties to handle all for the benefit of the BANA. Well, while driving through Kabul, a young Talaban member ambushed our vehicle with an IED injuring both SFC Lyons and myself. Little did I know the wild ride that was to follow.

My odyssey began on 17 December 2002. That was the day we got hit. We got ourselves to a German hospital at the ISAF (International Security Assistance Force) compound. A day later, we were transported to Baghram where we were stabilized. Two days later we were flown to Germany. From there SFC Lyons and I were split up. SFC Lyons stayed in Germany while I went on to Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

At Walter Reed

I arrived at Walter Reed on 22 December 2002. As I was being wheeled into the hospital, for in processing, I somehow got into a conversation about general officers. I was told that if I was going to be there long enough I would meet a general or two. That, as it turned out, was an understatement.

The very next day, I was visited by the Army Chief of Staff General Shinseki. I learned he often visited the new arrivals at Walter Reed. He was a very cordial man who had been injured in Viet Nam so he had a legitimate interest in those who had been injured too. I was then visited by Representative Bill Young, who, at the time, was the House Appropriations Committee Chairman. He and his wife were absolutely awesome people. Before I left the hospital, they visited me multiple times and gave me a personal and private tour of the Capital Building and showed me things that the general public simply doesn’t get a chance to see.

Between 22 December 2002, and 7 January 2003, no less than 5 General Officers, the Army Command Sergeant Major, and the Senior Chief Warrant Officer of the Army visited me. One day General John Keane, who, at that time, was the Vice Army Chief of Staff, visited me. He is a large man and fit the typical description of a true general officer. His initial visit was atypical.

The request

At the end of the visit, he asked me, like all the other generals did, if I needed anything and if there was anything they could do for me. Well, maybe it was the medication I was on that reduced my inhibitions that I am now surprised at, but when the General finished the question, I told him, “Well, Sir, if the President isn’t too busy I would really like to meet him.” He replied that he wasn’t sure if President Bush had even visited the hospital since he became President, but he told me that he would see what he could do. I remember thinking that nothing would ever happen and I felt that maybe I was perhaps a little disrespectful.

Nevertheless, my treatment continued, as did my visits. About a week later, the same General Keane visited again this time with an American Red Cross Representative. At the end of the visit, General Keane once again asked if there was anything he could do for me. And, once again, I reminded him that I would still like to meet the President. He told me, “I’m working on that.”

About two days later, interesting things began to happen. I was visited by Secretary of the Army Thomas E. White. The next day, I met the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Richard B. Myers. By the end of the week Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld stopped by. All at the same time, the Secret Service was walking around the ward I was in setting up security and testing communications and so on. On January 15, I was advised that there was going to be a rather important visitor on the ward soon but no one would let me in on the secret. The next day, I was moved out of my room that had recently been meticulously cleaned and moved to yet another room, which was slightly less clean, and an “X” made out of electrical tape was placed on the floor in front of the door. Before I fell asleep that night, my physical therapist came by my room and told me that we were going to start very early due to the mysterious visitor due the next day.

The big day

On January 17, 2003, I was awakened by the Commander of the hospital who told me that I needed a haircut. By this time, I knew what was going to happen. The Hospital Commander was still trying to “keep the secret” and I played along.

While I was getting my haircut, my physical therapist showed up with a big grin on her face. She told me that the entire hospital was locked down and there was a two-mile traffic jam outside for entrance to the facility. She took me to my room so I could have a little chow before my PT.

By 0800 hrs I was on my way to therapy. While being pushed through the halls in my wheelchair, I passed long lines of people arriving to work. The lines were for ID checks and security similar to those found at an airport terminal. Most of the employees may not have been too pleased to meet me since I was the ultimate reason for their early morning hassles. Nevertheless, my therapist introduced me as “the guy who the President was going to visit.”

I was in the middle of my therapy session when my therapist received a call from the ward to return ASAP. So, back upstairs I went. When I got there, the Hospital Commander was waiting, presumably to see if I really got my haircut, which, he paid for. He reminded me that I needed to shave and he handed me a Bic razor and a small can of shaving cream.

At that point, I was told that the President was en-route and would be arriving within the hour. This apparently made CNN because I got a call from home by a former SF buddy of mine. I told him that it was true but I had to keep the conversation short. I hung up the phone and proceeded to cut the hell out of my neck with the razor.

After I finished with the razor and I managed to stop the bleeding, I felt a sense of nervousness. I knew the President was near and I didn’t want to look like a dork. I wanted to represent myself, my unit, and Special Forces to the best of my ability and that started with a sense of confidence that SF guys often display.

Now I was waiting. I decided to turn on TV and have a seat in my wheelchair. My TV was attached to my bed by a movable arm and I could manipulate it to view from just about any angle. Unfortunately for me, I had to turn my back from the door. I figured somebody would call uniformed personnel to attention or that there would be some disturbance in the nearby Nurses Station that would give me a clue that the Commander in Chief was here. I turned on ESPN and allowed myself to relax for just a minute.

The visitor

Maybe 10 minutes passed and I noticed that all the sound in the hallway absolutely vanished. I turned around and there, standing on the electrical tape “X,” was the President of the United States, George W. Bush. For a split second, I panicked. I fumbled with the TV and turned it off. Then I swung my chair around to greet him. In just a few seconds, President Bush, Mrs. Bush, the White House photographer and about 10 other people entered my little hospital room.

The first thing President Bush did was make his way to the sink to wash his hands before shaking mine. To my chagrin, the sink had barely a trickle of water. He used the hand sanitizer instead of soap and made it all work.

Next, he turned around and I stood up to shake his hand. I am the first member of my family to ever meet a sitting President. “How are you doing?” he asked. I answered the best way I could, “I’m fine, Sir.” “Where are you from?” he asked. “From California, Sir.” I answered.

The conversation lasted for about 7-10 minutes. He was very down to earth. He was very nice, not pretentious, not arrogant, and very respectful. The First Lady gave me a kiss on the cheek. We then posed for pictures. First, the White House photographer snapped a few photos. Then, the President discovered my little disposable camera sitting on my nightstand. He picked it up and tossed it to the White House guy and said, “Now take a few with a real camera.” There were a few chuckles as the White House photographer fumbled with my little $15 special camera that I purchased the day before in the Hospital Commissary.

When it was all over, I realized that I received something money could never buy. I got a private meeting with the most powerful man in the world. It all started with a last-minute, almost “smart-assy” question, and it finished with a day that I will be able to tell my grandkids about. I have the photos and the memories, and I enjoy telling the story. Every once in a while, I get a beer out of it. Not that I really deserve it, but what the hell?