A few, the happy few, off to Agincourt
by Wes Pruden
We've all got a duty, like him or not, to support the president in time of war. He's our leader, after all, and if he stumbles, America stumbles.
The president's dilemma is nevertheless exquisite, and those of us who have been Bill Clinton's severest critics -- some whippersnapper conservatives eager to loose the dogs of war sneer at us, inaccurately, as "Clinton haters" -- now owe it to the president, to the country, to ourselves to come up with the strategy to win Mr. Clinton's war in Yugoslavia.
It's not an easy assignment. How can a president who dodged the draft when his country called 30 years ago, who boasted of his "loathing" of the military he now commands (and dispatches to foreign wars with the abandon of a Hot Springs high roller on a hot streak), who dares not condemn the rapists of Kosovo for fear of condemning his own rapacious self -- how can such a president dispatch American men to a Balkans meat grinder?
Well, he can't, not even with another apology. He'll have no authority, moral or otherwise, and if there's a panic at Harvard and Yale at the mere thought that one day the sons of the elites might be called on to sacrifice something more than a day at the beach, the president won't even be able to offer a mild tut-tut in rebuke.
Unless, unless. Here's the president's way out, a way to silence his loud, persistent, insufferable critics (some of whom look a lot like me): the president could organize a regiment of Zouaves, patterned after the famous Zouave regiments in both Union and Confederate armies who fought with such bravado and derring-do in our own civil war nearly a century and a half ago. And not only organize the regiment, but with a little training -- the chairman of the chiefs of staff has finally taught him to snap off a passable salute --Mr. Clinton could take his Zouaves into battle himself and leave the snafu at home to the keeping of Al Gore. Mr. Clinton reminded us during the '92 campaign that he was no stranger to military command, and had more than once dispatched Arkansas National Guardsmen to stack sandbags along the flooding Ouachita River. If you can command a sandbag, why not a soldier?
The president should announce this week, at the big gala in Washington celebrating NATO's glorious success, that he intends to be the first head of state in this century to actually lead troops on the field of combat. And here, for Mr. Clinton, is the beauty part: He could invite all the gung-ho senators and congressmen, hell-for-leather pundits and think-tank commandos, as well as the Republican presidential candidates to join his Zouave regiment for their first try at soldiering. No more having to rely on John Wayne and Randolph Scott to learn how lead and powder actually taste. John McCain, who needs no invention of a military record, no polishing of his bonafides as a man of duty, honor and courage, is excused, though if he wants to see war from the ground up this time he could go along as an observer.
Who among these worthies could resist? The Zouaves were all the rage, circa 1860, and they could be again. Most of the Zouaves, named for the original Zouaoua tribesmen of North Africa recruited into the French army for its invasion of Algeria in 1830, learned that war was not quite as romantic as they imagined. "But in the years before the Civil War," writes the historian William C. Davis, "a fascination with the Zouaves swept America, capturing the imagination of both northerners and southerners. The colorful uniform, the performance of the drill and the pomp and ceremony attached to them, was a way of expressing an inner exuberance that . . . convention repressed in most Americans of the mid-Nineteenth Century."
Repressed or not, women fell helpless at the sight of the Zouave uniform -- baggy red trousers, short blue jacket with red piping, and a tassled fez. They would fall again. What delicious photo ops! (Editor's note: The prohibition at The Times on the use of exclamation points is suspended in dispatches about the 1st Zouave (Clinton's Own) Regiment.) What splendid parade-ground footage! What rapturous music! Fleetwood Mac comes out of retirement to render a lively reprise of "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow." Mr. Clinton would be awash in new interns. Liddy Dole, though not eligible for combat, could drive the Red Cross doughnut truck, though imagine her surprise if she arrives to find Madeleine Albright already dispensing Krispy Kreme and coffee from the Salvation Army van.
The effect would be electrifying. All Americans would be inspired, some in spite of themselves. Slobo would sue for peace. Bill Clinton would take his place with Hannibal, Alexander the Great, Henry V, maybe even Stonewall Jackson. The world would be safe again for NATO.
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(grin) Hannibal, Alexander the Great, Henry V, Stonewall Jackson and... Bill Clinton.
HURRAH! |
