Confessions of a Banner-Hanger

I confess. You know that banner on the USS Abraham Lincoln? The one that no one will take "credit" for? Well, it was my idea. I'm in debt to W for covering for me, but I can't live the lie anymore. The truth wants to be free.

I remember it like was yesterday...It was late April, and at about 3 in the morning, my phone rang. It was Cmdr. Ron Horton, the executive officer of the Lincoln. I think he realized by my groggy tone that he had woken me up, because he mumbled something about the International Date Line and how it was like 4 in the afternoon of next Tuesday where he was.

But I digress. Ron was in a tizzy. "Look, we're having W over for tea, and we don't know what to serve. Watercress seems so trite, but the guy who's got the good chili recipe is on shore leave, so we're panicking out here."

I offered some menu suggestions that, for reasons of national security, I am not at liberty to divulge (although I did tell Robert Novak about the menu). But then I asked the fateful question, the one that led to this whole fiasco: "Say, Ron, where're you gonna be when W comes calling?"

"Tied up in San Diego. Why?"

"So your photo-op will be of your commander in chief walking up a gangplank like a lowly seaman?"

"Um..."

"Ron, Ron, Ron. How many times do I have to tell you? That's no way to treat a colossus like W as he bestrides the world. No, a hero like W deserves a hero's entrance. In your case, that means flying him to your ship on a fighter jet. Trust me, Ron, a tailhook landing onto your aircraft carrier is a sure way to make a big splash, if you'll pardon the expression, in the media!"

"A tailhook landing? Are you nuts? We'll be in dry dock in San Diego for repairs by the time he gets here! You can't land a jet on a carrier in dry dock! There are regs against that kind of thing, you know."

"Relax, Ron, we can fix that. Call the dry dock people and tell them you'll be late, and please hold your appointment. Say that, I don't know, you're running late, you have to stop at the dry cleaners and drop the kids at daycare, and then you'll be right over to get the boat serviced. Then, just keep the ship circling around with San Diego just over the horizon until the big day. That way, no one will ever know how close to home you are."

"Okay, fine, but usually, we have a Naval band from San Diego on deck that plays 'Hail to the Chief' as he walks up the gangplank. Now how do we honor him?"

"Have you thought about hanging some kind of banner, you know, that would welcome the commander in chief?"

"Ooh, great idea. But what should we say? How about 'Welcome, President Bush, to the USS Lincoln, the best darn ship in the Navy'?"

I had to cringe. The man had no flair for creating a mood. But no matter, that's why he was calling me. "Ron, you guys just completed some kind of whaddya call it, a mission of some sort, right?"

I wasn't a Navy guy, obviously. "It's called a 'deployment'", he sniffed

"Yeah, well, that sounds technical and dorky. So how's about we keep it simple, huh? Make a banner that says 'Mission Accomplished', and hang it from the CIC, so that it's visible from the flight deck."

And that was it. Ron sounded visibly relieved as he hung up the phone, but I'm afraid that he didn't hear my last words, which were "Just be sure that W doesn't get photographed under the sign."

[for another, more implausible, version of how it happened, look here]