Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
Seattle Post-Intelligencer
October 12, 2007 By Edwin Chen, Columnist
Tears rolled down George W. Bush's cheeks. Twice, Hildi Halley handed him a tissue. Otherwise, she didn't let up on the president.
"I hold you responsible for my husband's death," she says she told him as they sat facing one another, alone in a teacher's lounge, their knees almost touching. "You made a mistake, and it's your responsibility as a Christian man to end this war."
"I'm really not here to discuss public policy with you," she says Bush told her at the meeting in August 2006, two months after her husband, Army National Guard Cap. Patrick Damon, died in Afghanistan.
As the president rose to leave after 20 minutes, he said he hoped the visit would help the Falmouth, Maine, woman heal. Halley, 42, replied, "What would really help my healing is if you'd start finding a way to bring our troops home."
Bush, 61, has so far met with more than 1,500 relatives of the 4,255 American troops who have lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan, according to White House officials. As he travels around the country, the president often makes the time to console them -- one family at a time, often including children -- in sessions that he calls "one of the hardest things" about his job.
In most of the meetings, the aides say, he hears support for his policies, hardening his resolve to stay the course in Afghanistan and Iraq. Little is otherwise known about the meetings, and the White House doesn't disclose the names of participants.
Amy Galvez, 46, whose Marine son, Adam, 21, was killed in Iraq, says she told Bush that she supports the war and believes in his sincerity. "The worst thing that could happen is if we quit this war before we finished it," she says she told Bush during her Aug. 31, 2006, meeting in Salt Lake City. "He promised me that would not happen."
Few average citizens get such close-up, unmediated access to modern presidents. Access to Bush is rarer still because his aides go to great lengths to shield him from unpleasant encounters or criticism.
Participants and witnesses say the sessions provide a window onto Bush's compassionate side. "There are few things as heart-wrenching," says former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan, who attended many meetings. "Every single time, he'd be moved to tears."
They also reveal his distaste for engaging those who question his policies.
Rather than entering into a substantive debate with angry relatives, he disengages.
"He's in a listening mode in these settings rather than trying to change somebody's mind," McClellan says. "Some minds you're not going to change one way or the other. And he knows that."
Bush doesn't argue with relatives who tear into him. Sometimes he simply says: "Your son gave his life for his country," or "Your son was a hero," according to Robert Draper, author of "Dead Certain: The Presidency of George W. Bush," a new book based on six hours of interviews with the president.
Halley's meeting with Bush at the Kennebunk Elementary School in Maine, not far from the Bush family's seaside compound in Kennebunkport, started off like most others -- with greetings and expressions of sorrow.
The tone changed after Halley's daughter, Mikayla, now 15, and son, Jan-Christian, now 13, left the room.
As she talked about her husband, Halley began to weep. Soon, Bush was also in tears, she says.
"Now he's dead," Halley, an artist, says she told Bush, no longer able to contain her anger. "For what? I've lost my soul mate."
"I am so sorry for your loss," Bush said more than once.
Their conversation ended shortly after Halley began urging Bush to end the war. "We see things differently," he told her.
Halley says the encounter wasn't "sharp," even with her strong words and emotions. As they parted, they shook hands, he kissed her on the cheek and gave her a souvenir presidential coin.
Another person who criticized Bush to his face was Elaine Johnson of Orangeburg, S.C. Her son, Army specialist Darius Jennings, died with 15 others when their Chinook helicopter was shot down near Fallujah, Iraq, on Nov. 2, 2003.
In her meeting later that month, she says, she repeatedly pressed Bush for a rationale for the war. She says he failed to deliver a satisfactory answer.
"Miss Johnson, you sound a little hostile," Bush said, according to Johnson, who was an industrial quality inspector.
"Of course I feel hostile. My only son was killed and I can't get an answer," Johnson, 44, says she replied.
Bush moved on to a different cluster of family members in the large meeting room at Fort Carson in Colorado. As Bush departed, Johnson says, she tried again.
"Could you tell me what is the mission?" she called out. Bush didn't respond.
Bush spent an hour and 40 minutes that day with 98 relatives from 26 families who had lost loved ones. Johnson says she was probably the only one to have "roughed him up."
McClellan says he is "struck" by how much Bush's resolve is reinforced by supportive relatives. At a Sept. 18 White House event honoring military support groups, the president singled out those on the South Lawn who had lost a loved one in Iraq or Afghanistan.
"The best way to honor the sacrifices that your loved one made, as well as the sacrifice you have made, is to accomplish the mission, is to achieve the peace," Bush said.
"The spouses and the parents look him in eye and say: 'You make sure you finish the job; you make sure he didn't die in vain,' " McClellan says. Such comments "gave him comfort to continue to press ahead, with a strong determination to make sure we succeed."
Edwin Chen writes for Bloomberg News.
October 12, 2007 By Edwin Chen, Columnist
Tears rolled down George W. Bush's cheeks. Twice, Hildi Halley handed him a tissue. Otherwise, she didn't let up on the president.
"I hold you responsible for my husband's death," she says she told him as they sat facing one another, alone in a teacher's lounge, their knees almost touching. "You made a mistake, and it's your responsibility as a Christian man to end this war."
"I'm really not here to discuss public policy with you," she says Bush told her at the meeting in August 2006, two months after her husband, Army National Guard Cap. Patrick Damon, died in Afghanistan.
As the president rose to leave after 20 minutes, he said he hoped the visit would help the Falmouth, Maine, woman heal. Halley, 42, replied, "What would really help my healing is if you'd start finding a way to bring our troops home."
Bush, 61, has so far met with more than 1,500 relatives of the 4,255 American troops who have lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan, according to White House officials. As he travels around the country, the president often makes the time to console them -- one family at a time, often including children -- in sessions that he calls "one of the hardest things" about his job.
In most of the meetings, the aides say, he hears support for his policies, hardening his resolve to stay the course in Afghanistan and Iraq. Little is otherwise known about the meetings, and the White House doesn't disclose the names of participants.
Amy Galvez, 46, whose Marine son, Adam, 21, was killed in Iraq, says she told Bush that she supports the war and believes in his sincerity. "The worst thing that could happen is if we quit this war before we finished it," she says she told Bush during her Aug. 31, 2006, meeting in Salt Lake City. "He promised me that would not happen."
Few average citizens get such close-up, unmediated access to modern presidents. Access to Bush is rarer still because his aides go to great lengths to shield him from unpleasant encounters or criticism.
Participants and witnesses say the sessions provide a window onto Bush's compassionate side. "There are few things as heart-wrenching," says former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan, who attended many meetings. "Every single time, he'd be moved to tears."
They also reveal his distaste for engaging those who question his policies.
Rather than entering into a substantive debate with angry relatives, he disengages.
"He's in a listening mode in these settings rather than trying to change somebody's mind," McClellan says. "Some minds you're not going to change one way or the other. And he knows that."
Bush doesn't argue with relatives who tear into him. Sometimes he simply says: "Your son gave his life for his country," or "Your son was a hero," according to Robert Draper, author of "Dead Certain: The Presidency of George W. Bush," a new book based on six hours of interviews with the president.
Halley's meeting with Bush at the Kennebunk Elementary School in Maine, not far from the Bush family's seaside compound in Kennebunkport, started off like most others -- with greetings and expressions of sorrow.
The tone changed after Halley's daughter, Mikayla, now 15, and son, Jan-Christian, now 13, left the room.
As she talked about her husband, Halley began to weep. Soon, Bush was also in tears, she says.
"Now he's dead," Halley, an artist, says she told Bush, no longer able to contain her anger. "For what? I've lost my soul mate."
"I am so sorry for your loss," Bush said more than once.
Their conversation ended shortly after Halley began urging Bush to end the war. "We see things differently," he told her.
Halley says the encounter wasn't "sharp," even with her strong words and emotions. As they parted, they shook hands, he kissed her on the cheek and gave her a souvenir presidential coin.
Another person who criticized Bush to his face was Elaine Johnson of Orangeburg, S.C. Her son, Army specialist Darius Jennings, died with 15 others when their Chinook helicopter was shot down near Fallujah, Iraq, on Nov. 2, 2003.
In her meeting later that month, she says, she repeatedly pressed Bush for a rationale for the war. She says he failed to deliver a satisfactory answer.
"Miss Johnson, you sound a little hostile," Bush said, according to Johnson, who was an industrial quality inspector.
"Of course I feel hostile. My only son was killed and I can't get an answer," Johnson, 44, says she replied.
Bush moved on to a different cluster of family members in the large meeting room at Fort Carson in Colorado. As Bush departed, Johnson says, she tried again.
"Could you tell me what is the mission?" she called out. Bush didn't respond.
Bush spent an hour and 40 minutes that day with 98 relatives from 26 families who had lost loved ones. Johnson says she was probably the only one to have "roughed him up."
McClellan says he is "struck" by how much Bush's resolve is reinforced by supportive relatives. At a Sept. 18 White House event honoring military support groups, the president singled out those on the South Lawn who had lost a loved one in Iraq or Afghanistan.
"The best way to honor the sacrifices that your loved one made, as well as the sacrifice you have made, is to accomplish the mission, is to achieve the peace," Bush said.
"The spouses and the parents look him in eye and say: 'You make sure you finish the job; you make sure he didn't die in vain,' " McClellan says. Such comments "gave him comfort to continue to press ahead, with a strong determination to make sure we succeed."
Edwin Chen writes for Bloomberg News.
