Inside the Headquarters

Yes, there is an Incarcerated Veterans Program sponsored by the VA. That’s right. No joke. In an era when we want to ensure no veteran is left behind, we have programs for the prison population.

According to the VA, the program is designed to address “the community re-entry needs” of incarcerated veterans. Great. And that’s a VA responsibility? According to the VA’s own publications, veterans possessing better than a dishonorable discharge are eligible, though the VA declined to comment beyond its published information. Queries on the number of veterans in the program at any one time also went unanswered.

Annual incarcerated vet program cost: The VA did not comment on that either.

If anyone, like lawmakers, is concerned about allocation and scarcity of resources for the majority of veterans, we are unsure why a program like this exists. Yeah, thugs are people, too, but there’s a limit. As with many other social welfare programs, it seems those who are unable to play by society’s rules get the public’s monetary sympathy while those who might just be squeaking by (on the good side of the law) are not otherwise eligible for VA programs. But it’s comforting to know if they were to become homeless or go to prison, then they’d fall under one of several programs targeting this population. What a deal. There’s incentive.

The program pushes money out to community-based organizations that apply and are qualified to help these deserving criminals. Our guess: there’s little oversight and this money works its way into other community initiatives that might not involve veterans. State and local public agencies may apply, as well as nonprofits. Also, for-profit commercial entities may jump in and turn a profit. Maybe lawmakers like this program — potentially more bucks in their districts. Show me the money!

If we’re going to squander tax dollars, why not take this a step further? Why not break the incarcerated veterans program down and rank the criminals by those most in need by crime? The multiple-felon veterans’ program? The repeat-offender veterans’ program? The white-collar crime and the sexual predator veterans’ programs? The drug king pin veterans’ program?
Absurd? Is it any more absurd than the program itself?

The swallows have Capistrano, we’ll always have Paris, and one of this nation’s most bizarre activist gatherings will always have Fort Benning, Ga. For the 18th year in a row, thousands joined founder Father Roy Bourgeois (Ol’ Roy) and School of the Americas (SOA) Watch groupies outside Benning’s main gate.

In a few cyber inches, here’s how tiny Columbus has become an activist Mecca:

While training foreign military personnel is common at U.S. military classrooms, controversy erupted when it appeared some SOA graduates were wanted for human rights violations in their home nations. Though there was no link between training at Fort Benning and criminal conduct in South America (we’re talking areas of study like motor maintenance), that fact detracted from this lightning rod issue that draws the well-meaning as well as the unbalanced. Activists labeled it School of the Assassins. Clever. As pressure mounted, Congress got involved and finally DoD agreed the school would be restructured with increased emphasis on human rights training. So the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (WHINSEC) was born and opened just one month after SOA closed. Not the smartest move.

Some put the “pro” in protester: Each year, they return with same old rhetoric and a few new slogans. “Same shame different name” plays well. Each year, there are some headliners. (Actor Martin Sheen is a perennial possibility!) Each year, there’s some pretty good music. Each year, they follow old traditions — our favorite is the “die-in.” Always a crowd pleaser. Each year, groups that can spell neither SOA nor WHINSEC come for their own, unassociated causes. (Remember Dafur!)

Each year, Congress introduces a bill to close the school (yes, WHINSEC now), pandering to the outer edges of its (voting) constituencies.

And down at Benning, each side has become so familiar with the other, leaders dine and pledge assurances to one another going into the annual event. Problems benefit no one. Ralph and Sam (who perform their sheep dog-meets-wolf antics through the course of a workday/protest — not before, not after) enter and leave on good terms.

The protesters and soldiers have punched out for 2007. See you next November, Ralph and Sam.

As football season draws to a close, so does reunion season. No more lurking uncomfortably in parking lots with people you never really knew. No more feigning friendship and interest where none exists. No more until next year when the cycle begins anew.

So why do people who rarely interacted way back when and are likely filled with apathy or disdain reunite 10, 20, 30 years later under the guise of friendship?

We asked our panel, and they think we’re talking measures of validity and quieting insecurity.

The service academy crowd isn’t much different. Recently, the women from one of the earlier classes held a reunion of sorts. No sisterhood here. Most never spoke to one another. So why get together now? Here’s the obvious question: Why would this group hold a single-gender gathering? It’s not like they’re old friends. Not sure, but our panel repeated: “Validation! Insecurity!” OK. Got it.

So this group has a brunch. (Who does brunch?) “Validation! Insecurity!” chimed the chorus, uh, panel.

This is where it gets good. Brunch came and went, and then it took on new life. First, there was the public gushing. Then what really caught us off guard were the post-event confessions (truth not required) explaining why members could not attend. (We did not know that was a post-event requirement.”Validation! Insecurity!” reminded the chorus.)

Here’s a sampling of the post-event regrets. (These are for real.) We’ve cut them down and inserted our panel’s interpretation:

Excuse No. 1:
“Sorry I didn’t make it. I dropped a bottle of Italian soda on my foot last Wednesday. The bottle didn’t break, thank goodness, and my foot seemed [OK]. I took my dog for our regular two-mile stroll Thursday night. … It was all pain most of the night. I wasn’t sure I could drive all the way there and back (it would have to be my right foot). … I had picked up a caramel cheesecake made by the Cheesecake Factory and a pumpkin pie, which I ended up sharing with my coworkers this week.”

What we heard: “I make enough to afford Italian soda, and I am urbane enough to know where to buy Italian soda. I have enough time and am in good enough shape to have a dog and go for two-mile walks, and I can go at night because I can kill any attacker with a single choke hold. In case you did not realize, I am filthy rich from the Italian soda hint, I spent a ton of money on the cheesecake and pumpkin pie, though I am not sophisticated enough to know that I should not let anyone know I go to the Cheesecake Factory. And so you don’t think I’m battling an eating disorder, I want you to think I did not keep those desserts for myself though I ate every last bite.”

Excuse No. 2:
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t come since one of my cats has cancer on top of diabetes, and he hadn’t been eating well after Friday’s chemo — which can very quickly escalate to needing ER attention.”

What we heard: “I am a great humanitarian, and I am rich enough to afford to take care of a very sick cat and fund chemotherapy treatments and trips to the emergency vet (BIG bucks), if necessary. Very few people even consider chemo for animals (and not many have heard of it), but I am successful, smart, and completely selfless. My actions clearly underscore my success and vast wealth.”

Excuse No. 3:
“I am sorry I wasn’t there last weekend — as I explained …, my son … is the varsity QB for his football team, and they were in the playoffs. [They] made it to the semi-final game this past weekend, so I couldn’t attend. Unfortunately, they lost and won’t make it to the finals, but it was a great season for them.”

What we heard: “I am a success because I made my son a success. My son as varsity quarterback validates who I am. (Your son is not a varsity quarterback.) He has achieved success because of me and the sacrifices I have made. I skipped your silly brunch for him and he and everyone within a 10-mile radius knows it. You can see that I am the model mom because I am handling the game loss so well.”

Validity is such a lonely word, everyone is so untrue …

In a Nov. 15 post, we quoted a number that is being widely reported — and accepted — as the tally of homeless veterans in this country: 194,254

Not 194,255. Not 194,253, but 194,254, which made us ask: Where did they get that number?

And thus opened the Pandora’s Box of the VA.

Though we could sense the VA spokesperson man cringing on the other end of the line, he explained the number comes from nightly head counts performed at thousands of shelters. If a homeless person says he or she’s a veteran, then he or she is counted as a veteran. Reliable? Maybe not, but we were told the VA has teams that spot-check these counts. We weren’t convinced and figured, given the number of programs for the homeless (that’s another topic) and the bucks poured into them, the VA would be working with some solid data.

It appears our thinking is flawed.

It gets more interesting when we start talking dollars. In FY 2007, $266 million was spent on homeless-specific programs, while $1.5 BILLION was spent on homeless veterans’ health care.* Yeah, that’s less than $20 a vet, if the 194,254 is accurate, but that’s a chunk of change to service a group — and maybe placate well-placed do-gooders at the same time. We’d hate to speculate.

So who is a veteran? Though the shelters report anyone who answers in the affirmative, the VA only gives homeless benefits to veterans who served honorably, according to the nice spokesperson man. But get that doe-eyed first-termer with an honorable discharge out of your mind. To be considered a veteran one only needs NOT to have a dishonorable discharge. Bad conduct discharge and less than a year’s service? You may still qualify in some cases.

Call us cold, but we suggested maybe the VA should be a little more selective in doling out the bennies.

Get this. The nice spokesperson man told us not to worry and assured us there was plenty of money. When we suggested probable funding cuts, he boasted the VA’s budget was heading upward.

We don’t think he understood our point. Worse, it seems the VA might not get it either.

*The figure quoted for all veterans’ healthcare in FY 2007: $36 billion.

It seems one in every four homeless people is a military veteran, according to a recent report. That’s 25 percent, while veterans in general represent only about 11 percent of the adult population. Alliance to End Homelessness based its numbers on VA and Census Bureau data. Those are probably reliable stats. Here are the hard numbers we’ve seen based on data available for 2005: Of 744,313 homeless people in the U.S., 194,254 were veterans.

The implication from the media coverage thus far seems to be there might be a strong cause-and-effect relationship between military service and homelessness.

We’re not so sure.

Though one local VA director went on record about current operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, warning, “We’re going to be having a tsunami of them [homeless] eventually, because the mental health toll from this war is enormous,” the VA headquarters in Washington takes a more pragmatic approach, stating upfront that family background, support networks, and personality traits are better indicators of homelessness than military service.

No surprise there. The VA’s analysis makes more sense to us, and we wondered if those predisposed to homelessness might choose military service because it can offer one a haven from mainstream society.

Regardless of the reasons for homelessness, we might soon see grandstanding on this issue from veterans groups, homeless advocates, and members of Congress. How can anyone appear opposed to helping homeless vets, especially in the current climate? Facts aside, additional funds might be funneled toward this issue, which might not be the VA’s to tackle. The VA already has myriad programs addressing the needs of homeless veterans — medical and dental care, housing, counseling and training to name a few. A dedicated framework already seems to be in place if this supposed tsunami if it ever occurs.

Still, we’re not so sure of the correlation, and we say “Relax Chicken Little.”

The U.S. Naval Academy’s 74-62 victory over the University of North Texas Nov. 10 guaranteed the Midshipmen their fifth straight bowl game, we hear — and their second in three years at the Poinsettia Bowl in San Diego.

That’s great. Wow. And you’ll probably be seeing Navy again at Qualcomm Stadium in the next few years. The price of admission for the Midshipmen: a winning record. Not a great record. The number in the win column just needs to be greater than that in the loss column, and BAM, Navy is Poinsettia Bowl bound. What a deal.

It has been reported that bowl organizers struck this agreement with the team back in 2005 before the first Poinsettia Bowl, which Navy won in front of a crowd of 36,842. The next year Navy did not play, and attendance was under 30,000. (Oops!)

Coincidence? Maybe not. San Diego is akin to home-field advantage. It’s a huge Navy town home to active duty servicemembers, reservists, and retirees from the surface, subsurface, and aviation communities — and every specialty in between. So why let all those nice people down? Just guarantee Navy a spot if it has a winning record — and guarantee the team $750,000, possibly more.

We get that it’s about the business of college athletics. We also get that teams more deserving might not draw the paying fans that Navy does in San Diego. So, organizers are assured some stability, Navy is assured a bowl berth (and bucks!) if it plays over .500 ball, and San Diego is assured a home team of sorts. A winning combo!

So why do announcements by organizers and Navy seem to tout Navy’s appearance in the Poinsettia Bowl as some major feat?

It might be because they want to downplay this Faustian pact.

Once again, it’s been a nail-biter. The 2008 Defense bills are just receiving their final stamps of approval. No more pacing, wondering “Will they or won’t they?” Service chiefs and the contractors that love them are finding out what’s in and what’s OUT.

But this hardly comes through natural selection. In the competition for limited dollars (they really are limited), you have to find ways to ensure your program is funded. If you are one of the uniformed forces, you build close relationships with members of Congress and their staffs, and you inform them of your needs. That’s … informing. If you are anyone else you build close relationships with members and their staffs and inform them of your/your client’s needs. That’s … lobbying.

What’s the difference?

We don’t think there is one.

Military sources tell us there is a difference between lobbying and informing (stated like they really, really wanted us to believe them and go away quickly). When queried, former and retired-servicemembers-turned-lobbyists roll their eyes, laugh and tell us people want to believe there is a difference (because lobbying is untidy business?), but there is none. One former Marine and former House Armed Services Committee staffer said with sarcasm, “Oh yeah, they [the services] would be up there [the Hill] all the time lobbying — I mean informing — me.”

Let’s see if we have this straight: DoD’s last-minute list to lawmakers telling them of funding priorities is — informing. Top Navy officials’ calls to key lawmakers on funding for the imperiled littoral combat ship is — informing … ? Lockheed Martin’s or General Dynamics’ contacting lawmakers about LCS is … lobbying.

See the difference? We don’t either.

We sort of like how things were done decades past, as recounted in this except from an April 2, 1928, Time magazine article.

“As ambitious a bit of lobbying as was ever accomplished in Washington was effected last week by a tall, unique young man famed for his blond hair, loneliness and lack of ignoble motives. The actual lobbying, which usually consists in more or less furtive arguments by adroit advocates in the corridors and committee rooms of Congress, in this case took place at Boiling Field, far away from Capitol Hill. The lobbyist was Col. Charles Augustus Lindbergh and his sole argument was an airplane. He took several score of Congressmen up for a fly. It seemed unlikely that any of them would ever thereafter vote against any air law that may be endorsed by Lobbyist Lindbergh.

… Of the 531 members of Congress some 250 Representatives and a score of Senators flew. Observers watched to see how Congress would deal with Representative Furlow’s bill providing a separate promotion list and “just” pay for the Army Air Corps, for which Col. Lindbergh has spoken.”

Lobbyist? Informer?

Does it matter?

We at “Inside the Headquarters” need to believe some people are perfect. We know they’re not, but we need to have our secret fantasies that they are. Take astronauts, for example. They need to be perfect. It’s a rule. We don’t want their imperfections publicized. We want to believe in something bigger, and those who conquer space have long been our icons.

Some things need to remain private, but decorum and civility no longer prevail. Former astronaut Navy Capt. Lisa Nowak fell prey to the inexplicable hunger for the gruesome. (We know she brought this on herself, but we didn’t want to know.)
Nowak was arrested and charged with attempted kidnapping with intent to inflict bodily harm, battery, and burglary of a vehicle using a weapon after she drove from Houston to Orlando, Fla., to confront an apparent romantic rival. A judge (riding a white horse, wearing a white hat) has tossed the evidence seized from her car and statements she made to police. It seems police tactics were the problem. (Police. Wearing black. Guns blazing.)

Big break for Nowak, but the damage to the astronaut program has been done.
We don’t want to know about Nowak’s until-now undetected disorders. We don’t want to know the details of the sad, sad, trail from Houston to Orlando. We don’t want to see the photos. Here’s the big one: We do not want to know about an astronaut love triangle. Yuck. While we’re sure it happens, we don’t want to know about it with our astronauts (or our parents).

Nowak, who looked so frail, so small (camera angle), so human, looked nothing like an astronaut and nothing like what we want to believe. Thank you, Orlando police (wearing black hats) for shattering one of the few images sacred in our society. It was unnecessary.

Nowak, though tossed from the space program, might quietly leave the service without jail time and with a retirement.

However, astronauts will remain tarnished for a long time to come. It is an end to an era of sorts. An end to an all-too-rare innocence. The death of an icon.

In the face of significant cost overruns, the Navy has cut the mooring lines to yet another littoral combat ship (LCS) — this time General Dynamics’ (GD) LCS-4, leaving the service with one prototype each from defense behemoths GD and Lockheed Martin. Not unlike the cancellation of Lockheed’s LCS-3 in April (See Budget Breaking), the Navy also skulked out of LCS-4 for convenience because it could not reach a contract agreement with GD following — big surprise — cost overruns on LCS-2 similar to Lockheed’s experience on LCS-1. (Who’s on first?)

Trend? We think so. And it does not bode well for the Navy or the contractors who love the seafaring service.

Cost overruns with GD have been no secret according to a source close to the program, probably stemming from changes made by the client. In an earlier effort to avoid the costly penalties it incurred with the Lockheed stop-work order in January, the Navy asked GD to slow work. A source speculated at that time the Navy ultimately had its eyes another cancellation; this delicate dance with GD would cost the service little if anything.

Or so Navy officials thought.

This fiasco probably has cost the Navy — big time. Lawmakers rightfully might be reluctant to return any of the $910 million cut from the LCS program in FY 2008. (See LCS Déjà-vu) (Would you give these guys a billion dollars?) Some have publicly expressed concern about the program’s future. Worse, lawmakers might be hesitant to fund the 55 ships planned for the class and other programs to grow the fleet from its anemic 280 or so ships to a number well above 300. (Does anyone remember the 600-ship Navy?)

While it certainly will not be smooth sailing for the Navy on the Hill, it might face a second front from defense contractors. Will top-tier contractors leave themselves open for the requisite drama and carnage? (Would you?) Will the smaller guys be able to bankroll the risk?

Would you?

Navy’s 46-44 football win over Notre Dame is one of those moments best shared between fathers and children. Such a tremendous, against-the-odds victory of a relatively small, over-achiever like Navy over a force-of-nature like Notre Dame is a celebration of hope, promise, and life’s limitless possibilities — so often unspoken yet somehow understood between generations.

Vince was a gifted athlete and sports savant. He could flawlessly recite any roster and any score going back to the late 1930s — maybe earlier. Football. Baseball. Lacrosse. College. Pro. Navy. Army. Did not matter. He barely got out of high school, joined the Navy, and served in the Korean War. He was brilliant, but isn’t that often how children see their fathers?

He was extremely patriotic, and he loved the Naval Academy. Maybe it’s a Baltimore thing. He was in awe of the midshipmen and any graduate, and he and I became closer after I entered. He especially loved Academy sports and the young men who played them. We’d go to Navy lacrosse games — he’d go crazy. One year I took him and my mother (they had divorced decades earlier) to the Army-Navy game. It was the best time the three of us ever had together. When I was away, Daddy and I would talk about games via phone; they were the only thing we ever really talked about.

Naval Academy sports made him happy.

So when I reached for the phone to call him about this amazing and important victory over Notre Dame, for a moment I had completely forgotten he had now been gone almost seven years. “Inside the Headquarters” hopes you can share what we cannot.

This one’s for you, Vince.