Buzz's Bedtime Stories

Tonight’s episode of “Buzz’s Bedtime Stories.” Cuddle up and pour a glass of wine. (Dedicated to @Brahmslover1278) When I first arrived in the Clinton White House in the spring of 1996, I got busy immersing myself in my new experience, learning my job carrying the “nuclear football,” meeting the staff, and getting to know the Secret Service guys and girls. The first thing I immediately noticed only a few days was a young female intern who had unusual access to the Oval Office. She was actually assigned to the Old Executive Office building and not the West Wing. But her security access badge matched mine, as the carrier of the nuke football who needed access to POTUS. I asked one of my agent buddies who she was. He said, “Oh, don’t go there. That’s a close friend of the president.” That “close friend” was Monica Lewinsky. Over the next several months, I saw a lot of Monica. Not as much as Bill did, of course, but a lot. One lazy Saturday afternoon, Clinton asked me to come to the Oval and place a phone call to the president of Egypt, Hosni Mubarak. It took a while to hook up the call with the Egyptian military aide. When I finally got Mr. Mubarak on the phone, I walked into the Oval to inform the president. As I did, I walked in on Bill and Monica actually hanging out in the Oval. I knew what was going on, the staff knew what was going on, and, yes, Hillary knew what was going on. The rest of the world didn’t.  While this affair was ongoing, Paula Jones was simultaneously suing Clinton for sexual harassment years earlier in Little Rock. I attended the Jones deposition with Clinton in D.C. and, for the first time, the lawyers for Jones raised the name Monica Lewinsky in their questioning. I knew the history and my eyebrows raised. Ultimately, as a result of that deposition, Clinton agreed to a payment of $850K to Jones to make her go away.  For the first time, in addition to Jones, Clinton immediately knew he had another problem with Monica. A few weeks later, the Drudge Report would shock the world with the news about Monica and the national media immediately picked up on it. For the second time in less than a month, Bill had a huge bimbo problem.  As fate would have it, and timing is everything, the following morning, I was the first appointment on Clinton’s schedule. It was 7:00 AM and I was there to update him on our nuclear plans and answer any questions he might have. As I walked into the Oval that morning, I saw Clinton seated at his desk, his head in his hands and his eyes bloodshot. I knew it was not going to be a happy day in the White House, so I asked him if I should come back later. He said, “Yes.” As I was leaving, I turned and asked him to confirm he had the nuclear codes with him. It was standard procedure and a national security safety check. He confessed to me he’d lost them. He’d lost them. Never happened before, hasn’t happened since. As I drilled down, it turns out that, for a period of time, days, weeks, or months, who knows, Clinton didn’t have the necessary codes and didn’t tell anybody about it. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d lost them, and he didn’t care. He was a neutered president because of his affairs. He appealed to me to not let the media know. I told him I wouldn't (and I didn’t until I retired from the military and wrote “Dereliction of Duty”). When I contacted the Pentagon, they were incredulous. It had never happened before. Being the American military, they hopped to and reproduced new codes that were then required to be disseminated not only to President Clinton but also to every military nuclear arm ( missiles, submarines, and bombers). No easy task.  Initially, as you recall, Bill denied it publicly. Hillary blamed the “right-wing conspiracy.” Eventually, Clinton paid Paula Jones the $850K and found Monica a cushy job in NYC. Eventually, he’d be impeached and survive. Compare these crimes and Clinton’s malfeasance with what they accuse Trump of.