Operations

 

Our friends Carlton “Chip” Smith and Karen Jones (See “Windy City Gambit”) have abandoned their travel coordination venture and joined the Department of Homeland Security as public relations consultants. Their current assignment: create new “operation” names for future DHS enforcement actions. They are waiting nervously in a conference room, expecting border czar Tom Homan to arrive at any moment. The door swings open and Homan and his entourage—six very large men wearing dark suits and red ties, earpieces firmly in place—enter the room.

“Chip, Karen, good to see you again,” Homan says. “Okay, you know your assignment. We need names for future operations, now that we are wrapping things up in Minnesota. ‘Operation Midway Blitz’ worked well in Chicago, and ‘Operation Metro Surge’ was okay for Minneapolis, but the president’s favorite so far was ‘Operation Catch of the Day’ up in Portland, Maine.” Homan chuckles. “He really liked the whimsy, the regional reference, all that. So, let’s hear what you have for me on our list of blue cities. Let’s start with Detroit.”

“Yes, sir,” Karen replies. “How about ‘Operation Motown Beat.’”

Homan writes it down. “Hmm… I like it! A nice, strong verb. We could say beatdown, but beat is more subtle. What about Philadelphia?”

Chip jumps in. “We’re thinking ‘Operation Brotherly Shove.’”

“That’s good. Invokes brotherly love and Eagles football. Let's go to Milwaukee. What have you got?

"We're thinking 'Operation Miller Time,''' Karen says.

Homan breaks up laughing. "Oh my goodness! Stephen will love it." He recovers his composure. "Now, what if we have to go up north to Boston, bother Bean Town a little? Whataya have for me?”

“We like ‘Operation You've Been Scrod,’” Chip says.

“Scrod?” Homan looks puzzled. “Is that past-perfect for—"

“No, sir. It’s a popular seafood dish in Boston.”

“Oh, okay…I like it,” Homan says. “Nice double enten… uh double—”

“Double meaning, sir. That’s what we were shooting for.” Karen smiles.

“Let’s go out west. What about those bastards up in Washington state?” Homan is leaning into the discussion. “Let’s try Seattle.”

“Here’s one with local culture,” Chip says. ‘Operation Tall Grande Venti.’”

Homan pulls on his chin. “Okay…that’s not bad. Do you have an alternative?”

“Well,” Chip says, “there’s ‘Operation Seattle Slew.’”

“What?” Homan is confused. “I don’t get it.”

“Seattle Slew was a beloved racehorse, a Triple Crown winner in 1977.”

“Nah, find something else. The president isn’t a big racing fan. Let’s move down the coast to Portland, Oregon. You know we’ve had operations there, but never a catchy name. What do you have?”

“We have ‘Operation Ducks on the Pond.’ You know, Ducks, for the University of Oregon?” Karen waits anxiously.

“Hmmm… too bland,” Homan says. “Make it ‘Operation Sitting Ducks.’”

The large men, standing at ease around the room, nod and murmur approval.

“Moving right along…” Homan is growing impatient. “What do you have for that hell hole, Oakland, down in California?”

Chip hesitates. He’s not confident about this one. “We have ‘Operation No There There.’”

“What the Sam Hill—” Homan looks annoyed.

“Sir, Gertrude Stein once said about Oakland, ‘There is no there there.’”

“Okay, ditch the literary references. You know the president doesn’t read.” Suddenly, Homan’s eyes widen. “I’ve got it! We’ll call it ‘Operation East Bay Tide.’ That could take in Richmond, San Pablo, Berkeley, Emeryville, Oakland, and as far south as you want to go.”

His entourage erupts with words of praise.

“Well played, sir!”

“Outstanding!”

“Brilliant, chief!”

 Homan checks his watch. “I’ve gotta go…another meeting I can’t miss. Chip, Karen, you’ve made a start here but keep at it! The president wants our officers in every blue city before the midterms.”

He rises, his entourage with him. Someone opens the door and they file out. Homan calls over his shoulder as he exits, “Don’t forget Baltimore, Atlanta, and San Francisco. And we may have to surge Los Angeles again. Peddle to the medal, you two!”

The door slams shut.

Karen glares at Chip. “Operation Seattle Slew? Where did you pull that one from?”

“Hey, I was on the spot, and besides, slew is a darn good verb.” Chip throws up his hands. “And you’re the one who came up with Operation No There There.”

“Okay, okay, I’m just sayin’. We can’t afford to lose this gig. Let’s get to work. What do you have for Baltimore?”

“It’s gonna be a long night,” Chip says. “Let’s get some food and coffee in here. How ’bout something from Cava?”

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 Forty-seven Day Wonders

 

[Scene: A small gymnasium somewhere in St. Paul, MN. Captain Justice Hardon addresses a group of ICE trainees as they approach the end of their forty-seven days of training.]

Hardon: All right, listen up. We’re approaching the end of your training program, but you’re not there yet. You need to master two final skills—the five-man DT takedown and the side window breakout. This morning, we are going to focus on the takedown. [A trainee raises his hand.] Yes, trainee Schmuckly, what is it?

Schmuckly: Sir, what is a DT?

Hardon: Domestic Terrorist, Schmuckly. Pay attention, dammit! … Okay, Lieutenant Kickintush, bring in the “volunteers.”

[Lt. Kickintush leads six men into the gym. They are dressed in heavy parkas and winter gear and can be heard speaking to one another in Spanish. One of the volunteers is thrust into the center of the floor. He is quickly surrounded by five veteran ICE officers who slam him to the floor, pin him face-down with a knee in the back, and slap on handcuffs.]

Volunteer [screaming]: Aieee! ¡Madre de Dios!

Lt. Kickintush [holding a stopwatch]: Not bad. Twenty-five seconds. Attention trainees! Did you all see the trip-and-throw technique? And the five-man-pounce with knee-in-the-back? Master those techniques if you want to claim your fifty-thousand-dollar bonus.

Trainees: Sir! Yes Sir!

Lt. Kickintush: Okay, divide into groups of five. You’ll each get your turn with a volunteer DT. You must—I repeat, must—pass this test to complete Day 47.

[Trainee Schmuckly raises his hand again.]

Capt. Hardon: What is it, Schmuckly?

Schmuckly: Sir, why is it necessary for five officers to slam the DT on the ground? I mean, my old man says that back in the 60’s, one officer could throw a guy up against a building and shout, “Up against the wall, motherf—ker,” then cuff him one arm at a time. Just one officer. Seems like a waste to use five guys.

Capt. Hardon: It’s not the sixties anymore, Schmuckly. The people need to be shown who is in charge. Got it?

Schmuckly: Uh…okay.

Hardon: Say what?!

Schmuckly: Sir! Yes Sir!

[The session continues, each group of trainees getting a chance to slam a volunteer to the floor and cuff him, accompanied by screams and cries for mercy. Lt. Kickintush records a score for each trainee. The session ends and the volunteers are carried away on stretchers to waiting ambulances…  Capt. Hardon addresses the group.]

Hardon: Okay, men, good work. There is a bus waiting outside to take you to the Metropolitan Junk Yard for window breakout training. Let’s go…on the double!

[Scene: The parking lot of the Metropolitan Junk Yard. Inside the chain-link fence, hundreds of wrecked cars wait to be sent to the enormous crusher, the next step on the journey to reclaiming the scrap metal…  Once again, Capt. Hardon addresses the trainees.]

Hardon: This afternoon, we are going to work on your window breakout technique. You will learn to shatter driver-side and/or passenger-side windows, using your metal batons, with no more than three blows. All those junk cars have windows waiting for you. And remember, this is the final step in your training. If you can’t accomplish a complete breakout in three blows, you will be sent back to Day 40 to repeat your training—flash-bang deployment, teargas canister bowling, pepper ball marksmanship, and so forth. Understood? [Again, a trainee raises his hand.] Yes, Schmuckly, what is it now?

Schmuckly: Sir, a question about policy. Should we break out a window, with all the flying glass, if there is a child inside the vehicle?

Hardon: Read the policy, Schmuckly! Of course, you break out the window if a child is inside. ESPECIALLY if there is a child inside. What part of the policy do you not understand?

Schmuckly: I don’t know, sir. It just seems dangerous. I thought we were deploying a “slightly lighter hand.”

Hardon: Okay, I’ve heard enough of this guy. Kickintush, get him out of here.

[Kickintush gives a signal and five veteran officers surround Schmuckly. He is thrown to the pavement, face down, knee in the back. The cuffs are slapped on and he is carried away.]

Schmuckly [crying frantically]: Wait! Stop! I take it all back! I’ll break every window I see…kid or no kiiiiid… [His voice fades as he is thrown into the back of an unmarked SUV.]

Hardon: Any more questions? … I didn’t think so. All right, let’s get into that junk yard and break some F-ing glass!

[And thus, a new class of Forty-seven Day Wonders is readied for “The Streets of Minneapolis.”]

_____