The staff sergeant and I made small talk all the way to El Toro. It was normally a half hour drive, but the sergeant took his time, staying in the slow lane. His background was embassy duty, so he talked on and on about the different embassies and consulates he’d been attached to. In spite of my foreboding about the coming meeting with the Chief of Protocol the sergeant’s constant chatter relaxed me and entertained me, as well. Whatever the staff sergeant really was he was obviously quite good at it. I had been fit into a mold by the staff of the Western White House and I was evidently doing okay in making myself fit the shape of that mold, as I didn’t think regular employees or appointees ever got in front of someone from the White House who held ambassadorial powers, as well as being responsible for every formality required in White House Operations.

I deliberately asked no questions about anything, other than about some of the places the staff sergeant had served. There was no question in my mind, after taking in a few of his responses, that he’d actually performed in the embassy guard role.

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