The Foreign Service Journal, June 2005

at the same tree where the monkeys howled down at them. Several soldiers surrounded the Landcruiser, pointing their guns at the windows. “Miles,” the ambas- sador said evenly. “Announcement, please: a special vis- itor for Sir Kung Fu Man.” The ambassador led the way down the dark halls to the reception room. Commander Karate Man, backed by several armed accomplices, stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips. “Miles, introductions for our visi- tor: Colonel Scout.” Commander Karate Man took off his sunglasses to get a better look at the extraordinary visitor. Wally salut- ed and stood at attention. His uniform, a joint effort by the embassy staff, was suitably military-looking. It had an American flag and a unit number on the sleeves, and awards sewn on the pockets. One read: “Be Prepared,” another featured a canoe with the motto “Safety First,” and another, a Webelos insignia. He wore an oversize fez with an impressive sword and moon insignia on the front, tipped to the side at a rakish angle with the long red tassel thrown jauntily over one shoulder. On his belt was a radio and on his back a pack. Miles translated for the uneasy commander. “He wants to know how this soldier got here when the bor- ders are closed.” “Special commando — a Tenderfoot,” the ambas- sador responded. “Col. Scout here just a representative — part of an elite intervention team. Tenderfeet now all over the country. Feet? Foots? Anyway, regular jam- boree.” Miles translated to the skeptical soldiers. “Radio, Walter.” Wally took the radio from his belt and spoke into it. “Swing your partner.” “Bow to your partner, now to your corner,” came Lloyd’s clipped reply. Ardela’s voice came in with the fainter sound of a distant unit, echoing as if spoken into a jar. “Right and left through, right pull by, a country turn.” “Allemande left,” Wally radioed back. He left the radio on and the banter continued in Lloyd’s square-dance caller cadence. “Flutter wheel, men are in the lead.” “Triple scoot — rooty-toot-toot.” “Spin chain the gears.” Karate Man whispered to the other soldiers, who ner- vously repeated the cryptic phrases from the radio. The ambassador shrugged dramatically. “Military banter, beyond my clearance. Situation clear, though: a call to your troops and back to barracks, then nobody hurt.” Wally stepped forward and handed the radio to Commander Karate Man. He looked at the squawking radio, hesitating. The ambassador leaned forward. “One other noteworthy thing: Colonel Scout’s force each a team of two. Walter?” Wally took off his backpack, set it gently on the ground and pulled out Mr. Jitters, who wore a small fez resembling Wally’s. The soldiers stepped back and aimed their weapons at the monkey, who squealed and clung to Wally’s leg. Wally pulled him gently away, and whispered: “Do your happy dance!” Mr. Jitters quivered and staggered, and for a moment it looked like he might have one of his spells. Wally whispered encouragement, and Mr. Jitters straightened up, stood on his hind legs and did a nervous dance in a circle, clapping his small hands. “He’s a trained profes- sional,” Wally said as Mr. Jitters jumped into his arms after the dance. He stepped close to Commander Karate Man, who kept his eyes on the monkey. “Don’t make this uglier than it has to be. Call your men and tell them to give up and go back to the barracks.” Mr. Jitters howled and relieved himself on Wally’s arm. I t was the best time of day. The ambassador was serv- ing. He raised his racket, half expecting to hear the boom of a cannon. But this time there was nothing and his ball flew over the net to Miles, whose return bounced in the dust outside the line. “Nice shot, sir. That’s game.” “Well played, Miles. Not time for another game?” The ambassador wiped away his sweat and looked at his watch. “What kind of day?” “I’ll say — last time I had a day like that was back in Paraguay and I woke up with this tattoo of Yosemite Sam. Strange thing is I don’t really even like Yosemite Sam. Now, Elmer Fudd on the other hand …” “I meant today, Miles. Busy day ahead?” “Amb. Broussard’s office called and they want to come over and talk about a joint statement condemning the coup and our efforts to restore democracy. Then this afternoon there’s the ceremony for President Kotazo to present you with the Order of the Golden Ferret.” “Ah, yes,” said Amb. Vodel, his sweaty glasses sparkling in the hazy sunshine. “And tonight: Piction- ary.” n F O C U S J U N E 2 0 0 5 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 41