Chapter Seven

AN UNUSUAL DUTY

Undoubtedly, the happiest and the most challenging moments as a CO involve the crew.

—CO John Heckmann

THERE’S A LARGE log, about two and a half feet in diameter and five feet in length, at the fishpond in front of Aspen with a generous cutout to make it a bench. The original log-bench was placed there so FDR could sit and fish. Occasionally, wear and tear has required it to be replaced. One day as commander, I was walking around the grounds; in a reflective mood, I stopped at the pond and put my boot on the edge of the seat—and broke off a chunk of it. I froze, my boot in midair. “Oh my God,” I said, “I just broke the presidential log.” I gently picked up the piece and stuck it back in, but it no longer fit right. I decided I needed to get a new log-bench before the next presidential visit, which was no easy task. It had to be cut, had to be aged, had to look very much like the original. What a headache. I walked away worrying about how much history I’d just demolished.

At Camp David, the profound and the mundane occur on a daily basis. Every single thing that happens has tremendous significance. When you’re a member of the crew—from the commander to the freshest recruit from boot camp—you get that message pretty quick.

The most important thing to say about working at Camp David is that it’s very much a team effort. Quite simply, the Sailors and Marines at Camp David are extraordinary men and women, and every commander, including me, will tell you what an incredible honor and privilege it is to serve with these inspiring and motivated professionals. They are humble patriots, experts in their fields, and they come from across our nation, drawn by the call to duty, although the camp is certainly an unusual duty.

The NSF Thurmont command hand-selects the crew through an extremely rigorous interviewing process, background check, and security-clearance protocol to ensure that we can trust and depend on them to serve around the president. The Sailors we recruit ourselves; the Marines are handled by Marine Barracks Washington, DC, and assigned to the command. The Marine Security Company reports to NSF Thurmont, and together we operate, maintain, and guard the retreat, always ready to host the president, First Family, friends, guests, and the world’s leaders in this most unique assignment. Assigned to Camp David, we all find that it is nothing like anything we’ve experienced in our military careers. All COs value the camaraderie of the crew and their families, and most of us continue close friendships with them long after we leave camp.

Originally, during Roosevelt’s time, the only nonsecurity military crew was from the presidential yacht. It wasn’t such a heavy lift, as the camp was open only during the summer months, and no one lived on-site. Once Camp David was winterized, during Truman’s presidency, that changed, and in the early 1950s, the first Seabees were assigned to the camp. Seabees are the nation’s naval construction force; the term Seabee is derived from the abbreviation of Construction Battalion—CB. At Camp David, the Seabees maintain the cabins, roads, utility systems, grounds, and other facilities, and they represent about 60 percent of the Navy crew.

“Those also serve who operate rock quarries, build roads, construct runways and keep Camp David running,” wrote Julia Robb in the Frederick News-Post, referring to the job of a Seabee. Her article featured one Seabee in particular, Ted DePaolis, who was operations chief (in charge of maintenance) at Camp David during Nixon’s and Ford’s terms and also briefly during the Carter administration. DePaolis came to the camp after two tours in Vietnam; among other duties there, he had been in charge of setting up at a remote rock quarry near the village of Phu Loc, with Vietcong artillery attacks happening on a regular basis. Mortar fire killed six of his men. At Camp David, he was highly motivated to do a good job because he felt that the president’s well-being depended on it. “Mr. Nixon would come in looking like an old man and when he left he would be rejuvenated,” he said. Most of the Seabees I worked with felt the same way.

The balance of the enlisted Navy crew, in addition to the Seabees, are fleet Sailors: aviation boatswain’s mates, culinary specialists, damage-control men, electrician mates, enginemen, electronics technicians, hospital corpsmen, interior communications electricians, information systems technicians, logistics specialists, mass communications specialists, counselors, religious program specialists, ship’s servicemen, and yeomen. The most senior enlisted leader at camp is the command master chief (CMC), a third of what the Navy calls the leadership triad: commanding officer, executive officer, and the CMC. As I mentioned, I had the privilege of working with Kevin Timmons and George Havash, two of the eighteen CMCs who have faithfully served at camp and have been the link between the officers and the enlisted. As of this writing, Joe Maioriello fills that role, coming a long way from his fresh start in the Navy as a grounds maintenance crew member at the camp when I first reported in 1999.

The wardroom, or commissioned officers, at camp become every CO’s family. Most of the officers are from the Navy’s Civil Engineer Corps (CEC), and in 1963 CO Chuck Howe was the first such officer as the camp commander. The CEC officers include the CO, XO, public works officer, assistant public works officer, and the readiness and electronics security officer. In addition, there is a supply officer from the Supply Corps and a chaplain from the Chaplain Corps. The Marine Security Company CO and XO were also in the wardroom, as were the officer in charge of the WHCA unit and the Civil Engineer Corps contracts officer from WHMO who worked at camp and resided in Foxville Gardens.

Beyond the traditional command wardroom, I was also a member of a more ad hoc WHMO wardroom; this included those who traveled with the president whenever he visited Camp David. This was another opportunity to roll out the welcome mat for my fellow servicemen and servicewomen.

Michele and I occasionally invited people for hors d’oeuvres and dinner at Cedar, and sometimes we’d host a dinner in Holly or have folks over for dessert and games. Because most military personnel can connect almost immediately anywhere in the world, this felt like home for many of us, and I found it made life a little more normal. I know that many other COs have continued the tradition.

Being assigned to Camp David was a great entry on crew members’ military records for promotion, but it also opened up other professional opportunities, ones that were often quite unique. Naval recruitment literature, seeking the best and the brightest, offers a tantalizing list of possibilities; for example, if you’re assigned to Camp David, you might have the opportunity to attend the Starkey Culinary Arts School at Fort Lee. Additionally, there are various in-camp training opportunities with the Naval Supply System Command corporate chef and master chefs from the Culinary Institute of America.

Thus trained, the culinary staff is top notch, and some presidents use the camp staff instead of bringing their own chefs—the highest form of praise. Many of these cooks are young enlisted men and women, but they quickly become sensitive to the likes and dislikes of their presidential guests. George and Laura Bush were always thrilled when the culinary staff surprised them by shipping in some enchiladas from Texas and their favorite Blue Bell ice cream. “These were young kids just out of cooking school, with amazing talent, and they had the instincts to bring a little bit of home to the First Family,” said CO Bob McLean.

Logistics specialists and ship’s servicemen are other positions at Camp David. They are responsible for a multitude of operations, including the management of a multimillion-dollar budget, warehousing, and contracting. They also serve as managers at Hickory during presidential visits, supervising the lounge, game room, and Shangri-La bar. Working with these crew members, other crew personnel operate and maintain the theater, bowling alley, horseshoe pits, driving range, putting green, bicycles, and trails and provide an assortment of recreational gear. The Marines operate and maintain the Wye Oak fitness center, the Leatherwood basketball court, the staff swimming pool, and the skeet and archery ranges.

Although the president’s private physician and nurse accompany him to Camp David, there is also a medical dispensary in Eucalyptus managed by our hospital corpsmen to handle the everyday needs of the crew.

A newer unit under WHMO, the Joint Presidential Weather Support Unit, serves as the weather forecaster for the retreat. Weather is always an issue at Camp David. CO Berry recalled that when the Reagans were at camp, every Saturday night after the movie, Mrs. Reagan would ask what came to be known as the W question—weather. “Commander,” she would say nervously, “what’s the weather going to be like Sunday?” Berry said everyone knew that Mrs. Reagan was a bit nervous about helicopter flying, so no one wanted to respond to her question; they all kind of stepped back and left Colonel Mike Glynn, CO of the presidential helicopter squadron, to answer. “Mrs. Reagan,” he usually said, “it looks like a beautiful day for flying.” If the forecast changed, he’d deal with that the next day, but for the time being she could get a good night’s sleep. But he, like other commanders, felt some pressure to get the weather right. Problem was, the wind could change at any time. So the best answer to the weather question was always “Wonderful” until nature proved otherwise.

Weather wasn’t just a flight issue. As previously noted, it could play havoc with the mission of keeping things pristine. Remembering my own battles with snow, I was sympathetic to Russ Rang’s description of “hiding” the snow after a massive storm during his first winter at the camp. The snow-removal crew trucked the heavy snow to the camp’s industrial area, where it rose three stories high—out of public view. This solution did have one advantage: Rang’s kids immediately ran down to the snowbank to build forts and play king of the mountain.

Although not a department of Camp David, a fellow WHMO unit that resides in camp is the White House Communications Agency. Every CO works on welcoming and including the WHCA personnel and their families, as we all support the same mission.

Arguably the most important job at Camp David is security. Before 1957, the Marine security came and went with the president, but in 1957, the first full-time Marine detachment arrived at the camp. The Marine Security Company, assigned from Marine Barracks Washington, DC, was typically commanded by a Marine Corps major or captain, with a captain XO, first sergeant, and two gunnery sergeants. The bulk of the company was composed of first-tour, brand-new Marine Corps lance corporals in their first assignment, which was far from the traditional Marine Corps duty they had enlisted for.

Guard duty can be lonely and cold in the winter. On the 8th & I reunion site, there are stories from Marines who served on these posts back in the day. According to Ed Crogan, who was sergeant of the guard in the 1950s, the gate sentries tamed a skunk by feeding him rations. One night a new sentry was on duty, and he’d not been informed about the sentries’ “pet.” He called Crogan at midnight to report, hysterically, that a skunk was trying to get into the gate shack. The sentry screamed to Crogan that he was going to shoot the skunk. Crogan warned him to do no such thing and said he was on his way. “I jumped in the guard jeep and broke the speed limit on the short drive to the gate,” Crogan recalled. “As I screeched to a halt and hastily disembarked, I saw one of those scenes that make you wish for a camera. The sentry, who shall remain anonymous in defense of his dignity, was perched, standing straddled, atop the small desk with one foot on the windowsill and the other on the edge of the desk. He was in the firing position with a forty-five clutched in both hands and aiming at the poor confused skunk sniffing at the door, who was only looking for his accustomed night rations.”

After giving the skunk a bologna sandwich and the sentry a firm talking-to, Crogan went back to bed. The incident was never recorded in the log.

In May 1989, Camp David had a literal gate-crasher. According to CO Berry, a woman who lived down the road wasn’t always in her right mind, and occasionally, she would walk barefoot to the main gate and take her blouse off in front of the Marines. One night she drove her car right into the gate as fast as she could. Naturally, Berry worried that the camp was under attack, but the gate was barely damaged, and they instantly recognized the gate-crasher. Berry sent corpsmen down to administer first aid and called for an ambulance from town. The story made it into the press, and the deputy White House press secretary B. Jay Cooper reported, “The heavily reinforced vehicle gate was not damaged. The auto, a 1989 Fiero, was extensively damaged and the driver was injured.” That’s the last time this particular strange visitor was seen at Camp David.

There are separate barracks at the camp for single male and single female crew members. The married families, with the exception of the commander’s family, live down the hill, some at Foxville Gardens, now privatized military housing, and most others in communities in southern Pennsylvania and northern Maryland. Foxville Gardens is a beautiful complex with nice houses and a park and playground for the children. During our time at camp, Foxville Gardens was not privatized, and we, like most other naval commands, managed the housing assignments, maintenance, and services. Families wanted to live there; the sense of community, the support, and the friendships were incredible. That’s why Michele frequently took the girls there just to hang out, so they’d have normal playmates in a normal setting and she would have other spouses to talk with. Michele often joked that she lived out of her car. It’s a common need and tendency when you live alone.

To work at Camp David is to learn the art of doing the impossible. CO Berry recounted an incident early in his tour that occurred while the Reagans were vacationing in California. With the president safely elsewhere, it was time to do some serious upkeep, including a major fence relocation. Unfortunately, while drilling for a fence post, one of the crew hit the camp’s main power line. The damage was assessed, and the crew consulted with the power company, and it estimated that it would take several weeks to get full power restored. Berry started to worry. The Reagans were scheduled for a visit over Labor Day weekend, just two weeks away. Berry’s boss, WHMO director Jim McKinney, was with the president in California; Berry advised him of the situation and said, “We may not be ready for Labor Day.”

“Oh yes, you will,” McKinney stated emphatically.

Berry replied, “Yes, we will.” And they were. “I learned we could move mountains up there,” he said.

“Should I call the White House and tell them not to come?” I asked.

“Sir, I know we can do this,” Wishart said.

I hesitated. The implications if we couldn’t fix it were grave. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“I know we can do this,” she repeated forcefully.

“Okay,” I said, and left her to it.

By seven a.m. the situation was under control, and all that remained was to place new asphalt, despite the cold temperatures, and, of course, do the cleanup, which in part involved bringing in snow to cover up the site. She was surprised when two chiefs came by and invited her to have breakfast in the chief mess, which was considered a high honor. She was pleased and flattered, thinking they wanted to acknowledge her hard work. But in truth, they just didn’t want the crew to see her. “I was a hot mess,” she said.

An addendum: Wishart left the Navy after her Camp David service, but she returned to camp with her husband and three children in 2016 at the invitation of Command Master Chief Joe Maioriello. “My family was excited to see the historic places at the camp,” she said. “I was excited to see the site of the water-main break and the pool, which was now enclosed.”

CO Heckmann supervised the renovations of some of the cabins during his time at the camp, fixing the exteriors and updating the interiors from their vintage 1980s style. Laura Bush was closely involved in the finish work and used a consultant to help her find just the right antiques and artifacts to create a lovely look without compromising the essential rustic feel. There were also upgrades at Aspen, including a new HVAC system for temperature control, the installation of which was a difficult task. Shades of LBJ—it was a process of trial and error. “He liked it cool; she liked it warm,” Heckmann said of the Bushes, describing a classic clash that most married couples will find familiar. But he finally taught the Bushes how to control the system—and then left them to debate the ideal temperature between themselves.

Like Reagan, Bush 43 was at the camp so frequently that the crew was at the top of their game. However, getting the big jobs done—such as one project to repave all the roads—was a challenge. Those tasks had to wait for times when the Bushes were in Crawford.

After a visit to Idaho, Bush got hooked on riding a bike on single-track trails, and he asked Heckmann if the crew could create some at the camp. Not knowing much about single-track trails, Heckmann initially “made the mistake” of asking the Secret Service for advice. They favored nice, wide trails with lots of room for security vehicles; a single-track trail was just the opposite, a narrow path that was no wider than a bike’s tires. The president won that battle. Heckmann gathered a few Seabees, Marines, and tools and proceeded to blaze some new trails for the president. Since the Secret Service could not easily follow in a vehicle, some of the agents had to get up to speed and bike along. Marines joined them to help with straggling guests once they were deemed fit enough to bike with the president without embarrassing the camp. This was serious business in Bush’s “survival of the fittest” mode. “To see our riders congratulated by the president at the end of the ride while splattered with mud was inspiring,” Heckmann said, remembering his pride.

WHILE I WAS commander, a typical day in the life of the camp began with a seven-thirty staff meeting at Poplar, the command office. On Mondays we’d plan what was going on that week. If there was a visit scheduled, we’d have a kickoff meeting where everyone was represented—the communications team, the Marines, and all the department heads. That’s where we would share information on who was scheduled to come. Sometimes the social secretary didn’t have the specifics, and it was frustrating not to know who we were preparing for, how many cabins were needed, how many guests we’d have, how much food was required. It was on my head to figure it out. Visit prep means checking and double-checking that everything is running—making sure the bikes are good, the water fountains are working, the tennis courts are clean, and all those types of things. That’s where the senior leadership of the camp has to learn the delicate art and skill of effective delegation and management. You want everything to be perfect but natural. And you rely on the crew to do all of this, although as the commander, you feel the heat when it’s not perfect and you get the praise when it is. If the bed corner is not flush or someone drove over the flowers and they have to be replaced, it’s harrowing. Be accountable; take the hit or pass on the praise—that was another critical part of leadership COs learned in this high-risk, high-yield mountaintop environment.

One of the perks of serving as the CO at Camp David during my time was that I was given a visitor’s pass to the White House that did not require me to have an escort. The pass could get me into most of the common areas, but not the residence (for that, I had to be escorted). Because of the pass I could visit the grounds superintendent, Dale Haney; the florist; the ushers’ office—Gary Walters was head usher at that time—and other staff that the camp shared a common work bond with. In the White House, I met ushers, Navy valets, Sailors, and others who supported the First Family behind the scenes, much as we did at Camp David.

Occasionally, I would invite the groundskeeper, the florist, and the chefs to Camp David to observe and advise us. For dinners with heads of state at Camp David, the White House chefs and butlers were sometimes sent to camp to preside over the event, which made total sense to me, and we worked well together.

There was definitely a sense that we were all on the same team—supporting the president. Early in my time at Camp David, Gary Walters invited me to the White House so we could share thoughts and insights, and he very graciously gave me a personal tour that included the residence upstairs, the only time I ever saw the space. It was intriguing to see where the Clintons watched TV, worked puzzles (the Clintons loved puzzles), got snacks from the kitchen, and slept. Almost like a regular family. Almost.

Haney, the grounds superintendent, was particularly warm and friendly, and we would share stories about flower-bed care, golf-green maintenance, and the presidential dogs, which he and his staff, like the crew at Camp David, would sometimes take for walks or keep company.

I always felt the two staffs had much in common, and yet the nature of our encounters with the First Family were markedly different. The White House staff lived the daily grind of the presidency, while at Camp David we usually saw them in a more relaxed mood. However, we all felt that same constant pressure and sense of responsibility.

It was the norm to have periodic WHMO commanders’ meetings at the White House. During President Bush’s administration, those meetings were monthly. Coordination with the other WHMO units was an important part of my job. Camp David personnel never traveled with the president, and because these trips were when most of the WHMO units and personnel really bonded, I felt I had to work a bit harder to forge and maintain relationships with them whenever I had the opportunity. Once a month, I would get to check in with my boss—the director of WHMO—the deputy director, and the other WHMO units, such as HMX-1, the Presidential Airlift Group (which includes Air Force One), the White House Communications Agency, the White House Transportation Agency, the White House Medical Unit, the Presidential Food Service, and other offices. The military aides were not an official WHMO unit, but they were great to see and talk with. During the time that I served under President Clinton and President Bush, each had five military aides from the U.S. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard. During any visit to Camp David, one military aide would always be with the president, and he served as my primary link for information on how the president was feeling that day, what mood he was in, and what he might want, or not want, to do. Together, the military aide and the First Lady’s social secretary gave me the best view of how a visit was going to go.

People have often asked me if it takes a special kind of person to be a Camp David commander. Part of the vetting to be the commander has to do with temperament. I think a balanced, nonideological personality helps, as does a strong respect for the crew and its mission. One of my key principles of leadership, which served me well at the camp and that I use to this day, is the importance of going behind the scenes and experiencing what the crew experiences. It’s a form of empathy, I suppose, and it’s the best way to understand the challenges on the ground. It’s also great for employee morale.

On occasion at the camp I did a routine similar to the show Undercover Boss, though obviously without the secrecy. I really wanted to understand what my crew dealt with during a normal week. I would spend a whole day with grounds maintenance weed-whacking the hill known as Big Bertha and working flower beds. I’d spend a day with the Marines walking the patrol. I’d spend a day in the galley cooking meals and serving them to the crew. I’d spend a day at guest ops cleaning cabins and making beds. I’d spend a day cleaning out the shredder and doing all those other behind-the-scenes tasks. It gave me some perspective on why it sucks to weed-whack that big hill, why you need a CamelBak of water and new boots and a lot of thread to run the machine. I saw firsthand what my people dealt with day in and day out. I heartily recommend the exercise. If you do it genuinely, it builds respect; the crew members will think, Hey, the CO’s out here weed-whacking with me, and he’s not here just for a photo op, he’s here all day. I enjoyed walking in their shoes. I was always very much out and about. Sometimes I would catch things that needed to be fixed, but that wasn’t really my job. My job was to inspire, support, and motivate the crew in a genuine, caring way. They were giving it their all, and I was right there with them.

CO Joe Camp shared those leadership principles when he was at Camp David. “I’m a people person, as comfortable out of uniform as in uniform,” he said. “Biggest thing I still practice: Never have the troops do anything I wouldn’t do. Walk the walk as well as talk the talk.” Or as CO Russ Rang used to tell his crew, “Give me the dirtiest job.” They would reply, “Yes, sir, go over to Big Bertha and whack weeds for four hours.”

CO Camp learned right away that he was in the presence of excellence when he came on board. “These were the best troops I’d ever worked with. It was sometimes tough to stand in front of them as their leader.” One day a female yeoman first class was in his office for a discussion. Just after she left, he remembered something else he wanted to tell her and he called her desk phone, thinking he’d leave a message. She answered the phone—already back at her desk. “How did you get back there so fast?” he asked in surprise.

“Sir,” she replied, “I’m a happening unit.”

“The biggest difference at Camp David is the level of detail,” said CO Berry. “Everybody is looking at every small detail. It’s a quality crew, self-motivated, smart, extremely responsive.” Sometimes to an extreme. President Bush 41 once grumbled to Berry, “Everybody wants to please us so much. If I ask for a rowboat, don’t give me an aircraft carrier.”

CO Autry acknowledged the stress of a visit, where everyone is supremely focused on one person—the president. But he abided by the same philosophy I had: “Let your people do what they’re there to do.” Much as I had learned on my first day in command.

On occasion, though, there is the opportunity for training, especially for the younger members of the crew. CO Berry recalled an incident during a picnic at Camp David when a very large group was invited. There weren’t enough golf carts for the guests that day, so when General Colin Powell asked where his golf cart was, the lieutenant on duty had to tell him that the guests were not being offered carts. “What about that cart right there?” the general asked. “That’s my cart, sir,” the lieutenant replied. Hearing about the incident later, the wardroom gave the lieutenant an “award” for refusing to give a four-star general his golf cart.

At Camp David you never know when something new will be expected of you. In January 2007, CO Heckmann was outside Hickory shoveling snow when President Bush stopped by to practice his State of the Union speech. He asked Heckmann to come inside and listen so he’d have an audience. Heckmann went in with the president, but since snow was continuing to fall outside, he was distracted by the noise from the snow-removal crews. He was so worried that the loud sounds would disrupt the president’s rhythm that he barely paid attention to what he was saying. To his chagrin, at the end, the president asked him what he thought about the speech, and he felt silly for not listening more attentively.

The camp crew must be prepared for any eventuality. Heckmann remembered a time when President Bush was scheduled to take a short trip from the camp to make some remarks at an event. He’d invited a camp guest to accompany him. At the last minute, the guest realized he didn’t have a dress shirt on hand, and he asked the guest steward if he could help. The steward reached out to the supply officer, who began frantically looking for a shirt the man could borrow. Heckmann, waiting at the landing zone, heard about the urgent need and sent word to his wife to find one of his shirts to loan the guest. When the guest finally arrived for the flight, he looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. Heckmann assumed it was because he was late—but it was really because the sleeves on his dress shirt were way too short.

Also in the context of unusual duty, during the 2012 presidential campaign, the Camp David hangar was taken over for prep for the third and final presidential debate, on foreign policy. With Senator John Kerry (who would become secretary of state in Obama’s second term) playing the role of Romney, Obama hunkered down in the hangar for Debate Camp.

As I said before, there is a fair amount of downtime at Camp David—by which I mean days when the president isn’t there. While the maintenance load is great, every commander steps up during those occasions to hone the skills of the crew. During my years there, we’d have well-choreographed practice visits where people dressed up as the president and First Lady and the crew went through the entire visit, start to finish, just to stay sharp. Of course, nothing beats the real thing.

I had a particularly trying spell during President Clinton’s last year when we had five months between visits. Sure, we did a lot of training and maintenance, had a lot of sports competitions, and took a few professional field trips, but it doesn’t take too long for the leadership challenges to rise. We all want to do our mission—that’s what the Sailors and Marines come to camp for—and when you hit these gaps, it can be taxing. The COs during the Reagan, Bush 41, and Bush 43 presidencies never caught much of a rest, but many other COs have had to deal with these long absences.

I can tell you that from the first visit of President Bush, in February 2001, and for the next eight years, the COs and crews had no time for sports competitions and extracurriculars. The mission went high and right, and while that’s what we love, it too has its challenges. Some of the crew caught in the transition from Clinton to Bush had some trouble adjusting to more frequent visits.

So what does the CO do when there’s downtime? In addition to the assorted activities, you pretty much have to keep talking with your crew, reminding them why we all serve and that our job is to always be ready. Sometimes you just have to hunker down, suck it up, and be strong. During those times I told the crew, “Our fellow Sailors and Marines are doing hard things in hard places around the world, and while many of you may want to be with them, our place is here and now. This is our mission.”

When Chuck Howe was CO, during the Kennedy and then the Johnson years, he had forty-nine enlisted Navy people, representing all different trades, on the crew. He had a White House communications group that ran the switchboard, and that was probably a dozen people. Then he had a platoon of Marines that rotated through the camp; today it’s a company. On an off-visit night, Howe decided to test their readiness. He went down to the hangar, took out a barrel, put some paper in it, and set it on fire. Then he put in the call that there was a fire in the hangar.

Next thing he saw was the big fire truck chugging up through the cold winter night. It had a bunch of Sailors on it, but they were hanging from the vehicle. The truck came rumbling through the forest down to the field, and he was concerned that somebody was going to get killed. So soon after, he went to the military command and asked to shore up the emergency services. There needed to be at least one person who was an aviation-crash-rescue expert, in case of a helicopter accident. And the Sailors needed firefighting training. This was done.

During my time, all crew members took firefighting training when they came aboard. Today, the camp has modernized the facilities and the personnel, and while it still conducts training for the crew, there is a permanent civilian fire chief from the Federal Fire Service.

As we’ve seen, every commander brings his or her special background, personality, and family configuration to the camp. Traditions get broken as times change. For example, it is the traditional role of the commander’s spouse to provide a support system for the crew spouses, which my wife did. In addition, your spouse can be your eyes and ears with the crew and families, often seeing and hearing things that a CO might not catch or be exposed to. When Wendy Halsey was commander, that role changed a bit. Her husband, Mark, didn’t attend spouses’ meetings, but he did coach the Army-Navy softball team. It took a little getting used to for some people. Once, when the Halseys came into camp, the guard at the gate said, “Welcome back to camp, sir,” assuming Mark was the commander. Wendy Halsey laughed about it. They’d know soon enough!

She actually found her dual roles as mom and commander easier at Camp David than elsewhere. Work-life balance was smoother because she was always close at hand and had dinner at home every night. Joe Camp had the same experience. “When the leaves fell, I could wave at my wife from my office,” he said.

Camp described his selection as Camp David commander as an example of “hard work meets opportunity. You don’t ask for the job. They ask you.” He kiddingly told people, “Commander Camp is going to be camp commander.”

Reflecting on the experience, he said, “I gained a lot of self-confidence. If I could survive working for the president and not get fired, I must be doing something right.” He also felt a certain awe. “It’s corny, but real—me, a boy from the cornfields of Ohio, working for the president of the United States. During one visit, President Bush called me on the phone. ‘This is George,’ he said. I jumped up and stood at attention for the length of the call.”

As a young boy in western Pennsylvania, I got into a fistfight with one of my best friends because he taunted me that I could never be the president since I was born overseas. Well, I can’t and won’t be president, but I got about as close to the president as possible. It was special. But CO Heckmann said it best: “The president made being at camp special,” he observed. “But the crew made it a fulfilling experience every day.”