An American Tune: A Novel

9 “Ohio”

98 “Ohio” “Good evening my fellow Americans,” President Nixon began. “‘Good evening my fellow Americans,’” Bridget mimicked. “Fucker. I swear to God, the very sound of his voice makes me insane.” “Would you just listen,” Tom said. She rolled her eyes at him. Janeconcentratedonthescreen:thePresidentinadarksuit,reading from the pages of the speech he held in his hands. “Ten days ago, in my report to the Nation on Vietnam, I announced a decision to withdraw an additional 150,000 Americans from Vietnam over the next year. I said then that I was making that decision despite our concern over increased enemy activity in Laos, Cambodia, and in South Vietnam . . .” “Meanwhile, bombing the shit out of them,” Bridget said. “Like we don’t know about their so-called secret bombing there.” Tom turned up the television to drown out her muttered commentary as the speech proceeded, though Jane could hear it anyway. “Look at him,” she said when Nixon rose and, with a pointer, delineated areas of troop build-up along the border between Vietnam andCambodiaonahugemapbesidehim.“Jesus.He’sgotvisualaids. What? Is he going for the ‘I am your trusted social studies teacher’ effect?” 9 99 “Ohio” But even Bridget sat in stunned silence when, after accusations, explanations, and excuses, he baldly stated, “Tonight, American and South Vietnamese units will attack the headquarters for the entire Communist military operation in South Vietnam . . . “This is not an invasion of Cambodia . . .” he went on. “Our purpose is not to occupy the areas . . . We take this action not for the purpose of expanding the war into Cambodia but for the purpose of ending the war in Vietnam and winning the just peace we all desire . . . We will be conciliatory at the conference table, but we will not be humiliated . . . “My fellow Americans, we live in an age of anarchy, both abroad and at home. We see mindless attacks on all the great institutions which have been created by free civilizations in the last 500 years. EvenhereintheUnitedStates,greatuniversitiesarebeingsystematically destroyed . . .” “Bullshit,”Bridgetsaid.“Fuckingbullshit.Heknowsit,too.Look at him. He’s sweating like the pig he is. He can hardly read his own lies.” Nixonstoppedoncetomophisfacewithawhitehandkerchief;he paused, clearly having lost his place in the speech, and Jane watched him collect himself, breathe deeply, reconnect–anyone else, she would have felt sorry for. Bridget stood up. “‘Great universities are being systematically destroyed?’ Well, Dick. Let’s get to it.” She grabbed a sweatshirt, tied it around her waist. “You guys in?” “I want to hear the end of the speech,” Tom said. “Jane?” “I’ll stay with you.” Bridget looked at them a long moment, shook her head, and was gone. Whenitwasfinished,theyjoinedthestreamofpeopleheadingfor DunnMeadow,wherestudentleadersstoodonamakeshiftstageurging a peaceful protest. But the crowd was too agitated to listen and, when a rumor rippled through the crowd about a panty raid going on at Read Center, most of the demonstrators left the Meadow like a flock of birds suddenly turning in the sky and marched to the dorm, where they found a couple of hundred drunk fraternity guys ranging 100 An American Tune around, yelling up at the girls, who hung out of the windows laughing and tossing out their underwear. Soon cries for panties changed to “Get out of Cambodia” and “To Hell with Nixon.” Girls streamed from the dorm, joining the march back to Dunn Meadow, as it proceeded onward, picking up more people along the way. The balmy spring evening, scented with flowering trees; the absurdity of the panty raid turned protest; the way the crowd swelled and flowed back toward Dunn Meadow as if directed by an invisible hand–none of it seemed quite real to Jane. When they reached the Meadow, news that police had begun to gather at the courthouse set them moving again, down Kirkwood Avenue, toward the town square. “Let’s get out of here,” Tom said. “It’s a big, fucking party, that’s all.” But as they passed the newly dug earth of People’s Park on their way home, students began to pick up rocks to break the windows of some of the storefronts they passed. Anti-war protestors, drunk fraternity guys–by then, it was hard to tell the difference. Tom wrested a rock from a kid wearing a Phi Delt sweatshirt and scuffled with his friends, who were looking for a fight. But he gave up, disgusted, and walked away from them. Neither had mentioned Bridget all evening...