Going Rogue: An American Life (74 page)

Going Rogue

mer’s end. The a1penglow is pinker on the mountains late in the evening, casting the prettiest light.

September 11, 2008, was one of those gorgeous fall days in Fairbavks, the home of Fort Wainwright. The Stryker Brigade’s 3,500-soldier unit was set to deploy
co
Iraq, and I had commitred
CO
keynoting the deployment ceremony long befure being rapped as the GOP’s vice presidential candidate.
In
fact, I knew I would speak at rhe event even befure I found out that my son would be one of the soldiers going
co
war with the brigade. Still, in the days after the convention, the campaign questioned my commitment
co
speak there.

“It could be perceived as ‘political,”’ Tucker said.

“Really?” I said. “I think
it
would actually
be
political to cancel on the Army and be off somewhere politicking instead of fulfill
ing
my promise.” As the campaign unfolded, Tucker stuck to me like gum on a shoe.
Nice
guy. I’d see him
in
the hotel
in
the morning. Throughout the day, he’d usher me from building
co
SUV
co
building to SUV. I’d see
him
before each event, and afterward he’d be waiting for me on the campaign bus steps with an indulgent smile that said, “Come over here’and let me tell you what you’ did wrong, bless your heart.”

I assured Tucker and the rest of the campaign folks that I knew how to explain in my opening remarks that I was speaking as Alaska’s governor and not as a. vice ptesidential candidate. I also pointed out rhat

governor, I routinely attended deployment

ercises and welcome-home ceremonies, as well as far too many
memorials for fallen troops. The whole country, and especially Alaskans, knew that I firmly supported our military. Besides all that, there was nothing in the world that could keep me from saying goodbye
co
my son. The campaign finally agreed to honor my committment and we all
lew to Alaska.p>

• 259

•

SARAH PALIN

On the day of the cetemony, I sat on the field in the shade of an awning with the military top btass, waiting fot my turn to speak. It was chilly because once summer gives way to fall in Fairbanks, winter chases the mild temperatures out fast. I longed to sit out in the last remnants of warm sunshine with the military families who had gathered to honor their deploying spouses, sons, and daughters.

As usual, I had to swallow hard when the military band played, the honor guard presented the colors on the tarmac, and our troops marched by in formation. I scanned the thousands in uniform, hoping to spot Track, but I couldn’t pick him out. Once again, I marveled out loud, “They sure do look alike.” And as before, an officer smiled and whispered, “That’s the point!” What a strangely incongruous but perfectly appropriate place for my son to be at this moment in his life-no special attention, completely blended in with the crowd, just one of many who had volunteered to serve his country. Sharp, disciplined, uniformed, Track was incognito-just as he wanted to be.

In conversations leading up to the ceremony, he had emphasized that he did not want to be singled out, especially at his deployment, something I had known before he said it. whatever you do, Mom, don’t say ‘Hooah,”’ he told me on the phone one day. He meant that I shouldn’t embatrass him by trying to imitate the Army’s trademark rally cry.

“}
have
to say it! It’s a tradition!”

“But you never say it right.”

Now, sitting under the awning, I leaned over to my escort again, “It’s okay if I say ‘Hooah’ at the end, right?”

“Oh, yeah, you gotta say it!” Colonel Daly said. “They’ll love it!”

“So how do
you
pronounce it?”

“Hoo-ah.”

“Hoo-ah.
Okay. Got it.” Thinking about Track’s warning, I still

•

•

Rogue

wasn’t sute if I

going to say it, but now I had the confirmed

pronunciation in my back pocket, just in case.

Todd and the kids, along with our extended family, had traveled to Fairbanks for the ceremony and planned to hook up with Track afterward for see-you-soon hugs and pictures. But I had to content myself with seeing them all from a distance. It waS a weird feeling: A couple of weeks before, I could have-and would have-made a special point of gathering with my own. But now I felt like a bit of a captive, pulled away from my loved ones in favor of a “higher priority,” as though in the final analysis there is any such thing.