At first, the Webb campaign didn't accept my invitations for Jim and the others to stay with us, and I understood why they might have been wary of such an offer. Having been involved in politics for thirty years, I knew that it was wise to be careful around people you don't know. Finally, after a particularly grueling 18-hour campaign trip into central and southwest Virginia, I convinced them to give our home a try.
Late on that spring weekday night, as Mac wearily followed me across the Roanoke Valley toward Salem, wound his way along the rural roads leading into our neighborhood and pulled their now-famous "Born Fighting" campaign Jeep down our driveway behind my car, Jim crawled out of the back seat as soon as they stopped, yawned and stretched, look around in bewilderment and asked, "Steve, where ARE we?!"
I just laughed and responded, "You're at my house here in Roanoke County, Jim; we're only seven minutes from I-81, and everything will look better to you in the morning. Come on in and I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."
On that occasion, Webb campaign finance ghuru Misha Chellam was traveling with Jim and Mac, and the three of them trudged into our house, down the stairs to our guest area and were relieved to discover all the comforts of home. Each of them was glad to have his own bedroom and a bath to themselves, and they began to relax a little.
Earlier, Mac had told me of his preference for Coors Light beer and explained that Jim liked Maker's Mark bourbon, both of which they found waiting for them in our T.V. room. Misha preferred micro-brewery beers and the like, and those were available, too. So, before long, we were all laughing and talking as Jim announced that he had gotten a second wind and Mac and Misha demonstrated their considerable talents in shooting pool.
Thus began a series of stopovers at our home for the next six months by Jim and various members of his campaign staff and even his wife, Hong Le, on one occasion. Sometimes as many as a half-dozen of them would spend one, two or three nights with us. It was most rewarding to get to know so many dedicated, hard-working, intelligent and interesting people, each unique in her or his own way but all equally bent upon doing the best possible job for Jim Webb and his campaign.
Sharon and I were glad to keep our house in order for our special guests' frequent visits, and she was always happy to prepare breakfast for them each morning. Toward the end of the campaign, our guests discovered my ability to make some pretty good peanut butter (Mac prefers crunchy) fudge, large amounts of "killer" (Jim's word) vegetable beef stew and an ample supply of "schoolhouse" chili, as Mac referred to it.
In that kind of setting, people get to know one another much better than might be the case in other less personal situations. The better we got to know Jim Webb, Mac McGarvey and Phillip Thompson, along with the other campaign workers, the more we liked and respected all of them. For instance, Jessica "Ginger Kid" Smith is a vegetarian, Adrienne Christian drinks no alcohol but likes her desserts, and Kristian Denny Todd makes frequent telephone calls home in order to talk with her husband and their young daughter.
On rare occasions, Jim and his staff members would reluctantly submit to the need for a rest and relaxation break and would do no campaigning for a few hours. Times like that were few and far between, and on one such rare occasion we met up with Mudcat at his farm in Craig County to do some target practice with our pistols, rode up an old mountain road to its end and then hiked on to the Audie Murphy monument, and finished off the day with a big meal at the Homeplace Restaurant in Catawba.
When they stayed at our home, Jim Webb and his campaign workers always conducted themselves as the perfect guests, assisting with cleanups and helping one another with luggage and the like. In particular, Jim would wash his own dishes after any meal, and he made sure to gather up everyone's towels and wash cloths and bring them to our laundry area as he and the others were on the way out the door for yet another campaign event.
Mac had quit his job as the manager of a popular night spot in Nashville in order to volunteer to help Jim in his campaign. When Mac visited with us, his constant questions about - and sincere interest in - our home, our sons and the various wildlife which we feed here on our wooded lot year 'round, endeared him to us immediately, and forever. Mac would usually describe himself as being merely Jim's driver, but he was much more than that to Jim and to the campaign in general. His admiration and respect for his best friend, Jim Webb, is constant and irrevocable. Mac lost his right arm in Vietnam while serving as Jim's fifth radio operator, but he's not handicapped. Who else do you know who can simultaneously drive an RV, drink coffee and talk on his cell phone one-handed? If you can't get along with Mac, there's something wrong with you.
Phillip, the quieter and more introspective member of the trio, had quit his job as the editor of the Marine Corps Times and had taken a significant pay cut in order to work in Jim's campaign. He soon became an unexpected but equally colorful personality once he was certain of his audience. Phillip's main responsibility was to stay out of the limelight while constantly keeping an eye on Jim, getting him from point A to point B, and moving him out of harm's way if necessary. Phillip also helped with scheduling, printed out maps, stayed in contact with various members of the campaign staff and did some of the driving as well. Phillip is precise in all that he does, possesses an amazing memory along with an impressive array of accomplishments, and has a very funny sense of humor. If you don't take the time to get to know Phillip, it's your loss.
Already convinced of Jim's military, legal, writing, political and overall leadership capabilities, I got to know him as a person and to closely observe his relationship with Mac and Phillip - together, three Marines inseparable on a most difficult but important mission.
Near the end of the campaign, I came to realize that they reminded me of the Three Musketeers. Recently, when I returned to that famous Alexandre Dumas novel to verify my faded memories of this fictional trio, I found that they weren't perfect matches, of course, but I discovered several parallels to their modern day non-fiction counterparts in a character summary at this link:
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http://www.sparknote...
Jim - "Athos - The most important of the Three Musketeers, Athos is something of a father figure to d'Artagnan. He is older than his comrades, although still a young man. Athos is distinguished in every way--intellect, appearance, bravery, swordsmanship . . ."
Phillip - "Aramis - A young Musketeer, one of the great Three. Aramis is a handsome young man, quiet . . ."
Mac - "Porthos - Porthos, the third of the Three Musketeers, is a valiant fighter and a courageous friend . . ."
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Rumor has it that both Mac and Phillip will become members of Jim's U. S. Senate administration, and that's a good thing for all three of them. Although I doubt seriously that you will ever hear them shout in unison; "One for all and all for one!", I believe that they are vitally important to one another and are all three the better for their strong mutual friendship and confident working relationship.
On the Friday evening prior to Election Day, Jim, Mac, Phillip and I once again found ourselves in our family room, shooting pool, drinking beer and bourbon in moderation and talking about the rapidly approaching end of the campaign. As usual, Mac beat us soundly in pool . . . one-handed, of course. When the pool shooting and bull shooting slowed down, there were a few moments of serious discussion between us.
Finally, Jim leaned forward in his chair, placed his glass of Maker's Mark and Coke on the pool table and grew more serious as he stated, "There's a Vietnamese saying," he began, repeating the phrase in that language effortlessly. "It means 'home away from home', and that's what this place has been to us."
"Thanks, Jim; you couldn't have paid us a higher compliment," I responded.
They were back at our home on Sunday night, off to downtown Roanoke's Firehouse #1 the next morning to begin the final campaign stretch with Tim Kaine and Mark Warner, then Jim flew on to Norfolk and traveled to Richmond and northern Virginia to finish up that last long day at a rally with Bill Clinton that evening.
As they say, the rest is history, and it's still in the making. These "three musketeers" and their numerous friends and supporters have many more quests before them, and I predict that they will continue to be quite successful in their various pursuits.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
We already know much about Jim, and there is more information available about Phillip and Mac at the following links and in the excerpts below.
First, you can learn more about Phillip at:
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http://www.olemiss.e...
. . . and/or in this excerpt from that article:
Phillip Thompson
In his startling first novel, Enemy Within, Phillip Thompson wove together two central themes from his own backgroundGÇöhis rearing in Mississippi and his service as a U.S. Marine. The book examines the frightening possibility of armed troops being dispatched to Mississippi to destroy an armed militia, a possibility some feel could happen sooner rather than later.
A native of Columbus, Mississippi, Thompson was born on March 26, 1962, the same day as fellow Columbus native and Mississippi playwright Tennessee Williams. He spent his first three years living in the tiny West Lowndes railroad hamlet of Artesia before moving to Meridian. In 1970 he returned to Columbus, where he lived until he attended Ole Miss to pursue both a journalism degree and a commission in the Marine Corps.
He joined the Marine Corps in 1984 as an artillery officer and spent the next twelve years in various duty stations in California and Hawaii. He served in combat with the 1st Marine Division during Operation Desert Storm. While on active duty, he began to put together the ideas that eventually became his first novel, and he penned several historical pieces for Civil War magazine.
After leaving the Marine Corps in 1996 to pursue a journalism career, he worked as a reporter at his hometown newspaper, the Commercial Dispatch, and as an editor at the Tupelo-based Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal. In late 1997, he moved to Virginia to work as a reporter and editor with Marine Corps Times, an independent newspaper that covers the Marine Corps and the Navy. He has since completed a second book, a non-fictional account of his service during Operation Desert Storm, and is at work on his second novel.
(Article first posted June 1999)
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I located several articles featuring Mac, and they and their links are provided below.
This first article, entitled "When a One-Armed Man is Not a Loser" was written by Jim Webb about Mac for Parade Magazine in 1982:
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http://www.jameswebb...
November 21, 1982
The day the piece of shrapnel ripped his arm away just below the shoulder, a clean swipe like a hot knife that left the arm itself intact at his feet, I cried. Mike McGarvey was my radio operator, which in a Marine rifle platoon is tantamount to shadowhood, alter ego, little brother. Everywhere I walked, he was two steps behind, carrying the PRC-25 radio that linked us to the company. Nights we slept on the same poncho, talking for hours in the darkness about home, aspirations, love, God--our soul. McGarvey was the fifth radio operator I had lost in three months. I had lured him to the job because I liked him. He was competent. He was a friend. He was 18.
I sat next to him in the sunbake of a pocked, clay-dust hillside, waiting for the medevac helicopter to carry him away. That large green bird had hauled dozens of young men who had trusted my judgment to the cool blue sheets of hospital beds, to scarred. uncertain futures-and I could no longer hold back the frustration and the anger. He saw my tears, fixed me in a squinting stare and shook his head.
"Knock that stuff off, Lieutenant. It's only an arm."
Within a week, McGarvey wrote the platoon a letter--left-handed. When he finally left the hospital, he went to a tattoo shop and had a ring of blue dashes inked around what remained of his arm. Just above it was inscribed "CUT ALONG DOTTED LINE."
He is a master of the coined phrase. Not long ago, he and I were riding through Nashville with Tom Martin, another platoon member. Martin had been clipped on the spinal cord by an enemy bullet a week before McGarvey lost his arm. His legs are paralyzed. Using hand controls to drive and caught in a slow lane, Martin suddenly lurched into the next lane. Brakes screeched behind us. Horns blared. McGarvey was quiet for several seconds. Finally, he drawled, "I always did say, never trust a man who won't keep one foot on the brakes."
And Martin gives it back. Later, on the set of a popular television show where we were to promote my book, Fields of Fire, a famous personality was on camera, complaining of the tortures of tennis elbow. Martin nodded toward McGarvey's empty sleeve. "That's your problem, McGarvey. You need to rest that elbow."
"Yeah," said Mack. "I can't hit a tennis ball worth a damn. lately."
Martin and McGarvey walked together into the teeth of the tiger, and if they came away a little chewed up, they gained insight and wisdom in the trade. About themselves. About each other. About people under stress, and about values.
Neat little story, happy ending-if one can erase the hurt of an angry decade, if one works mightily to forget the years of a nation incapable of or unwilling to ratify the experience that tore its warriors' bodies apart, leaving them to stew in the bitter juices of an effort begun nobly and ending ignominiously.
Perhaps I should not write that McGarvey was spat upon and pushed around by antiwar protesters on his first trip away from the amputee ward in Philadelphia, or tell how he and another amputee were derided for wearing their Marine Corps uniforms to a college gathering place. It is uncomfortable, in 1982, to recall that members of the same age group, men who had not seen fit to serve, could so cruelly question the morality of men whose "crime" had been to bleed for their country. This was not an unusual experience. Fred Downs, another arm amputee and author of The Killing Zone, was crossing a street at the University of Denver at about this same time, having just returned to college. A man asked if he had lost his arm in Vietnam. When Fred said yes, the man told him, "It serves you right."
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This one was written recently by C. W. Dean for Raising Kaine:
I was motivated to volunteer for the Webb for Senate campaign in no small part because of James Webb's novels. I lamented to Webb's driver and Marine Viet Nam compatriot, Mac McGarvey, that we would probably not have any more books when Jim enters the U. S. Senate. Mac pointed out that the late Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan wrote a number of books while he was in office and that Jim Webb may have similar plans. Thanks, Mac!! Thanks, Jim!! Thanks, RK readers!!
C. W. Dean, November 2006
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This Washington Times article appeared this past summer:
While his opponent travels Virginia in a silver Mercury Mariner hybrid driven by a staff member with neatly gelled hair, Mr. Webb rides in a camouflaged Jeep Cherokee driven by Michael "Mac" McGarvey, who served as Mr. Webb's radio operator in Vietnam before a piece of shrapnel ripped off his right arm.
"Born Fighting," reads a message that hangs across the four-door Jeep. "Operation: Take Back Virginia."
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And there was this CBS News article back in May:
(AP) Thirty-seven summers ago, in the swelter of An Hua Basin, Marine Lt. James H. Webb saw more bloodshed and death than most people see in a lifetime.
"Thirty-seven years ago this week, over a two-week period of time, we were in about 12 battles and lost a lot of guys," said Michael "Mac" McGarvey, a radio operator in Webb's unit who lost his right arm to enemy fire. He's now Webb's wheel man, driving his camouflage-painted Jeep sport utility vehicle.
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In September, this Telegraph article was published:
His driver, Mike "Mac" McGarvey, has one arm. He lost the other in Vietnam. The candidate himself walks with a slight limp from a grenade attack in 1969. Sen Allen avoided Vietnam service by securing a student deferment. Mr Webb, who is being given increased financial backing by the Democratic Party now that he has a serious chance of beating Sen Allen, also has the advantage of the imprimatur of President Ronald Reagan GÇô a revered figure on both sides of the political divide.
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And from the Webb Grass Roots Hampton Roads site, there is this quote, which was also included in one of Webb's campaign videos:
"Jim Webb is going to enlighten Washington," said
Michael "Mac" McGarvey, a radio operator in Mr.
Webb's military unit during the Vietnam War. "If he is
elected, they are going to see honesty like they have
not seen honesty in a long time. If he doesn't believe it,
it won't happen."
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Mac was quoted in the Roanoke Times here:
One of those volunteers is Mac McGarvey, a radio operator in Webb's Marine unit who lost his right arm in Vietnam. McGarvey quit his job at a legendary Nashville honky-tonk called Tootsie's Orchid Lounge to drive Webb around Virginia in a camouflage-painted Jeep emblazoned with the campaign's "Born Fighting" slogan.
"He really cares about the country," McGarvey said. "He's not a politician."
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. . . and again in the Roanoke Times here:
Webb's sober campaign countenance masks a passion that is evident to his friends, said Mac McGarvey, who served in Webb's rifle platoon during the Vietnam War and remains fiercely loyal to him. McGarvey quit his job running a Nashville saloon to drive Webb on his campaign trips.
"He really cares too much, probably," said McGarvey, who lost his right arm in combat.
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And, finally, there is this October article about all three of the "musketeers" by George Loper:
"A bit past 5 o'clock on a mid-September Wednesday, one month after the miraculous resurrection of his moribund Senate campaign, Jim Webb comes busting out of Call Room One, where Democratic candidates are held captive for hours at a time and forced to plead for cash. Catching the eye of his 'body guy,' former Marine Corps Times editor Phillip Thompson, Webb barks, 'We've got to be in Alexandria, don't we?' The former Navy Secretary's feet, shod in combat boots belonging to his son, Jimmy, who's just gone on active duty in Iraq, never stop churning as he pushes through the heavy front door of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee's Washington headquarters and pounds down the narrow walk-up toward his ride--a small SUV, painted in camouflage, with a Jim Webb--Born Fighting sign fixed to the side. Behind the wheel, as always, is 'Mac' McGarvey, who lost an arm in Vietnam under Webb's command. When his 'best friend' decided last February to challenge Virginia's wildly popular Republican Senator, George Allen, Mac up and left his job running a bar in Nashville, volunteering to spend the next nine months being directed--and misdirected--all over the interstates and backroads of Virginia.
'I have no idea where we're going,' Mac says as Webb bounds into the front seat, quipping, 'That could be taken as a symbolic statement about this campaign.' After haggling with the body guy over the best route to his after-work campaign rally, Webb props a boot up on the dashboard and calls over his shoulder, 'We have a live at 5:25?'
'There's a live at 5:40.'
'All right. Oh, man. Do you have the binder with the speech in it?' The body guy hands it up to Webb. 'I'm sorry,' the candidate calls back to me. 'You can ask me questions in a minute. I don't have a speechwriter, and I just wrote this this morning, and I need to go over it.' It's impossible to tell whether Webb, who's congenitally deadpan, is kidding about the speechwriter. He speed-scans the copy, scribbling a few lines in the margins and handing back a page at a time to the body guy, who's quietly pointing Mac toward Alexandria. When they get there--if they get there--Senator Barack Obama will be there, too, making his first pitch for a former member of Ronald Reagan's Cabinet. It will also, no doubt, be Obama's first endorsement of a formerly bitter critic of Vietnam War protesters, civil rights activists, 1960s liberals, affirmative action policies and women in combat--just a few of Webb's targets through the years.
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Many thanks, Jim, Mac and Phillip - and to everyone else who helped along the way - for winning this latest battle and, even more importantly, for your willingness to continue fighting the good fight while being . . . one for all and all for one.
Steve McGraw
Happy Thanksgiving!
Steve McGraw
I, for one, consider you to be an official Jim Webb musketeerette.
Thanks again!
Steve
You, too, are undoubtedly an official Jim Webb musketeerette!
Steve
In addition, the impending holidays - and, especially the new year - promise to bring with them not only many warm-hearted celebrations but also that breath of political fresh air so badly needed at this time in our nation's history.
Is it 2007 yet? I'm celebrating early . . .
Steve
Do re-read the book, now that you're no longer 14... And find some other -- more appropriate -- comparison :)
(Hey, wait a minute, "libra"; you're not currently living, working and studying in Taipei, are you?! No, that's right; Steven's an Aries . . .)
But seriously, my friend, I will have to readily profess to a somewhat childlike view of this heroic trio - Jim, Mac and Phillip.
Together, and with the help of hundreds of thousands of people and millions upon millions of dollars, they achieved a seemingly impossible goal in an incredibly short period of time. (Sounds almost like fiction, doesn't it?)
Therefore, please suffer my relatively immature approach to this subject matter and apply only the best attributes of Athos, Porthos and Aramis to our "three musketeers" as they so justly deserve.
Now, gather around, children, and repeat with me . . .
"One for all and all for one!"
Thanks again!
Steve
And thanks for a great story. Yes, it was like something out of fiction and another good "lesson" -- great hearts can move mountains, against all odds.
But seriously, in writing this piece, I certainly anticipated the possibility of someone attempting to assign the role of D'Artagnan to me, but having not served in the military, I would never claim to be a "musketeer", much less one so gifted as that famous fictional fighter.
One evening last summer, when Phillip and I were discussing some of our experiences with SCUBA diving and the fact that we are both certified in the sport, Mac asked me if there was anything I hadn't done. I immediately responded that, unlike him and Phillip and Jim, I had never been in the military service, probably one of my greatest life regrets.
Therefore, since I have such tremendous respect for those who have served in our armed forces, I consider myself totally unworthy of such a distinction.
However, like you and most concientious, thinkng people, I have other abilities and talents combined with a sincere desire to make life better. There are numerous things that we all can do to help our country in different ways.
And, like the vast majority of the readers of Raising Kaine and its contributors, I am willing to devote much time and energy and many resources to help make sure that statesmen like Jim Webb get elected to public office.
The war in Iraq is so unpopular because it is taking away from us so many of our young people, a number of our middle-aged and older citizens, our sons and daughters, our mothers and fathers, our relatives and friends and neighbors.
Sometimes, this war, like all wars, doesn't give them back to us, or it returns them to us forever altered.
At the current casualty rate, unless something changes soon, in a few more years we will have signicantly abused, mismanaged and depleted one of our nation's greatest natural resources; its people.
I worry every day about Marine Corps lance corporal Jimmy Webb now serving on the ground in Ramadi, Iraq. I worry about our youngest son, Bobby, an ensign in the Navy who's currently in training in Pensacola to become a pilot. I worry about all the rest of those fine men and women in our armed forces who risk so much for the rest of us every day and night.
Now, with Jim Webb's election, I feel as though the day is coming when I may not need to continue worrying about them quite so much as I have in the recent past. I derive a certain sense of hope and optimism from Webb's political and moral victory.
No, not D'Artagnan, nor Athos, nor Porthos, nor Aremis - just a dedicated and loyal fan of their best qualities as exemplified by our nation's heroes in uniform.
May our military men and women come home soon, one for all, and all for one.
Steve
I have to agree with my most gracious host McGraw...I laughed out loud. You have missed the mark. I'm so 180 degrees out from being both narcissistic and religious, it would make your head spin.
Steve, your command of telling a story rivals the greats. I don't agree with it all, but I sure do love reading it. Thanks, Roanoke.
Phillip
Steve