Testing The Pat Down

I made a prediction a couple of days after 9/11.

Amidst all the calls for increased security and the public opinion polls that said Americans were ready for more aggressive protocols to keep us safe from another terrorist attack, I said, "Wait a few years. That tune will change."

It certainly has.

From "Don't touch my junk!" t-shirts to the planned "Opt Out Day" Wednesday, the traveling public has expressed the opinion that full-body scanners and pat downs really aren't necessary if they result in inconvenience, embarrassment and the potential for health risks from added x-rays.

Just out of curiosity, and because Kansas City uses private security screeners (as Congressman Joe Mica of Florida wants to see replace TSA at all the nation's busiest airports), I tested out a pat down at Kansas City International Airport yesterday on my way home to Chicago. KCI has full-body scanners but they are only used by the airport's two busiest airlines, Southwest and Delta. I was flying United.

I left a flashlight and a pen in my pockets as I went through the metal detectors. After I "beeped" three times, I was asked to step aside. I assumed the position: standing, hands out to the sides forming a "T." As the security agent frisked me, he explained he was checking my loose clothing for any metal objects I might have forgotten to put in the bin.

The pat-down was fast, semi-professional and didn't appear to draw attention from my fellow passengers. I say semi-professional for two reasons. The agent didn't touch my rear pockets and he wasn't aggressive enough in places where even embarrassed rookie cops in training are aggressive. Had I been wearing a shoulder, belt or ankle holstered weapon, he would have found it. If I'd had a a gun hidden in the area of my groin or a knife in my back pocket, I would have boarded the plane armed.

I watched for about a half hour as about a dozen other passengers were patted down. None voiced an objection. None received more thorough treatment than I. Some were patted only above the waist.

The conclusions I draw from my individual experience are that not all passengers are treated the same way and "pat downs" are not effective if done half-heartedly. I'm sure some security officers do a better job than others. Some do far worse.

Congress is not willing to mandate, nor is the traveling public willing to accept, the cost or inconvenience of truly aggressive security measures carried out by trained anti-terror professionals. The politicians, and the people, have fallen back to believing that, "It won't happen here...again." We all want to get swiftly to our destinations...not wait hours in line. We aren't even willing to trade momentary indignity for better safety.

As a result, Congress has provided unarmed, poorly paid security screeners to do an unpleasant job in the best way they can. The better they do it, the slower the line moves and the more complaints they receive.

As a result, we get TSA and private contractors who, in some highly publicized cases, frisk babies, the elderly, and those in wheelchairs. Colostomy bags break open. Genitals get touched, sometimes harshly. Inappropriate comments are made at indelicate times.

Is there a more efficient way? Not in a country as big, or as opinionated, as ours.

Will the procedures now in place prevent another tragedy? They have so far.

Will there be more complaints, even more lawsuits? Count on it.

Do people feel safer?

Answer that one for yourself.

Watching the War Through a Medal Winner's Eyes

None of us really gets a sense of what war is about unless we've fought in one or heard a compelling story from someone who has.

Sgt. Sal Giunta is the first living Medal of Honor recepient since Vietnam.

President Obama presented his award yesterday at the White House. He has been interviewed everywhere.

After one has been a cop and then spent time as a reporter covering the harshest kinds of violence this side of a war zone, you realize that real heroes don't bluster. The truly tough guys aren't loud or obnoxious. They don't gladhand a room, perfect a grin for the cameras or offer up snappy soundbites.

Whenever a person is officially lauded for acting "above and beyond," whether a soldier, cop, firefighter or just a dad or mom protecting their family, you seldom hear them speak in terms of "I" unless it's to say, "I was just doing what anyone in that situation would have done."

Real heroes prefer the pronoun "we."

So it comes as no real surprise that Sgt Giunta, who looks like a cross between Tom Hanks and CSI:New York's Gary Sinise, is quiet and humble. His eyes are devastatingly sad because, for all his courage, he was not able to save the life of his best friend. As well spoken as he is, sometimes he repeats part of the interviewer's question to give him time to answer. And most of his answers are simple and to the point, self-effacing without being cool.

He truly doesn't seem to understand why he has been singled out when everything he did in war was accomplished while surrounded by a team of soldiers just as professional as he was. On Sixty Minutes , he told Correspondent Lara Logan, "I don't think I did anything that anyone else I was with wouldn't have done. I was in a position to do it. That was what needed to be done. So that's what I did."

He praises his wife for "being there" for him and for giving him the strength to get through it all.

He misses those who were killed, telling the President during the award ceremony he would give back the Medal of Honor if he could just have his friends with him again.

Sgt Giunta's story, his description of the ambush that led to his nomination for the award, the comments of the other soldiers from his squad who were with him, make for compelling reading and viewing.

No matter how you feel about the U.S. having troops in Afghanistan or about war in general, you should look up the reports online. The Sixty Minutes piece is excellent and his last line in the interview will leave you with a lump in your throat.

He and his buddies fought for us. The very least we can do is listen to their story.