Love, Romance and Sex in the U.S. Foreign Service - Part II: Bombs & Bureaucrats

Wartime romance isn't all it's cracked up to be.

(Sorry that “Dispatches From Exile” has been inactive of late. I’m recovering in hospital from a health setback, but will be back in action in the next few days. Meantime, I re-post three very popular timeless pieces from a little over a decade ago for your amusement. Subject: “Love, Romance and Sex the U.S. Foreign Service.”)

The love of one's country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border? ~ Pablo Casals

Six Tips on Courtship in a War Zone
(Cosmo Mag -- are you paying attention?)

• When your love interest calls via military radio phone from a jungle redoubt asking for advice on what to do as mortar rounds slam into her encampment, counsel her as follows: "Hit the ground!"

• When dating via helicopter over enemy terrain, become a Believer and pray to God often -- even if you aren't a Believer, it's best to hedge your bets when your life is on the line.

• 24/7 armed guards who accompany you wherever you go can put a crimp on your dating as well as the rest of your social life. Stay at home until the danger passes.

• Kevlar trumps Ralph Lauren and Dolce & Gabbana: don't fret about making a fashion statement in a place where olive drab dominates the runways. There's something to be said about bullet-stopping Kevlar even if it does suppress the fine lines of your figure.

• When the local fare moves on your plate, or all those around you are retching their guts out, a dinner date centered on Meals-Ready-to-Eat (MREs) is an acceptable fallback.

• When traveling over jungle cover in which wild-eyed, drug-crazed freedom fighters love to take pot shots at low-flying aircraft just for the hell of it, do anything possible to protect your private parts, as these may come in handy as your romance progresses to the next stage. Helmets, flak jackets and medical kits are just some of the items you can use for this purpose.

Is This a Date, or Apocalypse Now?
A fetching young Dutch UN peacekeeper caught my eye when I was serving at our new embassy in war-torn Cambodia in the early '90s. There was something about the blue beret, the gouda-infused enthusiasm to bring Freedom and Democracy to the benighted Cambodians, her sacrificing her wooden shoes for jungle boots, her patriotic profile in a black one-piece swimsuit at the only pool in the country.

We hit it off. Then she was posted to the country's far northeast, an area so remote that no roads led to it, a backwater in which we stumbled upon anti-communist Vietnamese guerrillas who didn't know Hanoi had won in '75, a region dominated by exotic minority peoples speaking languages unknown to linguists, an ecological wonderland with animal species thought to be extinct. The only way to get there was by chopper. The UN contracted transportation out to a Russian company operating rickety Soviet-era helicopters piloted by Red Army veterans, many of whom made their bones in Afghanistan. It wasn't unusual for Khmer Rouge guerrillas to shoot at these choppers; bullet holes occasionally were found in the fuselages after landing.

When in D.C. on a date, one needs only to hop into one's shiny new Miata, pick up one's date and zip over to Marcel's for filet of Dorade and foie gras mousse, to be followed by drinks at Veritas and maybe a late showing of Woody Allen's latest. When dating in Stung Treng, however, one must lower one's standards a notch or two. With alcohol-sodden, joyriding Russians at the stick, I flew too many times than I care to remember between Phnom Penh and Stung Treng. I got a break when our own POW/MIA search team flew Blackhawks to that region to excavate the remains of our Vietnam War missing-in-action. Otherwise, we kept in touch via Australian military radiophone. Indeed, she did call me one afternoon asking what to do as mortar rounds slammed into her encampment (I could hear the explosions over the receiver). And I shouted, "Hit the ground!"

Mother State
Something like sixty percent of Foreign Service personnel take on foreign-born spouses. This, of course, is to be expected when most enter the Service at a fairly young age and spend much of their working lives overseas. But love and statecraft often don't follow in parallel paths and bumps are encountered along the way. Mother State becomes a mutant Junior Prom chaperone when it comes to one's love life and family affairs. You thought you shed parental oversight of your personal affairs once you hit your late teens. But once you take the oath and sign your soul away for that security clearance, be prepared to have your most intimate affairs become the business of Mother State.

Once my relationship with the Dutch peacekeeper became a steady one, the embassy's Regional Security Officer informed me that she needed to be "cleared," i.e., investigated and deemed not a security threat to the United States. "Fill out this Form SF-86 and all these other forms," he told her. She looked at me and asked, "Is this for real?" I said, "Yes, dear. It's only a formality." "I've never dated anyone before whose employer required that I be investigated," she replied, not pleased. The 21-page SF-86 asks such questions as:

"Have you ever knowingly engaged in activities designed to overthrow the U.S. Government by force?"

"Have you ever knowingly engaged in any acts of terrorism?"

The RSO then interviewed her at length. Sheepishly and with unsteady nerves, she confessed to having demonstrated against short-range nuclear missiles in Europe when she was at the University of Leiden. The RSO gave her a pass for this crazy youthful act of anarchistic nihilism. He generously informed us that we could continue to see each other pending a background investigation of her life in the Netherlands.

Now, security investigations have a way of throwing a damper on romance. In the eyes of the foreign ladies, you go from being an eligible bachelor to radioactive waste. Fortunately, I was able to assuage and sweet-talk my foreign lady into going along with what for her was a low-level inquisition. She was "cleared" not long afterward.

Fast forward: Our Engagement. According to the regs. 3 FAM 4191, "an employee intending to marry a foreign national must provide notice 90 days prior to the marriage date." More red tape to complete. The regs further warn, "Failure of an employee to provide the required notification/approval of cohabitation with or marriage to a foreign national may result in the initiation of an appropriate investigation, immediate suspension which may result in a proposal for revocation of the employee’s security clearance, and/or disciplinary action." Pretty heady stuff. More assuaging and sweet-talking needed.

We put in all the paperwork and made arrangements to wed at a small castle in a fairytale setting in Nijmegen. The entire Dutch extended clan was invited. Everything was on track. All we needed was the actual green light from Mother State. As time drew down, we continued to wait for that green light. And waited. Finally, I got on the phone and called State. "What gives?" I asked. "It's been months now." I was told to wait some more. Still nothing. My mind started going off in strange directions. Was she indeed a bomb-throwing anarchist? I wondered. Maybe a card carrying member of the Gouda Workers of the World? Nope. Mother State lost our paperwork. Advance directly to Go and start anew, I was told. "But we have a whole castle lined up. Half of Brabant province has been invited." "Sorry. No wedding without us saying it's ok," Mother State replied with heartfelt empathy. Desperate, I called a buddy who entered the Service with me who worked in that office. Miraculously, he made things happen. We got the green light to marry.

If you work for Wal-Mart or GEICO or JetBlue, you may date, live with or marry whomever you want whenever you want. But for those who labor in the twilight reaches of national security, Uncle Sam's cold, bony hand keeps a tight grip. Like some medieval lord, his blessing must be gotten to enter a steady relationship or to take the hand of a beloved in matrimony. Amor vincit omnia.

The opinions and characterizations in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily represent official positions of the U.S. government.

See also: Love, Romance & Sex in the U.S. Foreign Service - Part I: Of Lust & Loneliness