As a follow-up to this admission, Fox News, and others, should pursue another story about Kerry and Cambodia. See "Hunter, Dreamer, Realist", an article in the Washington Post, June 6, 2003. I picked this article off a link to the Kerry-Edwards web site (it may no longer be there). The article (note the date, which is contemporaneous with Kerry's clear intent to run for the Democrat nomination for president), specifically describes Kerry opening his briefcase and removing a green camouflage hat which he is quoted as calling "My good luck hat." He adds, it was "Given to me by a CIA guy as we went in for a secret mission in Cambodia." The use of the hat cannot be dismissed as a mere verbal misstatement. Rather, the calculated use of the hat is out-and-out dissembling, or, if you prefer, lying. It shows, more clearly than mere words, the pathological nature of Kerry, and the lengths to which he will go to self-promote his Viet Nam "service."
The RATS are admitting to this mistake as a signal to the MSM to move on, nothing to see here... just an honest mistake.
It will probably work.
"WE'RE going through!" The Commander's voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. "We can't make it, sir. It's spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me." "I'm not asking you, Lieutenant Berg," said the Commander. "Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8500! We're going through!" The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. The Commander stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" he shouted. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" repeated Lieutenant Berg. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" shouted the Commander. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" The crew, bending to their various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight-engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. "The Old Man'll get us through," they said to one another. "The Old Man ain't afraid of hell!" . . .
"Not so fast! You're driving too fast!" said Mrs. Mitty. "What are you driving so fast for?"
"Hmm?" said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. "You were up to fifty-five," she said. "You know I don't like to go more than forty. You were up to fifty-five." Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intimate airways of his mind. "You're tensed up again," said Mrs. Mitty. "It's one of your days. I wish you'd let Dr. Renshaw look you over."
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by James Thurber