America 1982-Chapter 530 - 105: No Cubans

Lance drove the Ford F150 camouflage pickup that seemed as if it had just driven straight back from the smoke-filled Vietnamese battlefield. A few dozen meters from the WLRN-TV Station, he slowed down and pulled over, which was entirely different from how other candidates arrived. Typically, the other candidates drove right up to the station’s front doors, stepped out of various models of business cars, waved to thank supporters at the scene, and then, prompted by assistants, quickly disappeared inside the television station to prepare for the primary debate.

But Jeff, Jessica, Gina, and the kids had gotten out of the car early and walked towards the old soldiers who had come early to cheer for Jeff. Without waving, Jeff faced each of the disheveled-looking veterans, giving them a firm hug and a crisp response:

"Old soldier, I will win tonight’s battle! I’ll come to see you with victory in hand!"

"Sir, save me a drink to celebrate victory when I come out!"

"Sergeant Fray! I will make sure Washington hires the best doctors to remove the shrapnel from your body! I want you to live!"

Jeff never hesitated, embracing each old soldier, no matter if they were homeless, reeking, or in tattered clothes. He acted as if he were olfaction impaired, or perhaps he was just one of these unfortunate souls himself. It was like a military rally within the army, where everyone laughed, embraced, and then set off together, stepping onto the battlefield.

At the exterior of the WLRN-TV Station where the supporters of the candidates gathered, Jeff’s group had the most people. It wasn’t that other candidates couldn’t summon more supporters to the scene than Jeff – they didn’t need to. After all, it was only a party primary; more importantly, during this time, voters should be at home with their families, and candidates should considerately allow supporters to watch the performance from their sofas at home through television.

Only Jeff’s supporters, many of whom were old soldiers without homes due to alcoholism, drug abuse, domestic violence, or chronic homelessness, had nowhere else to go. Jeff was their only hope because this descendant of theirs, their comrade-in-arms, promised to fight for their interests in Washington.

Even a few veterans had set up two television sets on a dilapidated car, ready to watch the live televised primary debate outside the venue. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Jeff hugged the old soldiers one after another. His children followed closely behind their father, saluting each veteran with a Boy Scout’s salute. The little ones’ earnest expressions often elicited a cheerful response from the veterans. Even those who were drunken made an effort to stand upright and salute them with a Patton-style salute while jokingly saying, "Keep moving forward! Soldier!"

For tonight’s event, Jessica styled her hair into wavy, flipped-out short curls, wore an ocher dignified dress, sheer stockings, low-heeled leather shoes, and a pearl necklace around her neck, all complemented by a gentle smile as she went behind the children to shake hands and greet every veteran.

Tonight, it was Jessica who underwent the most significant transformation in appearance; Marcus had spent almost three days finalizing her current look.

The change of image was indeed striking and made an impression. Older WWII veterans at the event momentarily paused upon seeing Jessica, then firmly shook her hand. Their expressions were a mix of nostalgia and contentment.

Jessica’s look was a common one for Florida housewives during WWII – a simple, elegant dress, self-curled hair, sheer stockings, a small accessory that was worn out even in times of poverty, and low-heeled leather shoes that were comfortable for walking.

Seeing Jessica dressed like that, many of the old veterans were momentarily moved, their thoughts transported back to those tumultuous and dislocated years.

However, Gina, walking behind Jeff’s family, quickly brought those reminiscences of family members to another pleasant memory. For Gina’s look tonight also underwent a drastic change: her long golden hair had turned into a fluffy, full set of golden wave curls at the jawline, her lips painted a sexy, fiery red, a purple form-fitting low-cut strap dress, flashy earrings, a pearl bracelet, her long legs bared, stepping in sequined high-heeled dance shoes.

Whether they were from WWII or Vietnam, as long as they weren’t blind, anyone could tell that this young girl was dressed as alluringly as Marilyn Monroe. Although Vietnam War veterans never enjoyed Monroe’s USO shows, they were familiar with this style. Other American actresses or beauty queens who visited Vietnam before had also maximized their attempts to mimic Marilyn Monroe’s sensual look.

A drunken veteran, holding a makeshift slogan sign made of crude cardboard, had a cheeky smile on his face as he shouted at Gina, "Censorship officer!"

It was like a starter’s pistol, drawing all the old soldiers’ attention to Gina, who then burst into laughter and joined in shouting in unison, "Censorship officer!"

"That’s Marilyn Monroe’s classic quote," Gina’s earpiece buzzed as an assistant from the team promptly reminded her, "About the thing with ’that cleavage’."

Gina leaned slightly forward towards the direction of the veterans, revealing most of the paleness of her chest, then suddenly stood erect, her breasts shaking with the movement. She extended her finger towards those old soldiers and adopted a mixture of silliness, innocence, affectation, and most importantly, sexiness in her voice as she spoke, "The problem with censors is that they worry about a girl showing too much cleavage. What they should be more concerned about is when a girl doesn’t have any!"