A close associate hints: There's a secret compartment in Kerry's briefcase. He carries the black attaché everywhere. Asked about it on several occasions, Kerry brushed it aside. Finally, trapped in an interview, he exhaled and clicked open his case.

"Who told you?" he demanded as he reached inside. "My friends don't know about this."

There are panning shots of his dog tag, a pile of bills, his wallet, a woman's picture, an opened letter and envelope, cigarettes, a glass and Cordon Bleu bottle, and a gun lying next to his pillow.

The hat was a little mildewy. The green camouflage was fading, the seams fraying.

"My good luck hat," Kerry said, happy to see it. "Given to me by a CIA guy as we went in for a special mission in Cambodia."

"A journey on a U.S. Navy patrol boat with a four-man crew up the jungle-lined Nung River into off-limits Cambodia to follow Col. Kurtz's path to his remote stronghold island."

"Secret Aaaaagent Man! "They've given you a hat and taken 'way yore name!"

Baron von Munchausen again
Kerry put on the hat, pulling the brim over his forehead. His blue button-down shirt and tie clashed with the camouflage. He pointed his finger and raised his thumb, creating an imaginary gun. He looked silly, yet suddenly his campaign message was clear: closed off from the outside world, haunted by his liquor-induced memories of the choppers, gunfire and the war. Citizen-soldier. Linking patriotism to public service. It wasn't complex after all; it was Kerry.

"he's out there operating without any decent restraint, totally beyond the pale of any acceptable human conduct"

It was affected... It was posturing... It was stoopid...

He smiled and aimed his finger: "Pow."