Now give me the key to Augie’s handcuffs.” Jacobson draws back. “Sir?” I don’t repeat myself. A president doesn’t have to. I just meet his eyes. Jaco… - Bill Clinton

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Now give me the key to Augie’s handcuffs.” Jacobson draws back. “Sir?” I don’t repeat myself. A president doesn’t have to. I just meet his eyes. Jacobson was Special Forces, just as I was a long time ago, but that’s where our similarities end. His intensity is not born of discipline or devotion to duty so much as it is a way of life. He doesn’t seem to know another way. He’s the type who falls out of bed in the morning and bangs out a hundred push-ups and stomach crunches. He is a soldier looking for a war, a hero in search of a moment of heroism. He hands me the key. “Mr.