was uncovered. No more ambushes occurred. West immediately reported what had taken place to his superior, who did not relay the information up the chain of command. The information got out anyway, and in October 2003 Allen West was relieved of his command and choppered to the base in Tikrit to await further discipline. At minimum, his Army career was finished. Just as likely he would be court-martialed and sentenced to prison at Fort Leavenworth.
West testified at his Article 32 hearing in November 2003. He acknowledged that his actions were in violation of Army rules. He pled that no action be taken against his subordinates, who were only following his orders. He told the court about a promise he had made to his soldiers’ families at a pre-deployment gathering: “I’m going to bring your guy back alive.” Their safety was worth his breach of regulations, he contended—adding, “I’d go through hell with a gasoline can for my men.”
After the hearing, West’s attorney, Neal Puckett, could barely contain his awe. “Your life’s going to be totally different.,” he said. “The nation’s going to see you as a leader who stands up for what’s right.”
Puckett added, “Allen, you should run for Congress.”
“I just don’t want to be in jail,” said West.
The “I’d go through hell with a gasoline can” quote made its way back to Washington. Republican congressmen wrote letters to the secretary of the Army asserting that West should be commended for his actions rather than disciplined. A pro-West petition collected 130,000 signatures. Enough donations poured in to more than cover his legal fees.In the end, the military fined him five thousand dollars and permitted him to retire with full benefits. A martyr of the right was born.
West, his wife, Angela, and their two daughters relocated to south Florida in 2004. He taught history at Deerfield Beach High School but only lasted nine months. It astonished him that his students knew nothing about the Constitution or why the Civil War was fought. When one of the kids took a swing at him, West knew that there would be serious trouble if he remained. He decided that he would be better off in a war zone. For the next two and a half years he worked as a military contractor operating out of Kandahar. As it turned out, Neal Puckett was not the only one with ambitions for his former client. Some individuals in Florida contacted him after the Republicans lost the House in 2006. Would he consider running?
Allen West returned to the Fort Lauderdale area in May 2007 to begin plotting his campaign . But he was unknown and underfunded, running against an incumbent Democrat in the hope-and-change election cycle of 2008. The Democrat, Ron Klein, beat him by double digits. November 4 was an evening of tangled emotions for the West family. Many of his relatives had voted for Obama, with great enthusiasm. West caught some of the man’s victory speech. What he felt was not pride but skepticism. They had a term in the Army for a slick-talking media darling like the president-elect: spotlight Ranger.
Three months after his defeat, West was knocking on doors again. A movement was beginning to brew, with CNBC correspondent Rick Santelli challenging viewers on February 19 to show up in Chicago for a “Tea Party” in July to protest the government’s ill-advised mortgage lending policies. What the crusade lacked was a warrior.
On October 21, 2009, at a Tea Party rally in Fort Lauderdale, congressional candidate Allen West stood onstage, dressed in khakis and a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, watching two performers in colonial attire play the fife and drums. West’s assignment at the rally was to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, nothing more. Just as he was about to begin, he noticed a gentleman standing off to the side, costumed as a Revolutionary War soldier, complete with musket and bayonet. West got his cue, took the microphone, and decided