Tim Walz’s military crime is all in the cover-up
There’s an unmistakable aura if you’ve ever been to any of the 172 VA medical centers run by the Veterans Health Administration. It’s a quiet somberness — near reverence — that demands attention and respect. Many veterans are elderly, and they glide through the hallways in wheelchairs pushed by volunteers. They often wear jackets with American flags and service branch patches that look oversized on their age-shrunken frames. But from under their hats, almost always in caps of the conflict and associated service ribbon, their eyes reflect a knowledge of human nature that goes along with the horrors of war. They aren’t asked to explain their service; you can see it in their faces. At the VA Medical Center in Minneapolis, this is a common scene.
