Chapter Six
“The Writing on the Wall”
Two months later
Late May, 1961
William Air Force Base, AZ
One never notices what has been done; one can only see what remains to be done …
Marie Curie, Letter to her brother
During the last week of pilot training, Rod entered the training squadron, once again thinking that he’d pass Captain Banner’s old office on his way to the student area. They’d cleared out his desk and belongings, but for now his side of the office remained empty.
So in a way, for Rod, the vacant area served almost as a memorial, and his passage past Rhino’s old office space had almost become a rite, a way for Rod to silently remember the instructor pilot without drawing attention to himself.
As he entered the squadron area he saw his fellow officers crowding around the flight scheduler’s bulletin board. He heard low-muted chatter; a sense of excitement permeated the air.
“What’s up?” Rod said.
One of his classmates standing on his tiptoes answered without turning. “They’ve just posted the final order-of-merit!”
Rod felt a jolt of adrenaline. Finally! The results of every quiz, every check ride, and every flying evaluation over the past year had been combined into a single numeric score that would determine the final standing of each officer in pilot training. A single number that would set the course for the rest of his career.
He pushed through the throng. His fellow students jockeyed for position as they sought out their name. He heard an elated shout; someone must have gotten a higher position than they expected. Another officer cursed, drenched with a bucket of cold reality as he experienced a huge let-down.
Rod felt his heart start to pound. After all this time pursuing his dream, by overcoming the rigors of Academy and sweating through pilot training, it had finally come down to this. The entire year-long training effort would be wrapped up and summarized in a single number that would allow him to choose which aircraft he would fly: The smaller the number, the better the chance he’d be able to fly fighters—any fighter was all he hoped for now—the larger the number, the less chance he’d have.
Rod twisted past his classmates and peered at the typewritten sheet. His eyes flew down the list; nothing. He moved to the second page and felt his heart start to drop. He glanced at the third page and started to feel sick the further down he went—
He drew in a breath. Maybe they’d made a mistake; for some reason the Air Force still confused his given name with Rod, so maybe they were using adoptive parent’s name. He decided to be more methodical and take his time. He looked back at the top of the first page, intending to go down the list one-by-one.
His name was listed first. Number one. And he’d missed it.
He felt lightheaded as he drew silently back. He moved away from the crowd and slumped against the wall. The sounds of his fellow students receded as background noise. Once again he’d beaten the odds and come out as the best of the best.
All he had left was to choose the aircraft he wanted to fly, a seemingly simple choice that would distill his life’s ambitions and dreams. And as though it were the first swing taken in the golf tournament of life, his next decision would define the path he’d take for the rest of his career.
*
Two days later Rod sat in the base theater in his flight suit with the rest of his flying class, most of them Air Force Academy grads from the class of ’60. The place hummed with anticipation.
Various types of Air Force aircraft were listed on a blackboard at the front of the theater with the number of available pilot slots written next to them. They were listed in the order of how past pilot training classes had bestowed the most prestige.
First were the bombers: the lumbering eight-engine B-52 Stratofortress, capable of carrying nuclear weapons, then the sleek B-47, followed by the aging B-36. There was a clear break before the list started again with fighters, followed by jet trainers, transport planes, refueling aircraft, and ending with a smattering of helicopters.
Everyone knew the top graduates would be allowed to choose their first choice; those who graduated with a lower rank-order in the class would have to settle for the planes that were left.
So everyone assumed it was a boring, anticlimactic selection-process backed by historical data, because student desires always matched the priorities listed on the blackboard.
Rod’s name was called first. He stood and drew in a deep breath.
Everyone knew he’d pick the B-52, the flagship of SAC, Strategic Air Command.
SAC ruled both the Air Force and the skies. Flying for SAC was the quickest way to become one of General Curtis LeMay’s legacies, one of LeMay’s bomber generals. And as an Academy grad with a national scholarship under his belt, and now at the top of his pilot training class, it wasn’t a matter of if he would make general, but it was a matter of when, and how fast.
All he had to do was to say “B-52” and his career would be set for life. After all, his father had flown bombers and the die had been cast.
But Rod knew what he wanted.
He’d known it that day he saw the rows of fighter aircraft sitting on the grassy field in Farnborough. He’d even known it years earlier, when he sat on the hood of his adoptive father’s car, watching the fighters fly into March Field; and it had motivated him throughout his four years as a cadet. Once he’d wanted to fly the F-100, but now he had a chance to fly the hottest and fastest jet in the world, and there was only one of them listed for the entire class.
He blurted out “F-105!”
The silence was deafening.
Every officer in the base theater was stunned. The normally festive atmosphere plunged into dead silence.
Some students had spent the past two days calculating which aircraft would be available in the draw, negotiating deals with their classmates who had been undecided. A growing whisper swept over the pilots as they suddenly realized that the aircraft they might be able to pick could be entirely different from what they’d been expecting.
And what did it mean, that the training classes’ number one graduate had forgone a sure path to being a general, only to choose a fighter? And a fighter-bomber at that! Would others follow in his path? Was Rod crazy? Was this a fluke, or was this a sign of changing times? Would someone destined for helicopters now be given the chance to fly something else?
This changed everything!
Excited jabbering erupted in pockets throughout the auditorium as everyone suddenly realized what had just happened: it was as though the room had been a tankful of man-eating sharks and Rod had just thrown in a bucket of raw, bloody meat.
Officers ran up to the blackboard, others scrambled out of their chairs to call their wives, others started negotiating with their classmates. It was feeding frenzy.
And people’s careers changed on a dime.
*
Later that night after Julie rolled off him, Rod was wide-awake. He was on his back, his hands cradling his head and looking up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He’d accomplished everything he’d set out to do in life at the age of twenty-three.
But after the stress of the last six years, he felt at least there should be a band playing, pretty girls throwing flowers in his path, crowds cheering. He should be able to walk to a balcony, lift up his arms, and have waves of adoration roll over him.
He’d accomplished far more than he’d ever expected. He’d beaten the odds and come out on top in everything he did. He’d graduated from the first USAF Academy class and won a prestigious Guggenheim scholarship; he’d completed a Master’s degree in Aeronautical Engineering at Stanford and graduated first in his pilot training class; he was a new husband and father; and now he was assigned to fly the hottest fighter in the world.
But although he had accomplished so much, for some reason it didn’t seem enough—in a way it almost seemed too easy.
He felt there was something else he needed to do, something just out of his reach that would make things perfect. There had to be.
Nanette sighed in the room next to them, her tiny voice breaking the silence. Julie turned on her side, and started snoring softly. He knew that there was something important that was missing in his life; he just wondered what would happen to make him discover what it was.