The Fly Boys (29 page)

Stewart looked uncomfortable. “Maybe I agree to a certain extent—”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you’re still an asset to this department,” Stewart said quickly.

“Thanks for saying so, sir,” Steve replied. “But that’s not really the issue, is it, sir?”

The colonel frowned. “I’m afraid I’ve lost you.”

“I mean, all the other officers in the department have at least some college education,” Steve explained. “All I’ve got is
my high school equivalency diploma. I think that when promotions are decided, what’s mostly taken into account is how the
new rankings will affect the chain of command. If you think about it, Colonel, you’ll probably agree that it’s not likely
the Air Force is going to put a high school dropout in command of a bunch of college men. Leastways, sir, not when the officers
in question are doing desk duty during peacetime.” Steve shrugged. “These other guys are really good at their specialty. They
don’t make mistakes in the way they talk or write.”

“Everything you’ve said is true,” Stewart admitted. “But there’s more to the job than good formal communications skills. In
this line of work you’ve got to know how to handle people, and that’s something you’ve become very good at, Captain. Why do
you think I’ve let you represent us in meetings and at hearings and to the press?”

“Well, sir,” Steve hesitated, “I guess I’d always figured it was on account of my war record….”

Stewart shook his head impatiently. “As you said, the war is yesterday’s news. I have you as one of the department’s front
men because you know how to get along with people.”

“I do?” Steve asked, unconvinced.

The colonel laughed. “You’ve been working for me for almost three years, and during that time I’ve seen you grow tremendously
in confidence and maturity. Sure, your lack of an education is increasingly holding you back, but it’s a sign of how far you’ve
come that you’re finally ready to face that fact, and hopefully make a stab at doing something about it.”

Stewart paused. Steve’s heart sank. He knew what was coming next.

“Now then,” the colonel began, “I’ve talked to you on many occasions about the educational opportunities that can be enjoyed
by Air Force personnel—”

“Begging the colonel’s pardon,” Steve interrupted, “but school is hard work, and frankly, I’m not sure that I
want
to work that hard in order to get somewhere I don’t think I want to be….” Steve paused. “It’s about choices, I guess. And
anyway, there’s another aspect to the problem of my stalled career, and that’s my father.”

“What’s your father got to do with this?” Stewart asked.

“Sir, the Air Force is buying a lot of my father’s Broad-Sword fighters, and procurement has recently authorized preliminary
funding to GAT for a jet tanker.”

“Yes? So what?” Stewart demanded.

“Well, sir, I’ve spent a lot of time these last few years nursemaiding the various congressional committees that are always
sticking their noses into Air Force business. They’re always looking for corruption.”

“I know that,” Stewart cut him off. “Politicians love publicity, and nothing grabs the headlines like charging that somebody
or something’s corrupt.”

“Yes, sir, you taught me that,” Steve replied quickly. “Well, it’s occurred to me that maybe it wouldn’t look so good if it
came out that the Air Force was buying airplanes from Herman Gold while his son was a high-ranking desk jockey in the Pentagon.”

The colonel slowly nodded. “Excellent assessment, Captain. I have to admit that I never thought of it that way.”

“But maybe the brass has,” Steve suggested. “I think the brass is going to go out of its way to keep me from being promoted.”

“You mean to say that they’re going to be tougher on you than other officers in order to cover themselves, due to who you
are.”

“Due to who my father is, sir,” Steve corrected firmly. “The way I see it, each of my negatives by itself might not be enough
to hold me back, but when they get added together…” He shrugged. “It seems to me that I’m going to be stuck at a junior level
for the rest of my career.” Steve paused. “Unless—”

“Unless what?” Stewart asked.

“Sir, unless I get transfered
off
desk duty and into my specialty.”

“Which is?”

“Flight duty, sir. Being back in the cockpit of a fighter.”

“We’ve been through all this, Captain,” Stewart said tiredly.

“But, Colonel, sir, back during the war they made me a captain because I’d
earned
the promotion.”

“You’ll earn your promotion here—” Stewart began.

“No, sir!” Steve objected. “With all due respect, sir, I have to differ. You may
suggest
that I be promoted because I’ve been around a long time or because I’ve improved or whatever, but when I’m compared to the
other guys, there’s no way you can say that I’ve earned it, and that’s because I’m simply not as good as the others in this
particular assignment.”

“Well,” Stewart said dryly, “I must say that I see your point. But I
don’t
see what I can do to help you. I assume that all this is leading up to the possibility of your being transferred to flight
duty?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve waited, hopeful.
Now we find out just how much I have learned about public relations
, he thought.

“I’d like to help you out,” Stewart said affably. “But I simply don’t have that kind of pull.”

Gotcha!
Steve exalted. As he’d hoped, Stewart was more than willing to make the concession, as long as he was convinced that he couldn’t
be held to it.

“Well, sir, you see I’ve been working on something for myself for quite a while,” Steve began.

“
You’ve
been working on something for yourself?” Stewart echoed, sounding startled. “What could you possibly—?”

“Sir, remember what you taught me about how the essence of this job is the art of doing favors and asking favors in return?”

“I do.”

“Well, sir, a few months ago Colonel Harris—He works as an aide for the Joint Chiefs—”

“I
know
where Len Harris works,” Stewart interrupted.

“Yes, sir. Of course you would, Colonel.”

“Get to the point!”

Stewart was beginning to sound angry. Steve guessed that the man was beginning to suspect that he’d been suckered.

“Well, sir, I happened to hear through the grapevine that Colonel Harris was looking to get his son a job as a Senate page.
It so happened that during the B-45 Senate hearings I got to be pretty good friends with an aide to Senator Hill. I put in
a good word for Harris’s son with my buddy, who worked it out for the kid to get the job.” Steve allowed himself a smile.
“Colonel Harris was pretty happy with the way things turned out, sir. He told me that if there was ever anything he could
do for me…”

Stewart waved him quiet. “You got Harris to get you your transfer. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve nodded. “Colonel Harris was good enough to use his influence with his boss General Slade to pull the necessary
strings to get it done.”

“And you said you weren’t any good at public relations,” Stewart remarked, deadpan.

Steve was worried. Stewart could fuck this up for him if he had a mind to. “You’re not mad, are you, Colonel, sir?” Steve
asked.

“No, I suppose not,” Stewart sighed. “Although I
would
have preferred it if you’d spoken to me before you put your request to Colonel Harris.”

“Sorry, sir, but I didn’t want to bother you in case it all turned out to be nothing.” Steve paused. “My transfer
is
contingent on your approval, Colonel.”

“Yes, I know it is.” Stewart frowned.

Oh, shit
, Steve thought. “You
did
just say that if there was anything you could do to help me….”

“I
know
what I just said,” Stewart replied sharply. Suddenly he laughed, shaking his head. “All right. Don’t worry about your transfer.
I won’t stand in your way.”

“Thank you, sir!” Steve said, relieved.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Stewart warned. “I think you’re making the wrong decision—”

“Yes, sir. I appreciate your concern, sir, but I do think it’s the right decision for me. I need to feel that I’m the best
at what I do, and there’s no way I’m going to outclass the competition with a typewriter and a telephone.”

“Your promotion to major really
was
on its way—” Stewart said.

“Thank you, sir, but I’ve been pretty much guaranteed a promotion to major once I go back on flight duty, and depending on
where I end up being stationed, there’s even the possibility of my taking command of a fighter squadron.”

Stewart grunted. “Well, I can see your mind is made up, so I wish you all the best, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t take up any more of your valuable time, sir.” Steve stood up.

“You know where you’re going to be stationed?” Stewart asked.

“Well, sir, some of it is up to me,” Steve replied, shrugging. “I can either go into immediate service with a squadron flying
piston-engined Mustangs, or take some time to train to fly a jet. Right now I’m leaning toward the Mustang. I flew one toward
the end of the war, and she was a fine plane.”

“Steve,” Stewart began. “Man to man, can I give you a bit of advice?”

“Uh, yes, sir!” Steve said, startled. “Of course you can, Colonel.”

Stewart chuckled ruefully. “You sounded surprised that I might have advice to give someone like you, but I do.” He sighed.
“I know you don’t think much of an old dog desk jockey like myself.”

“No, sir, that’s not true at all, sir,” Steve said earnestly. “Colonel, you’re where you want to be in the Air Force, and
that’s what I want for myself.”

Stewart looked amused. “You may find that where you want to be keeps changing relative to where you are.”

Steve let that one go by. “Any advice you might give me would be appreciated, sir.”

“Okay. If flying is your passion, I strongly urge you to learn to fly jets while the Air Force is willing to teach you. You’ve
already accepted the fact that your lack of an education has severely limited your career options. Don’t further limit yourself
in your chosen specialty by getting stuck flying an obsolete war machine.”

Steve nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, sir.”

“Let me teach you one last thing, and that’s to think before you act. You’re not a kid anymore. Now that you’re older, and
starting to rise up through the ranks, you’re going to find that people are going to be far less forgiving of your reckless
nature.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve was anxious to get out of the office. He had to telephone Colonel Harris, and he had a million other things
to do.

“Hmm.” Stewart, staring at him, seemed to have read his mind. “You’re dismissed, Captain.” Stewart reached for his telephone.
“I’ve got to start the paperwork to request your replacement.”

It was a warm night for so early in the spring. Steve was lying on his bed, smoking a cigarette and staring up at the ceiling,
a scotch and soda within easy reach. He’d been playing Charlie Parker on the record player. The intricate, tortured wail of
Bird’s alto sax mixed with the street sounds coming in through the open windows, filling the spartan rooms.

He’d had a dinner date with some friends, but he’d canceled out. This evening the music was all the company Steve wanted.
He needed to make some decisions and ponder his future.

He’d already come to the conclusion that Colonel Stewart’s advice made a lot of sense. Steve had decided to put aside both
his sentimentality concerning the Mustang and his anxiousness to get back to active flight duty as soon as possible, and take
advantage of this opportunity to get the jet pilot training he was going to need to stay current.

Yeah, jet fighter training was definitely the way to go, as he’d so informed Colonel Harris over the telephone earlier that
day.

But his decision to take jet fighter training meant that he now had another decision to make. Colonel Harris had offered him
his choice of being assigned to a fighter group flying the F-80 Shooting Star, or an FG being equipped with F-90 BroadSwords.

For most pilots there would be no question about which way to go, Steve thought bitterly. The BroadSword had it all over the
Shooting Star. Only the most prestigious fighter groups based stateside, or deployed in Europe to face off with the Soviets,
were in line for the first of the swept-wing fighters rolling off the GAT production lines.

Yeah, in terms of prestige and performance, the jet to fly was definitely the BroadSword, but for Steve the choice was a little
too complicated to be made merely on the basis of which was the superior machine.

He’d realized he’d been wrong, that he did need company. He needed the advice of someone he trusted and respected….

He got up off the bed and went to the dresser, where his little black book was lying beside the telephone. He dialed the operator
and told her he wanted to call California and then read off Linda Forrest’s telephone number.

He glanced at his watch while he listened to the clicks and hisses on the telephone as the operator put the call through.
It would be a little before seven in Los Angeles. At the other end of the line the telephone began to ring, once, twice, three
times. If she was going out for the evening, maybe he’d be lucky and catch her before she left.

“
Hello
?”

“Hello, Baby Blue Eyes,” he said, settling down on the floor with the telephone on his lap.

“Well, well, Cap’n, how’s Washington since I was there last?”

Every couple of months Linda managed to wrangle her wire service into sending her to Washington. Whenever she was in town
they spent their nights together.

“Springlike,” Steve said. “I didn’t catch you on your way out, did I?”

“Hardly.”

Steve smiled. Some dames would hand a guy a line about how they were about to go out on a hot date, just to try and get him
jealous, but not Linda. She was beyond all that stuff, which was one of the reasons—nonphysical reasons, at least—why he liked
her so much.