“… well,” Cole continued, “I just want to assure you that you’ll get all the help you need from Colonel Lafferty here, Colonel McGwire, and, of course, myself.”
Mace said, “Thank you, sir. Colonel Lafferty, in fact, has already been very helpful in working on my relocation, so I don’t think the transition will be too bad.” Mace watched calmly as Lafferty’s eyes clouded in confusion, not sure whether Mace was setting him up or not. As they both knew, Lafferty, instead of really being helpful, had tried to pass off the new arrival’s sponsorship duties to his staff, and the staff dropped the ball. Nobody in the room, or Lafferty’s staff, knew where Mace was living; if he had a family or what any of his needs were. Nothing. Which was fine with Mace.
“Where are you coming from, Daren?” Cole asked.
“Air Command and Staff College, in residence, just after getting RIFed and getting my Reserve commission,” Mace replied. “Before that, I was the deputy commander of maintenance for the 7440th Provisional Wing at Incirlik, primarily in charge of the bomber maintenance departments.”
“You were assigned to Incirlik after Desert Storm ended? For Operation Provide Comfort?” Cole asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, sir. I was there for the Islamic War, too.”
Operation Provide Comfort, the American air blockade of northern Iraq, was at first passed off as nothing more than a public relations effort by the Bush administration — no one knew that the 7440th Provisional Wing had single-handedly kept the Persian Gulf War from reigniting several times. Jordan, Syria, and Iraq had tried to break the blockade, singly and collectively, and were pushed back by the 7440th’s F-15E and F-111 fighter-bombers, and by Turkish F-16s. Overseeing the maintenance for that unit must have been a true nightmare.
Cole noticed Mace’s unpolished silver command navigator’s wings on his uniform and asked, “Did you fly in Desert Storm?”
Mace hesitated for a moment, then smiled before replying, “Yes, sir.”
“I know you were assigned to the 337th Test Squadron at McClellan just before Desert Storm, and an FB-111 squadron before that,” Cole said. “Were you involved with the testing for the five-thousand-pound GBU-28 ‘bunker buster’ bomb? That was an incredible development project.”
“I can’t really discuss my role in Desert Storm, sir,” Mace interjected. That denial confirmed Cole’s suspicions. “Besides, it was a time I’d just as soon forget.”
“It was a great victory, Colonel,” Lafferty said, pleased that Mace hadn’t hung him out to dry in front of Cole, now kissing his ass. “We should all be proud of it.”
“I think the victory we won was not the victory we wanted, sir,” Mace said.
“You mean we should have gotten that bastard Saddam Hussein once and for all,” Lafferty said. “I agree.” Mace was about to open his mouth — to agree, to disagree, to argue, to curse, Cole couldn’t tell — but he merely nodded and said nothing.
“Well, we’re damned glad to have you aboard, Colonel,” Cole said with satisfaction. “It’s good to see you came early to in-process, because we need you out on the line today to kick off the Bravo exercise. And you’ll need to give a briefing for General Layton later on today.” Mace smiled a bit when he heard the name. “You know the General?” asked Cole.
“We’ve spoken,” Mace replied, that same small smile on his face, being careful not to mention that Layton and that ass Army boss Eyers had once ordered him to launch a nuclear missile during Desert Storm that would have killed thousands of people and wiped out half of ancient Babylon in the process — and whacked him for not doing it, then praised him for not doing it. “We’ve not kept in touch, though. I didn’t know he was Fifth Air Battle Force commander until he recommended me for the MG position here.”
“You might have a chance to get reacquainted,” Cole said. “I hate to have you give a dog and pony show on your first day in the harness, Colonel, but we’ll give you all the help you need — just let us know. I understand you’ll be flying with the squadrons once or twice a month — excellent. I think all the MGs should get some flying time — Lambford never cared to fly. You can’t command a maintenance group from your office.”
“I agree one hundred percent, sir,” Mace replied.
“Excellent.” Cole opened a drawer and handed Daren Mace a small foldup cellular phone, spare batteries, a laminated card with phone numbers of the other wing staff officers on it, and car keys with a white plastic Ident-O-Plate vehicle service card attached to the key ring. “Tools of the trade for the MG, Colonel. Your car is outside, gassed up and ready to go. I hope you have utility uniforms handy, then, Daren, because your first task is to grease up eight Vampires for deployment in about twelve hours.”
“I’ll be changed before I leave headquarters, sir. I want to meet with my staff as soon as possible.”
“It’s only six A.M., Colonel.”
“They’ve been waiting since five-thirty, sir,” Mace replied. “I called them in when I got the call from you.”
Cole blinked his surprise, then looked at Lafferty. “Good. Very good. I’ll let you get to it, then.” They shook hands all around, and Mace saluted and departed the battle staff room.
“What do you think, Jim?” Cole asked, stubbing out the last of his cigar after the newcomer had left.
“Not bad. Maybe a bit too officious,” Lafferty said. “But as long as he’s got what it takes.”
“General Layton installed him in the slot himself. Vouched for him personally,” Cole said, rising out of his chair. “Air Combat Command didn’t bat an eye. He must be hot stuff.”
“Right. But how come we can’t find out what he did in Turkey or in Desert Storm?” Lafferty asked. “Pretty strange, if you ask me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Cole decided. “He may be Layton’s fair-haired boy then, but he’s in Plattsburgh now. This job has a way of bringing out the worst in a man, and his honeymoon ended about five minutes ago. Let’s just hope he doesn’t end up in a rubber room like Lambford. Jesus.”
The standard Air Force dark-blue station wagon was hubcap deep in snow, and Mace had to brush four inches of snow off the windows and put tire chains on it himself — as if by magic, no one came out of the front door of the headquarters building for the entire time he was working on the car to help him out. Thankfully, the car started on the second try, and he headed for the flight line.
If the sorry status of his vehicle was any indication of the status of the entire Maintenance Group, Mace grimly thought, he was in for a very long tour of duty. If the group couldn’t take care of one lousy car, how could they take care of a billion dollars’ worth of war machines?
For a few stirring moments he forgot about the bone-chilling cold and looked over the aircraft parked on the ramp—his aircraft, until the aircrews signed for them, he reminded himself — especially the sleek, deadly RF-111G Vampire reconnaissance/strike aircraft. Man, what a beauty.
They had once been FB-111A strategic nuclear bombers, back when Daren Mace flew them not too long ago. Everyone said now that the Cold War was dead the world no longer needed nuclear bombers. Sure. That little presumption could end any day now, thanks to the conflict raging in Europe. The military had taken the supersonic FB-111 and given it a photo, radar, and electronic reconnaissance capability. Their top speed was Mach-two, over twice the speed of sound, and with terrain-following radar and advanced avionics, the RF-111G Vampire was one of the world’s greatest combat aircraft, even after almost thirty years of service. Of course, this version still retained its strike capability, including laser-guided bombs, antiship missiles, TV-guided bombs and missiles, antiradar missiles, and thermonuclear bombs and missiles.…