“Yes, of course, Mr. President,” Velichko said. “You meant to say RF-111G Vampire aircraft.”
“No, sir, they are RF-111G aircraft,” he insisted, his voice rising a bit. A few members of the President’s Cabinet shuffled uneasily in their seats — it was not good to hear the President interrupting the Russian president during their conversation. The Chief Executive had a trigger temper, and it was just like him to get wound up during this conversation.
“When may I tell my government that we can expect this deployment to come to an end and these RF-111G aircraft return to the United States, Mr. President?” Velichko asked.
“I suppose that’s all up to you, Vitaly,” the President said evenly, a bit of sarcasm in his voice. Secretary of State Harlan Grimm’s heart skipped a beat. The President was baiting the Russian. He was about to speak, but instead held out two hands, urging the President to take it easy and be calm. But the President had crossed the line, and nothing was going to hold him back now. “The Turks think you’re trying to scope out their military bases and that you’re puttin’ the squeeze on ’em to stop supporting the Ukrainian government in exile. You’re makin’ a lot of people nervous, Mr. President, and we had no choice but to respond. You got nothing to worry about from me if you just tell your fly-boys to back off and let things over there cool down. As for the -111s, we’ll keep ’em over there for as long as it’s necessary.”
“I understand, Mr. President,” Vitaly Velichko echoed coldly. “You will keep the F-111s in Turkey for as long as you think is necessary.”
Again, Harlan Grimm, now on his feet while listening in on a dead extension, shook his head, warning the President not to let the Russian put words in his mouth; but the President responded, “That’s right. Mr. President, I don’t want to send those planes to Turkey. They’re just Reservists, and we got young women in that unit that have never been overseas and don’t know what it’s like to be in action. Frankly, I’d rather not send them to a place like Turkey. But your actions in the region are making lots of people very nervous. We can defuse this whole thing by just backing off. It should be put to an end as soon as possible. How about it?”
“I thank you very much for your words, Mr. President,” Velichko replied dismissively. “Thank you very much for speaking with me. Good-bye.” The American chief executive barely had time to respond before the connection was broken.
“Jeez, what an arrogant bastard,” he said as he hung up the phone, popping some more candy in his mouth. “So. Comments?” No one spoke up. “I hate to deal with world leaders over the phone, but talking with Vitaly’s pretty easy. I wish the French prime minister spoke English as well as Velichko. Any other comments?”
No one was about to tell the President that he very well might have insulted the Turks, the women in the Air Force, all military Reservists, and in effect told the Russians that the United States would back off and, essentially, to go ahead with their plans to take over the Ukraine. When there was no response, he said, “Okay, that’s over with. The First Lady is flying up to Plattsburgh to see those bombers off, and you’re going with her, right, Phil?”
“Yes, sir,” General Freeman replied halfheartedly, not at all happy about being on a trip with the Steel Magnolia.
“Good. I know the press coverage makes this whole thing look like a circus, Phil, but I think it’s important to show the American people what we’re doing to respond to the crisis, that we’re not going overboard but that we are responding. My wife wants to get involved in military affairs, and I think it’s good — few First Ladies have shown much interest in the military in the past. Good luck with that.”
Circus was just about the right word for it, Freeman thought. He said, “Thank you, sir,” and departed like a bat out of hell.
THIRTY
With the morning sun glistening off the blue and white polished exterior of Air Force One as a backdrop, the two lines of aircrews snapped to attention as dark-blue security vehicles, Secret Service Suburbans, rolled to a stop, followed by two blue VIP limos and another Secret Service sedan. The crowd of about a thousand people, mostly hastily invited guests and local political friends of the President of the United States, gathered against the security ropes about fifty feet away grew louder and more restless. A podium had been set up so the First Lady could make some remarks, and the red security rope was lined with reporters and photographers. This was a rare opportunity to be allowed access to a military base during an actual combat deployment, and they were taking advantage of every moment.
“What horseshit,” Colonel Daren Mace muttered under his breath. He was watching a group of photographers being chased away from the outer gate of the alert-facility ramp as they tried to photograph the six nuclear-loaded RF-111G Vampire bombers and six KC-135E tankers inside. They were flashing authorization badges, but nothing they had allowed them to photograph the alert birds. “Just shoot ’em, sky cops,” Mace said. “Don’t send them away or arrest them, shoot ’em.”
“Pipe down, Colonel,” Colonel McGwire hissed at him. “They’re coming.”
As the Secret Service detail and Air Force security police surrounded the area, the First Lady stepped out of the first limousine, waving to the crowd. She was wearing a blue flight suit, given to her when she made a flight with the Air Force Thunderbirds the year before, under a winter-weight Arctic flying jacket with a fur hood. In the car with her was Major General Tyler Layton, commander of Fifth Air Battle Force, plus several Secret Service agents. In the second car was General Philip Freeman, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, along with Governor Samuel Bellingham of New York. The two senior officers joined in the applause of the crowd of guests observing this gathering as the First Lady and the Governor began to work the crowds.
The First Lady shook hands with a number of the dignitaries and friends arranged in front of the podium, then she stepped up to the podium and had General Freeman stand on one side and Governor Bellingham on the other. “Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen,” the First Lady began. “It’s very kind of you to come out on this beautiful but very cold morning to help me, General Freeman, and Governor Bellingham wish Godspeed and good luck to this exceptional group of airmen — and, not to be outdone or forgotten, airwomen—here this morning.”
She spoke in a cold, crisp tone for about five minutes, then got to the heart of the matter.
“I wanted to recognize one more extraordinary group here, and that’s the women of the 394th Air Battle Wing. It was just twenty years ago that the first woman pilot in the modern U.S. Air Force graduated from flight training, and only fifteen years ago when the first woman joined a Strategic Air Command combat crew, and only three years since all aviation positions were open to women. You are all witnesses to history in the making again, ladies and gentlemen, because this is the first overseas deployment of a combat-capable crew with women aviators in it, including America’s first woman combat pilot, Major Rebecca C. Furness, of the 715th Tactical Squadron ‘Eagles.’ “ The First Lady stopped to initiate the applause, then waved over to the RF-111G side. “Becky, where are you?” As scripted, Rebecca stepped forward onto the red carpet and waved to the crowd. The photographers went crazy trying to get a good shot of her.
The First Lady blew her a kiss and gave her a thumbs-up, then turned to the audience. “There are some who say that women aren’t good enough, that they can’t handle the pressure, that they don’t have the right stuff. Well, my friends, take a look at that woman, and her war machine. That’s an American pilot, the best of the best. Rebecca, Eagle Squadron, Griffin Squadron — good luck and Godspeed. God bless you all, and God bless the United States of America. Let’s all help get these professionals on their way, shall we?”