Later that day slightly more than four hundred officers crowded into the Officers’ Club, answering the summons of their new commander. Doc Landis found a seat at the front of the room next to Mike Fairly and Jack Locke and introduced himself.
“Arrived two days ago,” Landis said. “I think I’m the flight surgeon for the 379th. Isn’t that your squadron?” Fairly nodded. “I’m looking forward to flying with you. I’ve never flown in a fighter before.”
Jack studied the flight surgeon, noting his new uniform and rank. An odd-looking duck, he thought. The doctor’s body was almost pear-shaped. His soft face, large brown eyes and gently curling brown hair made him look like a misshapen doll. The lieutenant doubted Landis would fly much beyond the minimum flight surgeons were required to fly.
“Seats, please, ladies and gentlemen,” Colonel Morris commanded as he entered and mounted the stage. “I’ve called you together so there will be no misunderstandings about my policies. As your new commander I’m going to require that each of you lives up to the standards of professionalism the Air Force expects of its officers. What I saw yesterday and today does not impress me. We’ve got a long way to go. The 45th Tactical Fighter Wing may be basically sound, but it is unpolished. We are going to change that, starting now. For example, the standards of military dress and bearing on this base are the pits. You’ve all read Air Force Manual 35–10 on dress and appearance. Make your troops conform. I know tomorrow is Sunday, but I want this base to shine when we come to work on Monday. This base will be a home we can be proud of. The march-by this afternoon was the sloppiest I’ve ever seen. We are going to practice marching. Every Friday evening we’ll have a retreat ceremony in front of wing headquarters. The hospital tells me six airmen passed out on the ramp during the parade. That was due to poor physical conditioning. Get your people in shape. Questions?”
Landis looked around, decided to speak up. “Excuse me, sir, I’m Doc Landis, one of your flight surgeons. The reason those six airmen passed out on the ramp was heat prostration, not poor physical conditioning. Five of them are new to the base and not used to the heat, the other one has high blood pressure.”
Morris looked at the doctor, voice tight. “First, you are Lieutenant Colonel Landis, not ‘Doc’ You are not in a MASH outfit. Let’s cut the bullshit camaraderie. Second, I don’t argue with my officers.”
Landis kept his voice under control. “Sir, the sun and heat would argue with you,” and sat down. Jack decided that he’d misjudged the new doctor.
“Doctor,” Morris said, “I admire your concern for the men and women of this base. I share that concern. I also have a long memory.” He signaled his protocol officer to call the room to attention as he exited.
Fairly held out his hand to Landis. “Welcome to Alex South, Doc. I hope we can get a chance to see you around the squadron and get you hooked up on some flights.” They shook hands. “What do you think of our new commander?”
“Mike,” the doctor said, “if I were a shrink I’d say he is scary, egotistical and ambitious. To use military jargon, I think you’d call him a ‘they.’ First one I’ve met… ”
The next day Fairly and Locke were ordered to report to the wing commander’s office at 1400 hours. When they arrived they found a line waiting to see Morris, including Colonel Hawkins, the deputy for Operations and their immediate superior, who joined them as they entered Morris’s office.
“Let’s make this quick,” Morris said. “I’ve read the after-action report on the Grain King incident. It is not my intention to discuss the wisdom of engaging the MiGs. Too late for that. But one thing stands out. Stinger flight penetrated the Libyan border, which means one thing: you were lost. That is unacceptable and we are going to take corrective action. Lieutenant Locke, you were flight lead at the time of the penetration, so the responsibility falls on you and your WSO. Colonel Hawkins, what is the current flying status of Lieutenant Locke and Captain Bryant?” Spoken as if Jack wasn’t in the room.
“Locke has been checked out as a flight lead, and Bryant is an instructor WSO and the chief of the life-support section,” the DO answered, his lined and weathered face not revealing his inner rage at what Morris was doing.
“I see. For corrective action Lieutenant Locke is reduced to wingman status and is not a flight lead. He will reenter the checkout program to be upgraded to lead status,” Morris said, still ignoring Jack’s presence in the room. “Remove Bryant from instructor status and as chief of life support. Replace him with an officer capable of being both a WSO and in charge of a section.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Jack said. “Thunder… Captain Bryant… is an outstanding wizzo. The best I’ve ever flown with. He doesn’t deserve that. He was doing other things besides navigating during the engagement with the MiG—”
“Lieutenant Locke, I’ll excuse your lack of courtesy because of your rank. I will not excuse Captain Bryant’s poor airmanship. He was lost. I want pros on my team.”
“Sir, where I came from a pro is a whore.”
Morris looked directly at Jack, then dismissed him. After Jack had gone, Morris leaned back in his chair and stared at the two standing men. “I would suggest you instill more respect in your men. You get my meaning.”
Fairly said, “Sir, may I ask you to reconsider your corrective actions?”
“Why?”
“Because it sends the message to every pilot and wizzo in the wing that the fight is not the most important thing, even after they’ve been cleared to engage. Sir, they’ve got to want to tangle, to meet the threat head-on. True, they’ve got to worry about fuel, navigation and survival. But most important, they’ve got to want to blow the other guy away. Otherwise they’re not fighter pilots—”
“Colonel Fairly, what you do not understand is that an aircrew is responsible for all its actions. Everything they do must be deliberate and considered. My decision stands.”
Hawkins stopped Fairly in the hall just outside his own offices. “Tell your troops to go low profile. I’ll run cover as much as I can but I can’t do a damn thing for them if they’re setting off fireworks. I’ll tell the other two squadrons.”
“I guess I didn’t handle that very well,” Fairly said. “I feel like I let Jack and Thunder down. My job is training my pilots and wizzos to be tigers, willing to take on all comers. Now I’ve got to teach them to turn it off.”
“You’ve got that right,” Hawkins said. “You’ve also got to teach them one more thing: survival.” He turned and entered his office.
Lieutenant Colonel Fairly walked back to his squadron, trying to decide what to say to Jack and Thunder. He hoped the two would understand his position, their position, and go low profile the way Hawkins had advised. He decided to speak to them together and be as open and honest as he could. At least Thunder would understand, he thought, as he entered the squadron, glad to escape the heat after the long walk. The duty officer handed him a note, asking him to call Chief Pullman ASAP. What now? The chief answered on the first ring.
“Brace yourself, Colonel,” Pullman said. “Colonel Morris has just finished talking to the Judge Advocate. He wants to court-martial Lieutenant Locke for insubordination and disrespect toward a superior officer. At least the lawyers want to look into it before they commit. But that still means an Article Thirty-two pre-trial investigation. My best guess is they’d rather represent Locke. But they can do just so much… ”
“Chief, I appreciate the call. I owe you.” Fairly paused before committing himself. Goddamn, it was time to choose up sides. “It seems it’s going to be us against him. Thanks again, Chief.”