The Battle Staff Situation Room was the hub of the Command Post during situations, whether real or simulated, where the wing commander and members of his staff met to coordinate the wartime actions of Ford Air Force Base's two thousand men and women, twenty B-52 bombers, and twenty-five KC-135 tankers. McLanahan knocked on the door.
'C'mon in, Patrick.'
Colonel Edward Wilder was seated behind the center desk in the Battle Staff office. Colonel Wilder, the commander of all the forces on Ford Air Force Base, looked about as old as a college freshman. He was tall, trim and fit from running marathons a few times a year, and had not a touch of gray in his light brown hair despite being well past forty. He stood, shook McLanahan's hand, and motioned to a thick, cushiony seat marked 'Vice Commander.'
Wilder poured two cups of coffee. 'Black, right, Patrick?'
Wilder asked, pushing the cup toward him.
'That's right, sir.'
'I should have that memorized by now,' the wing commander asked. 'I watched you put away enough of it during Bomb Comp. As he spoke, he pushed a button on his desk. A curtain over the window separating the Battle Staff Office from the communications center rolled closed on metal tracks.
Lieutenant Colonel Johannsen and the others glanced up at the moving curtain but quickly went back to their duties.
Colonel Wilder had a red-covered folder on his desk in front of him.
'I tried to get hold of you before your trainer began yesterday, but you had already started.'
'Yes, sir,' McLanahan asked. 'Major White's egress trainers are getting extremely realistic.'
'The guy is a basement inventor. A genius,' Wilder said.
'The small amount of money we could spare for White's group was the best money we ever spent. We may have created a monster, though.
McLanahan laughed, but it was short and strained. Wilder noticed the atmosphere, took a deep breath, and went on.
'Any idea why you're here this morning?'
I hate when they start out that way!McLanahan thought.
'No, sir,' he asked. 'I thought it might have something to do with an assignment.'
'It does, Patrick,' Wilder said. He paused a bit, looked at his desktop, then said, 'Good news. SAC Headquarters wants you.
Soonest.
Plans and Operations for the B-1 program.
Congratulations-that was my first Headquarters job, although I was with the B-52 program when that monster was the hot new jet.'
McLanahan shook Wilder's proffered hand. 'That's great, sir. Great news.'
'I hate to lose you, Patrick,' Wilder went on. 'But they're hustling you out pretty damned quick. Your reporting date is in three months.
McLanahan's smile dimmed a bit. 'That soon?For a Headquarters position?'
'It just came open,' Wilder explained. 'It's a great opportunity.'
Wilder studied McLanahan's face. 'Problems?'
'I need to discuss it with my family,' McLanahan said.
'It's a big step 'I need an answer now. It won't wait.'
McLanahan averted his eyes, then said, 'Sorry, Colonel. I have to discuss it with my family. If an immediate answer's required, I have to say-' 'Hold on, Patrick. Don't say it,' Wilder interrupted.
'Patrick, I'm not trying to blow smoke in your face, but you're the best navigator I've ever worked with in my eighteen years in the service. You're energetic, intelligent, highly motivated, and you have as much expertise in the inner workings of your profession as anyone else in the command. Your Officer Evaluations Reports have been firewalled to 'Outstanding' every year you've been in the service, and, for the last two years, I've had the unusual honor of being the lowest rater on your OERs because they've always gone up to a higher command level. This year it's gone up to SAC Headquarters, and we didn't even request it-the SAC Commander in Chief asked for it. Personally.
You'd be a real asset to the Plans people. 'Wilder punched a fist into an open palm in frustration, then looked at McLanahan. 'But you can't balk like this all the time. You have to grab at opportunities when you can.'
'Another one will come along 'Don't count on it, Patrick,' Wilder said quickly. He looked into McLanahan's puzzled eyes, then continued. 'I meant what I said. You're the best radar nav I've seen. The best.
But… you need to straighten up a little bit.
McLanahan glared at the wing commander. 'Straighten up?'
'C'mon, Patrick,' Wilder asked. 'Gary must've mentioned this to you.
Look at yourself. Most guys who go to see the commander polish their shoes, get a haircut, and wear a clean uniform. 'McLanahan said nothing, but crossed his arms impatiently on his chest.
'Your record outshines everyone else's, Pat… but the Air Force wants officers nowadays, not just… technicians.
They want guys who want to be professionals. You've got to look and act like a professional. Real all-around full-time officers, not part-time performers.'
Wilder opened a folder-McLanahan's squadron records.
'You finished your master's degree, and you're halfway through a second master's degree, but you have hardly any military education. It took you six years to finish a correspondence course that should only take twelve months. No additional duties. Your attitude toward- 'There's nothing wrong with my attitude, Colonel,' MeLanahan interrupted. 'I wanted to be the best. I worked hard to prove that I am. 'He paused, then said, 'I've been busy at the tavern. I- 'I don't doubt that, Patrick,' Wilder asked. 'I know your situation at home. But you need to make a commitment.'
Wilder stood and walked over to the aircraft status board covering a wall in the Command Post Battle Staff Situation Room. 'It's a different Air Force nowadays. You know that.
The way things are, Patrick, even just meeting standards won't get you anywhere. You've got to excel at everything…
and then some. And not just in your field of expertise.
'The so-called 'whole person concept,'' McLanahan said 'It may sound like b. s. to you, and to a lot of folks,' Wilder said, 'but it's still true. They want total immersernent nowadays. Being good…
hell, even being above average is the norm. I know you have the raw material to make that commitment, Patrick. You just need to make the decision. Yes or no.'
Wilder closed the folder. 'Well, that's enough of the party line,' he asked. 'Get back to me as soon as you've made your decision about the assignment. I'll work on keeping it open, but there are no guarantees.'
After a long moment, McLanahan got to his feet and s aid, 'Well, I hope that's all, sir, because I've got some thinking to do.
'I've got one more thing,' Wilder said, returning to his seat.
McLanahan did the same.
'It's the reason why we're meeting here, in the Command Post,' Wilder explained, 'and another reason why I need your answer to this assignment offer. I received an unusual request for a senior, highly experienced B-52 radar navigator to participate in an exercise. The message was highly classified!didn't think there was a classification higher than TOP SECRET, but there is. I had to receive the message from the communications center personally-in fact, they kicked everyone else out of the place but me. Anyway, naturally I thought of you.' 'Sure, why not?I'll do it,' McLanahan asked. 'What is it?
What kind of exercise?'
Wilder opened the red-covered file folder in front of him.
'I… I don't have any idea, Patrick,' he asked. 'I have very simple instructions. Can you be ready to leave in two days?'
'Two days,' McLanahan said. He thought for a moment.
'Well, it's not much time, but… sure I can leave. Leave for where?'
