“I suppose it doesn’t matter what he wears on his shoulders, as he won’t be giving orders.”
“That’s correct but the real concern was his receiving orders from students.”
“Excellent point. Sir Richard, do you have anything to add?”
“Sir I hope you aren’t planning on enrolling at Oxford in the near future.”
He got a befuddled look and then laughed, “Young man I think you will do just fine. Now, Group Captain Carstairs here will set you up with your British budget and promotion orders, along with your official orders.”
This took the better part of an hour. This gave me some time to think.
I told the General I had to make a private call. Upon inquiry, I was escorted to an empty office. I placed a call using my code words to the White House. Ike was not available but his Chief of Staff heard me out.
“Richard we will look into this, on the surface it seems like a good program but when the Pentagon gets done with it, it could be a nightmare. Please keep me posted, as a matter of fact, would it be too much to ask for a private report every other week?”
“I can do that. As a matter of fact, I would prefer it.”
Another Boy Scout lesson, when on a camporee, and other troops can affect your plans, keep the Scout Master up to date. Without his input, I got talked into taking a campsite infested with fire ants. Never again! What had started out simple now had me ranked equal to a full Colonel in the Air Force.
The General told me that his call to the Pentagon had thrown the cat amongst the pigeons as this had become a project with high political visibility. There would be several people angling to shove us aside and take it over. Just the fact this had the direct approval of the Queen had them wetting their pants.
I never figured that out. Almost all Americans were interested in British Royalty and would give them undue respect. Who won the Revolution anyway? I tried to see both sides of the picture as I represented both sides but it was still confusing at times.
I decided to come clean with General Sullivan he had been straight with me.
“It has been arranged that I will submit a report to the White House Chief of Staff every two weeks, I will copy the Queen and the Prime Minister if she directs it.”
The General took a long hard look at me, “You are much more than you seem. It is like you have been playing these games for years.”
“A little.”
At the same time, I thought about tossing the heads of KGB agents over their embassy fence.
“A little.”
What was going to be a relaxing time prior to classes resuming, turned into a whirlwind. On Tuesday our first stop was the Bursar’s Office where I shared a copy of my orders. He thought them most irregular and not the way things were done at Oxford. They would have to form a committee and discuss the issue and make decisions on how to proceed. He was confident that it could be brought to a conclusion by the end of the next school year.
I asked him if there were any objections to me taking surveys to find out how many students were involved and what issues may arise. He didn’t see a problem with that.
From there I flew the General back to London. General Sullivan told me that now I had to be patient and let the system work. The USAF would send out surveys to all the students on their list and would I please talk to my contact at Whitehall to do the same for all their enrollees.
The interesting part of that was that a contact at Whitehall had not been established. Whilst in London I called Mr. Norman who told me he would find out who I was to liaise with at Whitehall. On my flight home, I thought about what had been set in train. Between the University, the Pentagon, and Whitehall it would be next year before anything could happen. That didn’t sit well with me.
One thing did move quickly, my promotion, and written orders. They arrived on Wednesday at The Meadows, sent by special messenger. Neat, a message by a special messenger to a Senior Queens Messenger. Typical bureaucratic idiotic solution. Someone should write a book about such things.
At least now I had something to show people that I was legitimate.
I drove down to my on-campus garage room and walked over to Mrs. Butler’s door. She was home and had time for me. I told her I had to find a meeting room for about eighty people and asked if she could suggest anywhere. If anyone in Oxford knew, she would. I had to pay for my answers by sharing what was being thought of. Gossip was her stock in trade.
She had several suggestions. The one I liked the most was a large Pub. It had a meeting room in the back. It was only several blocks away so I walked over to the Ugly Cow. Who thinks of these names?
I arranged to rent the backroom for Saturday evening. There would be one hour of free beer from seven to eight o’clock. If free beer wouldn’t get students to come nothing would. This would be all out of my pocket unless I could get it reimbursed by one of the military groups. Fat chance of that.
I then stopped at a printer and had a rush job on a flier. It basically said free beer for one hour (7 to 8) on Saturday night in the backroom of the Ugly Cow. Must show military ID to enter.
With these in hand, I walked
