Douglas McCampbell and Randy Cunningham, Jake Graf- ton and Rita Moravia and all the rest, all those who were only truly alive when they had a stick in their hand and the airplane was a part of them.
Finally she devoted her attention to the sky and the green earth spread out below. When he next looked at her she wore a gentle, contented smile. She seemed very much at peace.
I must always remember her this way, he thought, with the sun on her face and the blue sky behind her, happy and content?
The field at Rehoboth was grass. Toad held the plane off until the stall warning sounded, and after the main mounts kissed, he held the weight off the nose with full back elevator until he had slowed to the speed of a man walking.
Jake Grafton was leaning on the fence, watching them taxi in. Toad napped a hand. The captain waved back.
“Have a good flight?” Jake asked after Toad killed the engine and climbed out.
“The best. No lie, sir, this was the finest flight of my life.”
” ‘Lo. Rita. Was he safe?”
She laughed and grasped Toad’s hand. “I’ll fly with him any- time.”
At the Graftons’ house Callie led Rita upstairs, where she stretched out in Amy’s bed, at Amy’s proud insistence. Callie seized the girl’s hand and led her from the room, closing the door behind them. “You can visit with her all you want when she wakes. She’s very tired right now.”
“I’m going to be just like her when I grow up,” Amy announced, not for the first time.
“You already are, Amy. I think you’re sisters at heart.”
They had finished dinner and Jake and Toad were sipping coffee as Calhe, Rita, and Amy rinsed the dishes and arranged them in the dishwasher when the phone rang. Callie answered it in the kitchen, then stuck her head around the comer and said, “It’s for you, Jake.”
He took the call on the phone in the living room.
“Captain, this is George Ludlow. Sorry to disturb you at home.”
“Quite all right, sir.”
“Just wanted you to know- We have a new man ordered in as the prospective program manager. Rear Admiral Harry Church. He’ll arrive Wednesday. I want you to do the turnover by December 15?
“Aye aye, sir. But this is pretty quick, isn’t it? I’ve only been at this job nine months or so and am not due for orders for an- other—“
“You’re going to the staff of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. From your record, it looks as if you’ve never had a joint staff tour. CNO wants you to get one now so they can send you to a task group when you make rear admiral.”
“Rear admiral? I thought—“
“CNO thinks you’re flag material. For what it’s worth, two sena- tors and three congressmen have mentioned you to me this past month. They want to see your name on the flag list next year or the year after. I concur. Wholeheartedly, So does Royce Caplinger. The CNO personally picked this billet for you.”
After a few pleasantries, they said goodbye. Jake hung up, slightly stunned. Callie glanced at him and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but he shrugged and grinned. He would tell her later, when they were alone.
The phone rang again. “Is Amy there?” The voice was high, well modulated. David, from down the street.
“Amy, it’s for you.”
Jake resumed his seat at the table. He was only half listening when he heard Amy say, “I’ll have to ask my dad.” She held the phone at arm’s length and said loudly, “Jake, can I go over to David’s?”
“Sure. Be back in about an hour or so and you can go with us when we take Rita and Toad back to the airport.”
“Can David come too?”
“Yep.”
She held the phone to her ear. “My dad says I can come over. And you can go with us to the airport. See you in a sec.” She threw the instrument roughly onto its cradle and bolted, elbows flying.
”Wear your coat,” Callie called.
The youngster snagged the garment from the peg and charged for the door, yelling over her shoulder, “See you later, Rita.” The door slammed shut behind her.
“You get that?” Toad asked Jake with a grin. “Dad?”
“Yeah,” said Jake Grafton. He stretched hugely. “It’s a nice sound, isn’t it?”
One Thursday in February, Admiral Church, the new project man- ager, called Toad to his office. Tarkmgton was one of only three officers in the office this day: everyone else was somewhere in Texas or Nevada or over at the Pentagon. The first production A-12 was due to roll out next week and everyone was swamped with work. Although Washington was suffering one of its rare blizzards, the navy was steaming as before. The Metro wasn’t running and aB nonessential government employees had the day off. Only one of the civil service secretaries had made it to the office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. We got a call from the D.C. police. They would like one of the officers to drop by D.C. General this after- noon. If you can spare the time, would you go, please.”
“Yes, sir. Did they say what this is all about?”
“No, they didn’t But they wanted an officer from this unit. Ask for a Dr. Wagner. And brief me in the morning, will you?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
As Toad approached the reception desk at D.C. General Hospi- tal, he brushed the snow from his coat and shook the moisture from his cover. He explained his errand to the receptionist. She busied herself with the telephone buttons and he watched the flakes fall outside the front door while he absently pulled off his black leather gloves and placed them in the left pocket of his navy-blue bridge coat. The white scarf around his neck he folded and tucked into the other pocket. Finally he removed the coat and hung it over his arm. His hat he retrieved from the counter and held in his left hand.
“A navy officer…” the receptionist was telling someone. “… Dr. Wagner.”
The snow had been falling for two days. The sailor from Minne- sota who had driven him here had had numerous pithy comments about the locals’ ability to drive on icy, snow-packed streets- The hospital staff. Toad noted with a trace of satisfaction, was appar- ently as indifferent to the edicts of the transportation authorities as Admiral Church was.
‘Take the elevator on that wall. Third floor, turn left, then left again, fourth or fifth door on the right. I think.”
“I’ll find it.”
She smiled and fielded another phone call. Toad went to the bank of elevators and jabbed a button,
Wagner was in his early fifties, with thin, iron-gray hair and an air of nervous energy. He seemed fit and agile in spite of the rather prominent tummy he sported.
“You from the A-12 program?”
“Yessir.”
“Know why we asked you to come over?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
“Put your coat and hat on this chair. And do sit down.” Dr. Wagner befted a pile of files to make room, then quickly surveyed the office for an empty spot He placed the files on a corner of his desk, then took the remaining unoccupied seat. The chair behind the desk already contained a heap of paper a foot thick.
Wagner glanced at Toad’s uniform, then spoke- “Terrible weather. Plays havoc with the street people. Police and charities are scooping them up as fast as they can and bringing the ones in need of medical attention here.”
Toad nodded politely, wondering what this had to do with the navy.
“Got a case in last week during that terrible cold snap, those nights when it got down almost to zero. Just terrible.” He shook his head. “Wreck of a man. Had to amputate all his fingers and toes. Did save the stump of one thumb. He was dying of hy- pothermia, gangrene, and alcohol poisoning when the police found him. And we had to
