will start asking some intelligent questions. Like what the devil is a carrier battle group doing way the hell out here? But in the meantime, we have to do our part to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“What the hell happened with the helo’s IFF?” Batman wanted to know.
“As near as we can tell, no one bothered to tell us that a couple of Army helos had been sent into Georgia to work with the UN team.”
“I thought the Navy was supposed to be handling no-fly zone security?”
Garrity said.
Tombstone shrugged. “You know how it goes. One service gets a plum assignment, and suddenly everyone wants a piece of the action.”
“Grenada,” Coyote added, and Tombstone nodded.
That monumental foul-up was still a reminder ? and a warning ? of how not to conduct joint military operations. When America decided to invade the tiny Caribbean country in 1983, the op had started off as a relatively small mission. Then invasion fever had started spreading through the Pentagon. One service after another had wanted in… as did each of the elite combat units within the larger branches. The SEALS. Delta Force. Army Special Forces. No one knew what anyone else was doing, radio frequencies and call signs weren’t distributed to the proper people, and in one classic case of idiocy, orders describing an air assault gave a time but failed to say whether that was EST, GMT, or local time.
A lot of Americans died unnecessarily in that invasion.
Tombstone let out a sigh. “Okay, people. There will be no disciplinary action from my office. I should warn you all, though, that I don’t have the last say here. Depending on how big a noise this makes with the brass Stateside, or with the news media, there could be a further investigation.”
“You mean we’re still on the hook,” Batman said. He looked resigned.
“What do you want us to do, CAG?”
“First thing, I want reports. All four of you get a complete report on the incident done and on my desk by 1600 hours. And I mean complete. I don’t want excuses, but I damn sure do want anybody who reads these reports to know what we’re going through to police these damned zones. We’ve got Zoos and helos…”
“And bears, oh my,” Cat Garrity put in with a grin.
Tombstone caught Batman’s eye and smiled. “No, thank God, no Bears this time.” Both men had been through some harrowing encounters with the Russian aircraft code-named Bears. As a matter of fact, the first time Magruder had ever chewed out Batman Wayne was over a Bear hunt, back when Tombstone was the squadron CO and Batman a young hot dog just joining the squadron. Some things, it seemed, never changed. He let the smile drop. “Next. Dixie, I’m taking you off the zone patrols for a few days. You’ll be limited to flying CAP until further notice.”
“Sir-“
“No arguments. I know your record; I know you think you’re the hottest pilot Viper Squadron’s ever seen; I know how much you want to be out there. But until this has a chance to settle out, I don’t want you in the no-fly zone.” He looked at Batman. “You’ll see to the scheduling?”
“Aye, aye, CAG,” Wayne said. He sounded unhappy.
“All right, then. Case closed, at least for the moment. You’re all dismissed.”
The four from Bird Dog Flight filed out of the office, but Coyote didn’t leave. “You have a problem?” Magruder asked him when the door closed behind Garrity.
“More than you can imagine,” Grant said. “But a couple of immediate concerns. Don’t you think you could’ve been a little nastier? Like maybe call off Christmas or something?”
“We’ve had this talk before, Will,” Magruder said with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair. “CAG staff’s not like being in the squadron, not even like being squadron CO. You know how I feel about Batman and Malibu. And those two kids are going to be hot when they get some seasoning, as good as we ever were.”
“Better, maybe.”
“Maybe. But I can’t be their buddy anymore. Neither can you. our responsibility isn’t to the individuals, or to the squadron. it’s to the whole Air Wing, to the Jefferson, and to the mission. If this incident had resulted in Americans being killed due to friendly fire, I’d’ve been forced to recommend relieving them of duty. A court of inquiry. You think I’d want something like that hanging over Batman? Next to you, he’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“I don’t like it much,” Coyote said quietly. “Sometimes I think I wasn’t cut out for this staff shit. Maybe I should’ve turned you down.”
“You can’t sit in the cockpit forever, Coyote,” Tombstone told him. He jerked a thumb at a mug that sat on the corner of his desk. A dozen cigars stuck out of it, still in their original wrappings. They had belonged to Tombstone’s predecessor as CAG, the man who’d taught him at Top Gun school years before. He kept them on his desk as a reminder of the lessons the man had taught him, both at Top Gun and later, when Magruder was his Deputy CAG and Jefferson was sailing into the Norway crisis. “Stinger Stramaglia made my life a living hell when I was his deputy. But he also taught me that if I didn’t grow I’d end up being left behind. The first time I realized just how big this damned job was I almost cracked. All I wanted was a chance to strap on a Tomcat and go up with the Vipers again. Trouble is, that isn’t an option. Sometimes you have to sit behind the desk and cope with all the petty little details so the other guys can get in the air.”
“I’m just not sure I can cut myself off from everything that’s gone before,” Grant told him. “I’m not a machine.”
“Neither am I. I’m worse. I’m the CAG.” Magruder looked away. “You said there were a couple of things bothering you. What else?”
Coyote frowned. “Just wondering if you knew what you were doing with Mason.”
“By rights, I should’ve grounded him. I have the impression he saw exactly what he wanted to see out there, and we damn near lost an American air crew. I took it easy on him because… well, because I’m not a machine. He’s got the makings of a good aviator, but he needs some drudgery to put things into perspective.”
“I read his file. He’s got friends in high places.” Magruder raised an eyebrow. “His sponsor when he applied to Annapolis. Sammie Reed represented his district and made the recommendation.”
“Well, well. Our brand-new Secretary of Defense.” Magruder shrugged.
“If I read Mason, he isn’t the sort to run for help just because he gets his ears pinned back.”
“Yeah, but you know how these things get out. He mentions it in a letter, somebody back home gets outraged, phone calls get made…”
“You really think it could be a problem?”
“Come on, Stoney, wake up and smell the avgas! George Vane resigned as Secretary of Defense because of policy disagreements with the President. Mostly the Kola deployment, but also all the damned social experiments. Our new fearless leader doesn’t share any of his reservations. Look at Directive 626.”
“I try not to,” Tombstone said wryly. Directive 626 was a new order from the upper levels of the Pentagon requiring women in combat units to be worked into command slots on a quota basis, regardless of relative seniority or experience. The Air Wing had been forced to make a number of adjustments to accommodate the order, and it was one more blow to the unit’s morale. “And Mason?”
“Is a minority, in case you were too color-blind to notice it. Sam Reed would love to have a cause like that to get behind if it would make the Navy look bad. You remember the trouble a couple of years back? The Top Gun graduation?”
Magruder nodded. Before moving to the cabinet, Reed had been on the House Armed Services Committee, one of the liberal voices pushing hard for unpopular reforms in the military. After the committee had recommended relaxing the standards for female pilots to compete for slots at Top Gun and other advanced schools, a graduating class had displayed banners calling Reed some extremely derogatory names. That had sparked an ongoing feud between Reed and the Navy, particularly in Naval Aviation.
Now Samantha Reed was America’s first female Secretary of Defense, and she was well placed to carry on that feud.
Magruder frowned for a moment, then shook his head. “I appreciate the advice, Coyote. I really do. But I’ll take my chances on this one. If I have to look at an officer’s gender or color or sexual preferences before I can hand down discipline I might as well just pack it in. If Madam Secretary Reed wants my head, she can have it… but she can’t make me screw up this unit in the name of political correctness.”
