Air Force Eagles Read Free

tall, slender man, impeccably dressed, flowed into the room as silently as a Wodehouse butler. He set down a bulging leather briefcase on the polished wood floor, folded his arms across his chest, and stood looking at them as if he were impressing their image on his mind forever.
    Bandfield understood why Varney was impressed. Ruddick's entrance had not been theater but presence; there was an electric aura of power about the man. He was handsome in the manner of an aging Hollywood star, with thinning curly gray hair, perfectly cut, a contrast to his bushy eyebrows, which seemed to range forever across his broad brow. As he gazed at them his aquiline nose quivered slightly, as if he were sniffing out their personalities, while behind his wire-rim glasses his eyes were thin blue shields, as cold as liquid oxygen.
    Suddenly he stuck out his hand in Bandfield's direction and with that simple movement seemed to change his whole persona from master inquisitor to lifetime friend. "Nice to see you, General Varney. And this must be Colonel Bandfield. I've heard a lot about you from your old friend, General Caldwell."
    They sat down and Ruddick drawled, "I greatly admired Henry. Look there." He pointed to a photograph on the wall of President Roosevelt pinning on Caldwell's third star. "There I am, in the background."
    His voice seemed very familiar; Bandfield tried to place it as Ruddick fixed him with a benevolent grin.
    "And that's where I want you to work for me, in the background."
    "Yes, sir, just tell me what you want me to do."
    Ruddick confided, "First of all, let me tell you why I'm so supportive of the services, particularly the air forces. I always wanted to fly myself, but didn't have the time or money. Both my son Bob and my son-in-law are pilots. Bob flew McNaughton Sidewinders during most of the war."
    Bandfield shook his head. "And he lived through it? He must be damn good to survive a tour on McNaughtons. Troy McNaughton should have been prosecuted for sabotage at the least, and maybe for murder."
    Varney turned ashen and Bandfield knew that he'd said the wrong thing. Yet Ruddick's manner did not change, his tone still johnnycake and honey.
    "Now, I'm right sorry to hear that, Colonel Bandfield. Troy McNaughton's always been a good friend of my colleague, Congressman Dade, and I admire them both. And my dear son, Bob, swears by McNaughton aircraft—he wants to fly one in the Cleveland races someday. I hope your feelings won't affect your objectivity."
    Ruddick lowered his head so that his eyes popped up owlishly over the top of his glasses to stare at Bandfield as he smiled. In the background Varney was white-faced and shaken.
    "Sorry, Mr. Congressman, I meant no offense. If your son liked McNaughtons, they are probably better airplanes than I thought they were."
    Ruddick purred, "Let's change the subject. How much do you know about the Gillem Report?"
    "I've read a little about it—it's a recommendation on how best to utilize Negro servicemen, isn't it?"
    "It's more than that—it's an attempt to bring about integration in a practical way. But most people don't like it. The services say it goes too far, and the coloreds, especially the NAACP, say it doesn't go far enough."
    A skeptical look crept across Bandfield's face. "How do you feel about it?"
    Ruddick glanced at Varney. "Well, you warned me that he was very straightforward." Then, "Colonel Bandfield, what do you think a man who represented the people of Little Rock in Congress for sixteen years feels about integration?"
    "You're against it."
    "To be honest, I am not, personally. I think it's inevitable, but not in my lifetime. My former constituents are against it one hundred percent, but I have to determine what's best for the service."
    He spoke without bombast; it was a statement of political fact, but Bandfield was always suspicious of people who used the phrase "to be honest"—more often than not it meant they were lying.
    "How do you see my role? I