The Warbirds Read Free Page B

propositions. He’s always handled that well. My wife claims that I wouldn’t be half as restrained.” Fairly’s answer satisfied the colonel. Too many of the fighter jocks in his wing were getting caught up in the fighter pilot image and losing their way, finding sex, alcohol and general hell-raising more to their liking than the daily business of responsible flying. Locke looked worth saving.
    “OK, Mike, I’ll buy what you say. But I’m going to have to take some action. We need to put some salt on his tail and slow him down a bit. We’ve got to get his attention. Got any ideas?”
    “Well, sir, I’d recommend some strong words and putting him in the Barrel for a week. That would be the same as confining him to quarters and he’ll have to hang around the squadron without a chance to fly. He’ll get the message.”
    Shaw mulled over the suggestion for a few moments. His wing had a commitment to keep two aircrews on alert twenty-four hours a day. Two pilots and their wizzos, or more properly, Weapons Systems Officers (WSOs), had to be ready to man their aircraft within five minutes, ready to start engines. Because of the time requirement, the aircrews had to remain in the squadron or alert shack, and while there were eating and sleeping facilities available, it was very confining. Normally, two pilots and their backseaters would only stay on alert for twenty-four hours before someone else would replace them and go into the “Barrel.” One of the three squadrons would “pull” alert for a week, then pass it on to the next squadron.
    The crews had never been able to figure out exactly why the wing had an alert commitment. Since Maintenance only kept the twenty-millimeter cannon loaded and the aircraft were never launched, they did not see much senseto it all. There was one point of common agreement: they hated it.
    The look on Shaw’s face warned Fairly that the colonel wasn’t convinced. “Sir, outside of flying, there is not a hell of a lot for my troops to do around here. Keeping them busy on the ground is a real headache. Take away the chance to fly, and you’re really punishing them.”
    Fairly had touched on Shaw’s biggest morale problem: how to keep his people occupied in their spare time. It distressed the wing commander that it was affecting his pilots and wizzos. “OK, that’s what we’ll do,” he decided. “Bring him in.”
    Fairly checked the outer office and found the young lieutenant talking to the secretary. Typical, Fairly thought, he practices charming any available female. Jack Locke marched into the office and reported with a sharp salute. The wing commander kept him standing at attention for a full thirty seconds before returning his salute. Shaw sized Locke up, noticing his properly trimmed hair, brightly shined boots, and flight suit that was properly adjusted, probably within the last few minutes. He fits the image of a fighter pilot, Shaw decided: just under six feet tall, a trim and athletic build, clear blue eyes.
    “Lieutenant Locke, your conduct last night was reported on the Security Police blotter. It goes without saying that such actions cannot be tolerated and are unbecoming to an officer. I will not have my officers dancing bare-assed with young ladies around the BOQ. Especially a young lady who happens to be the ambassador’s daughter. Lewd conduct such as this is punishable by court-martial or nonjudicial punishment under Article Fifteen of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Granted, there are mitigating circumstances in this case. Since this is the first time you have been in trouble, I have little desire to end any career you might find in the Air Force.”
    Shaw paused, partly for effect. “No doubt, you are aware that the presence of the U.S. Air Force in Egypt is new and we are having a difficult time convincing the Egyptians that we belong in the Middle East. We are here to help encourage the hotheads to leave their neighbors in peace. Any publicity