This Changes Everything

by Darrell Maloney

Some of his men weren’t happy about that, preferring to spend their off-time relaxing.

  But they understood why Frank made them earn their downtime, and were okay with it as long as they got to do both.

  Frank picked up the plastic pouch of peanut butter and examined it closely.

  The label said:

  BEST-MADE READY MEALS

  Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA

  It was a commercially made and sold version of the U.S. military’s MRE.

  Its buyers were probably preppers building up their food stores for the next natural disaster.

  Frank opened it up and squeezed some onto his finger, then sampled it.

  “Well I’ll be darned,” he exclaimed. “This is pretty good.”

  He asked everyone in the area where it came from.

  Crazy Eddie said, “I found those on one of the shelves.”

  “Really? Cool. Do you remember where you found them?”

  “Nope. That way somewhere.”

  That way somewhere was, of course, the entire warehouse.

  The real mission of Frank’s warehouse inventory project was to find Eddie’s elusive MREs, and to stuff the back of the Hummer with them.

  He wasn’t sure how long it would take him and Josie to travel from Plainview to Junction. It all depended on how good the roads were when they left and how much trouble they encountered along the way.

  Whether it took three days or three hundred, they’d need food to sustain them along the way.

  And these commercially-made MREs, originally manufactured for sale to preppers and survivalists, would do a good job of providing that sustenance.

  But only if Frank and Josie could find them.

  -36-

  At Wilford Hall Regional Medical Center in South San Antonio Major General John Stephens was sleeping peacefully in Room 401.

  But not for long.

  He was nearing the end of a rather randy dream in which he was chasing a leggy blonde in a pink bikini down a sandy beach in France.

  Thus far it was a PG-rated dream, but had the potential for getting a bit racy.

  For that reason and because the leggy blonde closely resembled his adjutant back at Hill Air Force Base in Utah, it was a dream he’d have to keep to himself.

  Then he heard a noise which woke him up and ruined everything.

  He opened his eyes to see Colonel Nate Sanders, the Medical Center commander, standing in the doorway.

  He wished he could close his eyes and return to his dream.

  The leggy blonde in the bikini was much prettier.

  But this might be important.

  Perhaps he’d return to the dream next time he slept.

  “Good morning, General Stephens,” Colonel Sanders said in a booming voice.

  “My apologies for waking you up so early, but I thought you might like to hear some good news.”

  Stephens said, “Let me guess, Colonel. I’m over the flu and ready to clear quarantine and you’re kicking me out of here this morning.”

  The colonel looked just a bit deflated.

  “That’s it exactly. But… how on earth did you know?”

  “This is the first time you’ve come to visit me without a mask and latex gloves, colonel. A dead giveaway.

  “I didn’t get these two stars on my shoulder for being stupid, you know.”

  “Yes, sir. I mean no, sir. I mean, of course not, sir.”

  Stephens smiled.

  “I’m impressed, Colonel. When I was admitted I asked you how long I’d be in quarantine. You said you couldn’t make any promises, but that you’d guess about ten days or so.

  “Today is the tenth day. You hit it right on the nose. Congratulations.”

  “I didn’t know you’ve been keeping track.”

  “Not much else to do locked up in a prison dressed up to look like a hospital, now is there?”

  “No sir. I suppose not.”

  The general softened a bit.

  He normally wasn’t so snarky.

  Most people considered him a very nice guy.

  Of course, nearly everybody is a bit on edge after being in the hospital for ten days.

  “I’m going to send in a nurse to go over your latest set of labs with you and to explain our discharge procedures. Once she’s finished she’ll give you about twenty minutes to get dressed, then she’ll come back to escort you out. I understand the base commander will have a car and driver waiting for you.”

  “Any idea where I’m going from here?”

  “The command post said the Staff Judge Advocate’s office. They’ll have an office suite waiting for you and a limited number of staff.”

  “Good. Thank you, Colonel.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. You said I’ve been cleared. Why does the nurse need to go over my vitals with me?”

  The doctor smiled.

  “Oh, it’s true your white cell count is back down in the normal range and all your flu symptoms are gone.

  “But we’d be remiss if we didn’t go over other things with you. Like, for example, your blood sugar and cholesterol levels are too high and your blood pressure concerns us a bit.”

  “Ah, yes. The usual warnings to change my eating and exercise habits before I wind up on a slab in the local morgue.”

  “Yes, sir. Something like that.”

  “You doctors are all alike, you know that?”

  “Yes sir. If you mean we all want to keep you as healthy as possible so you live as long as possible, you’re absolutely right.”

  He smiled a sweet smile. One of those “doctor” smiles which indicated resistance was futile, as were arguments.

  General Stephens nodded and accepted his fate.

  Generals got a lot of passes.

  Typically they didn’t have to do anything they didn’t want to do.

  They had maids to clean their houses for them, staff to do most of their paperwork for them. Landscapers to do their yard work for them, aides to wash their cars for them, even drivers to take them places.

  But in more ways than one would guess they were as human as anyone else.

  They still had to do their taxes and pay their bills.

  They still had to put their own pants on in the morning and take them off again in the afternoon, and make sure their zippers were zipped and their collars were buttoned.

  And they, like everyone else, still got lectured by doctors when they needed to eat better or lose a few pounds.

  Colonel Sanders shook the general’s hand and wished him well, then did an about face and walked out of the room.

  A nurse the general had never seen before was waiting in the doorway for her turn.

  In her hand was a handful of lab reports and discharge papers.

  The general groaned.

  The nurse smiled and said, “Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad. In just an hour or so you’ll be free to go wherever you want.

  “Colonel Sanders and I will still be stuck here with a hospital full of sick people.”

  -37-

  The nurse was true to her word.

  In just under an hour the general was rolled to the hospital entrance in a wheelchair.

  He didn’t particularly like that part, since he was perfectly capable of walking. But he accepted it was standard policy in every hospital he’d ever been a patient in so he didn’t complain much about it.

  He did, however, ask the nurse about the logic of it all.

  “It’s a CYA thing,” she said as she rolled him down a long corridor. “We know very well that you’re capable of walking. But then again, you have been lying in a bed for the last ten days. Your body has gotten out of the habit of taking long walks.

  “And let’s face it, General. You’re not as young as you once were. You’re what, forty five years old now?”

  “I’ll be sixty six in May, but I appreciate the flattery.”

  She smiled. She knew how old he was. She’d reviewed his chart at least once a day sinc
e his arrival.

  She went on.

  “The human body gets weaker after lying in bed for ten days. The brain gets used to having more than its usual share of blood because it’s no longer at the highest point of the body.

  “Other things happen too. The muscles start to atrophy just a bit. The circulation requirements change. The body gets used to a lower demand for oxygen.

  “When all of a sudden the body starts moving again after ten days it sometimes finds itself short on oxygen.

  “Sometimes one will get dizzy or see temporary flashes of darkness. You might be extraordinarily tired.

  “You might feel dizzy.

  “You might even pass out. Especially if you push too hard too soon.

  “And let’s face it, sir. Young and virile men such as yourself are notorious for ignoring doctors’ orders to take it slow and easy.

  “You’re much more likely to charge out of the gate like a bull that’d been penned up too long…”

  He finished the sentence for her.

  “…And you don’t want to be responsible if I pass out and hit my head and wind up right back in the hospital bed.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s exactly it. Hence the CYA.”

  “So… you don’t give a damn about me. You just want to ‘cover your asses’ so you don’t take the blame for my own stupidity.”

  “Precisely, sir. Thank you for understanding. You’re pretty smart for a general.”

  The two had developed something akin to friendship during his long stay in the hospital.

  Most people wouldn’t be able to get away with something bordering so close to insubordination, but the general took it in stride.

  “Well thank you for being so gosh-darned honest with me, Captain.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  “I especially enjoyed the ‘young and virile’ part.”

  “I thought you might, sir.”

  They arrived at the door and the nurse stopped the wheelchair.

  The general stood and his driver opened the rear door of a white-topped blue staff car.

  The general turned back to the nurse to say goodbye.

  “Well…”

  “Well what, sir?”

  “Well, this isn’t my first time as a patient in an Air Force hospital. Aren’t you going to give me the traditional speech?

  “You know… the one where you tell me it was a pleasure having me as a patient, but that you never want to see me again? Etcetera, etcetera…”

  “No, sir. I’m not gonna waste my breath. You wouldn’t listen to it anyway.”

  He smiled.

  She did as well.

  “You know what, Captain? You’re probably right.”

  She came to attention and rendered a sharp salute.

  He returned it, then turned and got into the vehicle.

  His driver got into the car and said over his shoulder, “I’ve been told to take you to your billeting room first, sir. Unless you’d like to go directly to the Staff Judge Advocate’s office.”

  “I know what billeting looks like, sergeant. Let me go get acquainted with my new staff.”

  -38-

  The United States Air Force has been around since 1947, and has always had a proud reputation for keeping its house in order.

  It was around during the world wars, of course, under other names. First, the U.S. Army Air Corps and then the U.S. Army Air Forces.

  It wasn’t until it was officially its own branch of the military that it decided to set itself apart.

  A big part of that was by maintaining its facilities in tip top shape.

  All branches of the service did a good job of maintaining its facilities, of course. But the Air Force seemed to take things one step farther.

  They had the strictest inspections in base housing.

  The sidewalks had to be cleanest. The lawns had to be shortest. The rocks in the flower beds had to be painted brightest.

  That’s right.

  Painted rocks.

  Sailors used to complain back in the “brown shoe Navy” when they had to paint anchors battleship gray.

  But they never painted rocks.

  Not until a fleet admiral from Pearl Harbor drove next door to Hickam Army Air Field one afternoon and looked down and said, “Hey, they paint their rocks. We should do that.”

  But the Air Corps did it first, they did it longer and they did it best.

  The Air Force inherited that tradition as well as many others.

  One policy hated by enlisted troops and loved by senior officers was the requirement on every Air Force base around the world to get rid of the snow and ice on its roadways and parking lots.

  Not just most of the snow and ice.

  All of the snow and ice.

  Not just the southern bases where it was easy.

  But northern tier bases as well.

  Bases as far north as Fairbanks, Alaska and Thule, Greenland.

  Every bit of ice, every snowflake, every day, every way.

  The Air Force way.

  It was snowing heavily the day Major General John Stephens arrived at Joint Base Lackland. He’d been taken directly to the hospital and could see no roadways from his hospital window. It overlooked the Basic Military Training School’s much-hated obstacle course instead.

  He’d been in the Air Force long enough to know the roadways would be cleared of everything right down to the pavement, but he was amazed to see a personal parking spot in front of the SJA office.

  A freshly painted personal parking space.

  The entire spot, directly adjacent to the handicapped parking, was a big rectangle of Air Force blue, with two very large white stars painted across the bottom.

  His first comment was, “Well, that’s pretentious as hell!”

  His driver pulled into the spot and snickered just a bit.

  But the general wasn’t finished.

  “And tacky as hell too.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Did you have anything to do with this, sergeant?”

  Staff Sergeant Jim Whitaker assured him, “No, sir. Absolutely not.”

  Then the general noticed the nameplate, hung on a sign directly in front of the space.

  “Reserved for MG John Stephens”

  The sign, again, was Air Force blue.

  Two white stars were centered just beneath his name.

  “I guess they just want to make you feel at home, sir.”

  The general huffed and puffed but said nothing else to the young staff sergeant.

  He’d hold his words until he got inside.

  He was greeted at the door by his adjutant, Captain Helen Swank.

  “Are you responsible for that sign and parking spot, Captain?”

  “No sir. That would be Major Bennett. He thought you might like it.”

  “I see. And is Major Bennett available?”

  “I believe so, sir. Right this way, please.”

  “General Stephens! Welcome to the Staff Jud…”

  “Major Bennett, are you responsible for that horrible parking spot and sign?”

  “Um… yes sir. I thought it would make you feel at ho…”

  “Two questions, Major. First, how did you get the paint to stick on wet and frozen pavement?”

  “Heated blowers, sir. But it took four whole days for the paint to dry…”

  “And how soon can you get rid of that eyesore? People already think of flag officers as pretentious jerks. I’ll not further that opinion.”

  “Um… yes, sir. I’ll have it sandblasted by the end of the day.”

  “Thank you, major. I want to blend in here, not stick out like a sore thumb. That’s what’ll make me feel at home.”

  “Yes, sir. I just thought…”

  “No explanation necessary, major. I understand. You wanted to roll out the red carpet, show some Texas hospitality.

  “Ordinarily, I’d have no problem with such a thing.

  “But I’m not here to celebrate anything. Or t
o hand out medals, or to recognize anybody for something good they’ve done.

  “Heck, I wish I were here for something like that. I like to shake hands and to tell people they’ve done a good job and to recognize their achievements. Those are the fun visits.

  “This one is to determine whether two of our own are traitors. If we find that they are we’re going to take their lives, and their names will forever be stains on the United States Air Force.

  “There’s nothing fun or celebratory about this visit and it shouldn’t be portrayed that way. This visit is about business. Strictly business, and an unpleasant business at that.”

  “Yes, sir,” the major said a bit sullenly. “I’ll have the spot sandblasted by the end of the duty day.”

  And that was the way Major General John Stephens made his official arrival at Joint Base Lackland: full of spit and fire and ready to get down to business.

  -39-

  Captain Swank, Stephens’ adjutant, stood by in silence and waited her turn to speak.

  By the time the general made his point he was a bit red in the face and flustered.

  Still, she got the sense he wasn’t angry.

  A bit irritated, perhaps. But not angry.

  The major disappeared and Stephens turned to Captain Swank.

  “I’ve heard rumors, Captain, that I’ve been loaned a bit of workspace around here.”

  She snapped to attention.

  “Yes, sir. If you’ll follow me I’ll show you to your office suite.”

  The pair walked down the corridor without a word.

  Halfway down Swank entered a room marked by a small sign:

  Distinguished Visitor

  Major Gen John Stephens

  It was a simple sign, hand painted in white letters over wood panel.

  It was considerably less pretentious than the gaudy parking sign and a fraction of its size.

  Definitely more to the general’s liking.

  He followed her through the door and a graying man stood from behind the wooden desk centered in the room.

  Captain Swank introduced them.

  “General, this is Pietro D’Ambrosio, your personal secretary.”

  Mr. D’Ambrosio held out his hand. The general took it.