The Cadet

by Doug Beason

  Rod drew in a deep breath. “The most important thing in my life right now is to graduate. This is going to be a tough few months. I don’t have time for much else.”

  Julie stared. “You have time for your classmates but not me?”

  He swallowed hard. “That’s different. We just can’t spend as much time together as we had in the past.” He held her hand. “This is serious. They’re threatening to kick me out.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “What about a compromise? You could study Sundays, and still spend Saturday with me. That will give you a whole day to yourself.”

  Rod shook his head. “That’s not enough. I need more time than that. A lot more.” He hesitated. “How about dinner on Saturdays? I have to eat sometime, and the break would do me good. What do you say? I know it sounds like a long time to spend apart, but it’s only four more months until the end of the semester.”

  “Sixteen weeks of Saturday dinners! That’s crazy—four months is two times longer than we’ve known each other, all so you can hang out with the boys.” She rummaged in the seat. Seconds later she pulled on her blouse and opened the door to the back seat. She slipped outside, allowing in a blast of cold air.

  Rod quickly pulled on his tie and jacket, and then met her around the back of the vehicle. She sat on the trunk, her scarf crooked around her neck. He pushed up on the trunk; they sat without speaking.

  They were parked under a grove of trees by the field house, overlooking the athletic fields. The sky was slightly overcast, and without a moon they could barely see. Someone ran around the track at the far end of the field, and two other cars were parked at the other end of the parking lot, giving them privacy. It was a warm Saturday night for January, although it was probably in the low forties. Julie shivered and kept her arms tight around herself.

  Rod tried to cover her with his jacket, but she slid away. Her teeth chattered.

  He waited a moment. “Julie. You’re going to catch cold without a coat.”

  “Does this mean we’re finished?”

  “No, we’re not finished,” he said. “And stop acting like a kid.”

  “Who’s acting like a kid? You live with your classmates, room with them, but you just said you don’t have any time for me. Sounds like your priorities are screwed up.”

  He scooted next to her again and opened his coat. This time she didn’t move away, so he swept his jacket around her and pulled her close. Shivering, she kept her arms crossed. Minutes later they both slowly warmed up.

  “I need to study,” Rod said. “If I’m going to graduate next year, I have to pass. This isn’t a normal university—I have to participate in squadron activities, do things with my classmates. It’s as simple as that.” But he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

  “I suppose so, but it has to be more than dinner once a week.”

  “I … I don’t see how. I want to fly. I want an Air Force career, and graduating from the Academy’s first class is a really big deal. It’s going to take every second of my life trying to catch up over the next four months.” Why can’t I have you as well? But he knew the answer: Captain Ranch would be looking over his shoulder, and the second he thought Rod was slipping, he’d restrict him for the rest of the semester.

  He turned back to Julie. She wiped her eyes.

  He nudged her. “Look, it’s not the end of the world. You’re in your final semester, and when we get the chance to see each other, it will be that much better. I just can’t afford to go out any more right now.”

  “So that’s it? One dinner a week.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you expect me to wait around for you, like … like one of those dutiful Air Force wives.”

  He hesitated. Maybe he was going overboard. Yet, Captain Ranch had been clear.

  “Julie—” He tried to pull her closer, but she resisted.

  She wrapped her arms around her and walked briskly to the driver’s seat. “I have to leave. So you can spend more time with your classmates.”

  She slammed the car door and started the engine.

  Standing next to the driver’s side, Rod tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t lower the window. Steam covered the glass and he couldn’t see in.

  With a jerk, the car moved in reverse; hot air billowed from the tailpipe. She pulled back and with screeching tires, left.

  Rod stood in the parking lot, alone. He waited a moment, watching Julie’s red taillights disappear down the road as she drove off the Academy grounds.

  It was suddenly quiet; Rod heard someone laugh in the distance.

  He zipped up his coat and trudged across the athletic field, taking a shortcut to the dorm. He knew it had been the right thing to do, but he felt miserable. He wished it didn’t have to be this way; he hoped he hadn’t lost her forever.

  He glanced at his watch. It was early, and he still had time to study.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty

  “Rebel-’Rouser”

  April, 1958

  1,000 feet over the USAF Academy Construction Site

  Colorado Springs, CO

  A youth to whom was given so much of earth—so much of heaven, and such impetuous blood.

  —William Wordsworth, “Ruth”

  Rod looked out the side window as the small plane banked over the Academy site. Although the sky was clear and blue, it continuously bumped as they encountered thermals rising up from the ground.

  “Do you want to talk about it, lad?” Hank McCluney broke the silence. The engine droned in the background.

  Rod shook his head and turned from looking down at the new Academy campus. He realized that he hadn’t so much been looking at the buildings as he’d been lost in his thoughts.

  And the last thing he wanted was another lecture from his father.

  The late afternoon sun glinted off the top of the academic building at the east end of campus. Running north-south, the six-story building made the top part of a giant L; the bottom of the L, pointing west, was comprised of the massive, quarter-mile-long dorm.

  They flew in a long racetrack pattern over the campus. The middle part of the cadet area—the Terrazzo—was still under construction. Piles of snow from a spring storm had been pushed to the side; stacks of marble tile were ready to line the Terrazzo.

  The Saturday afternoon sun set over the Rampart Range, and although it was still early, mountain shadows crawled toward the eastern plains.

  Hank kept his hands on the controls and looked outside, ever watchful as he used the mechanism with his right hand to supplement the rudder that he couldn’t control with his missing foot. “Are you sure you can’t stay the night?”

  “I have to get back and study. Finals are coming up in a month, and the instructors are loading it on. I can’t let up now.”

  “You studied all spring break, lad,” Hank said, slipping into his Scottish burr. Rod noticed he did that when he was being protective. “You should try skeet shooting with your mother. That will relax you. She’s become quite the marksman with her shotgun.”

  “I said I have to get back. Captain Ranch told me I have a shot of becoming Squadron Commander next year if I bring my grades back up; and my combined military and academic grades count toward getting the Air Force base I want for pilot training.”

  Banking over the campus, Hank pointed at a white-tailed mule deer that walked slowly across the construction site; three other deer were in the bush. After a moment they followed the first into the open. A buck moved stealthily in the brush, trying to keep out of sight.

  “Luck be with you then,” Hank said. “You’re certainly working hard enough.”

  Rod looked to the side and muttered, “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

  Hank glanced at his son, then back out the cockpit window. “How’s that?”

  “I wonder if I’m really getting what I want.” Rod grew quiet. He knew he was doing the right thing, concentrating on studying, military duties. He’d pulled himself out of a
n academic hole, just as he was at the precipice of being a senior, a Firstie.

  Yet he still yearned for something else, to make a difference. Once, Julie had filled his physical need; but she’d been demanding, all consuming—almost like alcohol to a drunk. Now she’d refused to return his calls the past three months, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to temper her possessiveness if he ever saw her again.

  Hank broke the silence, “What do you want to do with your life, lad?”

  Rod caressed his own yoke. “I’ve told you, I want to fly.”

  Hank nodded at Rod’s hands on the wheel. “You’re already a pilot.”

  “I want to be a real pilot. Go through Air Force flight training.”

  “And after that?”

  Rod hesitated. “I want to make a difference … leave my mark on history.”

  Hank’s eyebrow shot up. “Such as?”

  Rod wished he’d let up, but he knew his father wouldn’t. It reminded Rod of the time when he was younger, when they had driven to the Salton Sea, east of LA. Motorboats skimmed the surface of the man-made lake. Cloudless blue sky covered the desert, and the sun reflected off the sand, baking them as if they were in an oven.

  Rod had wanted to ski so badly that the first time he’d fallen, he bounced right back up and tried it again. After falling several more times, he was ready to throw in the towel, call it quits, and be content with staying in the boat while his mom skied. But Hank had smiled that same, irritating smile and had urged him to keep trying: Don’t quit. You don’t know when you’ll be back here—if ever, lad. Never give up.

  Rod drew in a breath. “I’m not sure, but it has to do with flying.”

  “Aye, then you’ll do well. You’ve always achieved what you wanted.” They flew in silence for several minutes. “I understand you’re getting your class ring next month.”

  “The ring committee is going all out, throwing a banquet and a formal dance.”

  “It’s important to do things right when you’re setting a precedent. Your class is stepping up to quite a bit of responsibility. Are you attending the activities?”

  “The banquet? Sure.”

  “What about the ring dance?”

  Rod shrugged. “Probably not.”

  “You’re not taking Julie? I thought this was a major event.”

  Rod felt uneasy. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Hank lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? You just said the ring committee is going all out. It sounds to me that the Academy’s first formal ring dance will be the social event of the year.”

  “Well, it’s not to me.”

  “And what does Julie think?”

  Rod’s face scrunched as if he’d eaten a lemon. “Dad, Julie and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

  “So I gathered.” He was quiet, then said, “It’s for the best. I didn’t want to say anything while you were still seeing her, but …” His voice trailed off.

  “But what?” Rod was puzzled, until it dawned on him that Hank was criticizing her. It wasn’t like Captain Ranch, who had only wanted Rod to stay away from Julie because he wasn’t paying attention to his studies. Ranch would have told him that about any girl—or anything that took time away from academics.

  This was different. This was personal. For some reason Hank seemed to be targeting Julie, and that meant he was indirectly criticizing him. Rod felt his face grow warm.

  “Nothing, lad.” Hank shifted in his seat. “I’ve already said too much.”

  Rod stared, his jaw tightened. “What didn’t you say?”

  Hank continued flying, looking straight ahead. There was an awkward silence in the cockpit, but Rod continued to stare, simmering. “Tell me!”

  Hank threw him a sharp look.

  The silence grew increasingly uneasy until Hank finally sighed. “It’s tough not to meddle, lad, but Julie may not have the best intentions in mind.”

  “What does that mean?” Rod felt his breath quicken.

  Hank spoke slowly while looking straight ahead. It seemed to take some effort, “Some women will do almost anything to leave their old life behind, do something exciting, especially if she’s had a protective or privileged life. I warn you, she’s a bad influence, just like that Fred Delante—”

  “Julie’s not like that!” He found it hard to breath and wished that he could get away from the old man. Why did he ever agree to go flying?

  Hank remained silent and refused to look at him.

  Rod started to shake, deep through his body. He balled his fists. “It doesn’t matter! We’re through! If I’m ever going to fly, I have to concentrate on academics. That’s my goal in life—fighters!”

  “Your goal!” Hank darkened. “Do you really think there’s any future in those puny little jets?” He waited a moment, but when Rod didn’t answer he said, “We’ll talk when we land. I have the controls.” He banked out of the racetrack pattern they had been flying and turned for the Black Forest airport.

  Rod said, “There’s nothing to talk about. Flying fighters is the most important thing in my life. And you’re wrong about Julie. Dead wrong. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I warned you about fighters! Didn’t you hear what happened in the news yesterday? One of your F-100s collided with a United Airlines flight; 49 people are dead, probably because of a hotdog fighter pilot who thought he was God’s gift to flying. And now this … this gold digger! What do you want to do—throw away your life? You’re going to the most prestigious school in the world, and you want to waste a career on dangerous little planes? Between toys like that, and women like Julie who only want to marry cadets from the first Academy class; she doesn’t care one dram about you or your goals, lad! She only cares about herself and leaving her pre-planned, debutante life behind.”

  “Stop it!” An angry red haze enveloped Rod as he turned and shoved his father as hard as he could. “She’s not that type of girl!”

  He slammed Hank against the cockpit door. The latching mechanism popped and an incredibly loud whistling filled the cockpit. The door swung open in the turbulence, banging back and forth against the airframe. Held only by a seatbelt, Hank’s upper body bounced out of the plane and was immediately buffeted back by the howling wind. His hands jerked the yoke as he tried to pull himself back.

  Rod reached across the controls and grabbed for Hank, trying to make him stop saying the lies, trying to make him stop speaking the things that Rod knew in his heart just weren’t true.

  Hank wanted to control Rod’s life. He wanted to stop him from flying fighters, make him go to some God-awful place like Minot, North Dakota, do nothing more than be a glorified bus driver in the air, and now he was personally attacking Julie.

  This wasn’t like the Academy, where everyone knew the yelling and criticisms were part of the training; this was for real. It was just as real as the time that Hank had forced him to run home fifteen miles from March Air Field rather than admit that he was wrong about fighters being the future, or just as real as the time that Rod had killed that German.

  The small plane rotated in the air, no one at the controls.

  Hank gasped for breath as Rod’s hands clawed at him. “The plane, lad!”

  Rod could only see his father’s unyielding face through the red rage. He only wanted him to stop talking about Julie like that, like that man who’d accosted Barbara—

  “Rod! We’re heading for the ground! Listen to me—”

  A flash of light reflected off one of the Academy’s aluminum buildings, piercing the haze that enveloped Rod. Wind rushed through his ears; everything seemed to move in slow motion. He blinked as he saw a menagerie of scenes—the steering wheel jerking back and forth; pine trees that grew larger and larger; the ground rolling closer.…

  He slumped back against his seat, dazed.

  Hank struggled upright, grabbing at the yoke. He pulled back on the controls, grunting. He fought the rudder and strained to right the craft.

  Shaking, the plane pulled up
with a groan, skimming across the foothills. Pine trees rushed below them, the rocky ground peppered with boulders. Hank slowly gained altitude as the engine thrummed, the only sound in the cockpit.

  They left the Academy behind as Hank secured the cockpit door.

  Below, mountain shadows crept across the eastern prairie, blanketing the ground like a rolling wall of darkness. Minutes passed, an infinite time …

  Finally, Hank spoke while looking straight ahead. His voice was almost a whisper. “You have to discover for yourself what’s important, what you want to do with your life. No one can do that for you. Not me, not your mother, not your AOC—or even that girl, Julie.”

  Rod breathed heavily, not fully comprehending what had just happened.

  His father stared out the cockpit window. Below, shadows darkened the steep valleys, blurring the sharp edges of granite that jutted from the tree-lined slopes.

  “These decisions are tough, and you’re going to make them all your life—”

  Rod held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it! I’m tired of listening to your lectures. If that’s all you’ve got to say, I never want to see you again!”

  Hank continued, unabated. “You have to learn to live with the consequences, because someday you may never be able to change your mind. If it’s important to you, you’ll make the right choice.”

  “That’s enough!”

  “Decisions are never black or white,” Hank said. “One of these days you’ll discover that you’re going to have to give up something you want, make a life-changing trade, for whatever it is that you really want.”

  Rod snorted and turned away. The last thing he needed was more advice from someone who saw the world as black or white. Why did Hank have to be so controlling?

  But as he stewed, he remembered years ago when the hardest choice he had to make was what type of malt he wanted, or what movie he and Sandy wanted to see.

  Now, faced with the choice of losing Julie or giving up flying, he realized that deciding on either would truly not make him happy. He’d be miserable without Julie, no matter what anyone thought, not Captain Ranch, not his father; he felt giddy whenever she was around. Despite her reluctance to talk about what she really wanted in life, she was incredibly independent, high-spirited. He couldn’t imagine being without her. Ever.