“I’m sure it is. A left-wing conspiracy, no doubt,” Karin said. “Every flight student you have ever had has been a part of the left-wing conspiracy.”
“That’s true. But it isn’t just the flight students. I mean, think about this. Ever since I got my wings, people have been trying to kill me. Did you know that in Iraq and Afghanistan, they were actually shooting at my helicopter?”
Karin laughed. “As I recall, you were flying an Apache while you were in Afghanistan, and doing quite a bit of shooting of your own. You didn’t get your Distinguished Flying Cross for making sightseeing trips.”
“Still, you would think they would have more respect for a disparate collection of oscillating parts that, somehow, manage to levitate.” Jake held up his right hand to call one of the harried waiters over, even as he was using his left to push another piece of fried catfish into his mouth.
“We’ll need another platterful,” he said when the waiter came over.
“We don’t need another whole platter unless you are going to eat them all yourself. I’m absolutely stuffed,” Karin said.
“No sweat, I’ll eat them.”
“Do you ever fill up?”
“Eventually,” Jake answered.
CHAPTER THREE
Monday, January 23
Major General Clifton von Cairns, the commandant of Fort Rucker, used one of the larger classrooms to have an officers’ call for all department, division, and section chiefs to talk about the troops that would be returning to the States. He admitted, during the meeting, that he had no idea what this would portend. The problem would be in finding billets for all of them.
“We don’t have space for them, not in our CONUS TO and E units, and not in our training commands. Department of Army has asked every post commander to inventory their facilities with an eye toward absorbing the influx.”
“General, will we be able to handle such an increase ?” a colonel asked.
“Yes, of course. We had much larger numbers of troops in garrison during World War Two. Of course, we also had a lot more military posts then. The problem now is that since BRAC, so many posts have been closed down in the last several years that it is going to make it difficult.”
“How long has DA known about bringing all the troops back to CONUS?” another colonel asked. “What I mean is, why didn’t they give us prior warning?”
General von Cairns looked at the colonel with an expression that mirrored his frustration. “Colonel Haney, from what I was told by the Army chief of staff this morning, Department of Defense learned about this at the same time we did: when the president announced it during his inaugural address.”
Monday, February 27
Hello, America. George Gregoire here.
In his inaugural address, Mehdi Ohmshidi stated his intention to bring back to the United States every uniformed American stationed overseas. Well, he has done that. So, let’s take a look at what has happened.
All military training in America has come to a complete halt. The bases are overcrowded. There is no place to put the returning military, not in any training capacity, nor in any operational unit. Morale has sunk to an all-time low as officers and men report to work daily, but with no real work to do.
And what has happened overseas ? With America’s withdrawal from NATO, all NATO operations have come to a halt. Terrorism has increased in Europe, and in the Middle East.
Since 1945, U.S. troops in Korea have helped support the South Korean military, providing the security needed to lift that country from the third world to one of the economic giants of the world. But with the withdrawal of American troops, North Korea has become much more adventurous, last week sinking two South Korean fishing vessels and, just yesterday, penetrating the buffer zone that separates the two countries and killing three South Korean border guards.
But it isn’t just Ohmshidi’s foreign policy that is failing. Let me ask you this. How is this universal program of shared wealth working out for you ?
Let’s do give Ohmshidi credit for establishing a degree of equality in the nation. He has not been able to improve the plight of the poor, but he has been quite successful in bringing down the living standards of the rest of us. And I’m not just talking about the wealthy; I’m talking about working Americans. In barely over one month, the value of the dollar has fallen by eighteen percent.
I don’t mind telling you, friends, I don’t see this situation getting any better. In fact, I see it getting worse, much worse. I will do my part. I will ask the bold questions and I will always tell you the truth.
Just over one month after Ohmshidi ordered all overseas military to return to the continental United States, Fort Rucker was filled to capacity with returning soldiers, and in order to accommodate the influx, all training activities were suspended. It would have been difficult to continue training activities anyway, because, in a cost-cutting measure, the Department of the Army was now regulating the total number of hours that could be flown in any week. Once Fort Rucker got their allocation, it would hold the hours in a pool and pilots who needed flight time for pay purposes would have to apply for that time. The problem was there were not enough hours allocated to the fort to enable all the pilots to make their minimums, and as additional rated officers arrived, the situation grew even more critical. General von Cairns had been correct in anticipating difficulty in completing the flight program and his recommendation to Jake to expedite the last cycle barely enabled the twelve students to complete their courses.
At the post hospital, Karin was having her own problems. Reductions in Medicare and Tricare denied civilian health care to military retirees and their families, so they were remanded to military base hospitals. As a result the case load at the hospital was greatly increased. VA facilities all across the country were closed, and those who were eligible for VA benefits were instructed to go to active-duty military hospitals on a space-available basis only.
This increased patient load meant that Karin was working longer, harder hours each day, and was often too tired to visit Jake. But tonight she came by, bringing hamburgers and French fries from a local drive-in.
“Do you have any idea how much two hamburgers and two orders of French fries cost?” she asked. Then, without waiting for a response, she answered her own question. “Eighteen dollars! Can you believe that?”
“Everything has gone up,” Jake said. “In order to have enough to meet all the new projects, the government has begun printing money hand over fist. Gregoire says that the presses are running nonstop. Obviously the more money you have in circulation, the less value it has, so that things that have real value, like food, are seeing drastic increases in price. I bought two twelve-packs of root beer this afternoon on the way home from work. Forty-two dollars.”
“You might want to think about giving up your root beer,” Karin said.
“I’ll give up my root beer when they pry the last can from my cold, dead fingers,” Jake teased.
“Jake,” Karin said, the smile on her face replaced by an expression of concern and even a hint of fear. “Where is all this going? What is going to happen to us?”
“I don’t know, Karin. God help us, I don’t know.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“What did you want to hear?”
“I wanted to hear you say that everything will be all right.”
Jake was quiet for a moment; then he sighed. “Karin, for us—for you and me—everything will be alright. But there is no way the country is going to get through this without serious, serious consequences.”
“How can you say then, that it will be alright for you and me?”
“Because I will make it alright for you and me,” Jake said. “That is a promise.”
“Get the drinks, let’s eat,” Karin said, wanting to change the subject.
“How about root beer?” Jake suggested as he started toward the refrigerator.
“Root beer? I don’t know, let me think about it. Ummm, y
es, I think I would like a root beer.”
Jake brought the drinks into the living room and put the cold cans on coasters on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Did you fly today?” Karin asked as she handed a hamburger and fries to Jake.
“Nobody flew today,” Jake answered as he unwrapped his burger. “I haven’t flown in two weeks. We are limited to one thousand hours per month, and as of now there are only six hours remaining in this month’s flight-hour pool. You know how many rated aviators we have on this post?”
“A lot,” Karin replied.
“We had almost a thousand before the influx of troops from overseas, and that added at least two hundred more. That means there are twelve hundred pilots who are now in queue for six hours. That breaks down to eighteen seconds of flight time apiece.”
Karin laughed, spewing root beer as she did so. She wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“It’s not funny,” Jake said. “If aviators can’t keep up their minimums, aircraft are going to start falling out of the sky because the pilots aren’t going to be safe.”
“I know it’s not really funny, Jake,” Karin said. She laughed again. “But I’m just picturing someone getting into a helicopter for eighteen seconds.” She hopped up from the couch. “I’m flying,” she said. She plopped back down on the couch. “Oops, time is up.”
“It’s not funny, damn it,” Jake said, but despite himself, he laughed as well.
“I’m going to turn on TV,” Karin said. “Kentucky is playing LSU tonight.”
“What do you care? You’re not running cross-country for Kentucky anymore,” Jake said. “And as far as I know, you are no longer a cheerleader.”
“You think I’m not?” Karin replied. Getting up from the couch and standing flat-footed on the floor, she did a backflip, tucking in her legs at the top of the flip because she went so high that her feet would have hit the ceiling. Landing on her feet, she thrust her pelvis forward and held her arms over her head.
“Now, imagine me in my cheerleader outfit,” she said.
“You’re making me blush. Be nice now,” Jake said.
“Are you sure you want me to be nice?” Karin asked, seductively.
“Maybe not that nice,” Jake answered, pulling her to him for an open-mouthed kiss.
Gulf Shores, Alabama—Thursday, March 1
Bob Varney, chief warrant officer–4, United States Army retired, got a cookie and a cup of coffee from the welcome counter at the bank, then had a seat until he could speak to one of the bank officers.
“Bob?” Joel Dempster called, sticking his head out of his office.
Having finished both his cookie and the coffee, Bob dropped the paper cup into a trash can, then went into Joel’s office.
“I read Summer Kill and Death Town. They were great,” Joel said. “When is your next book coming out?”
“Within a month. It’s Murder in Milwaukee. I’ll be signing at the Page and Canvas in Fairhope when it comes out.”
“Don’t know if I’ll be able to get there, but I’ll for sure buy it.”
“Thanks.”
“I think Hollywood should make a movie of one of your books.”
“From your lips to God’s ear,” Bob said.
“Now, what can I do for you?” Joel asked.
“I was just wondering. I went online to check my account; I didn’t see the deposit for my Army retirement.”
“Yes, I thought that might be why you were here. If it is any consolation to you, it isn’t just you, Bob. There was no deposit for anyone. We got a notice from DFAS that all transactions are being halted while they undergo reorganization.”
“Wow. Really? Everyone?”
“Everyone. You are lucky. With your writing you have another income, a good income, I might add. But as you know there are a lot of military retirees here. And many, if not most of them, depend entirely upon their military retirement and Social Security.”
“I didn’t even check for Social Security.”
“Don’t bother, there was no deposit for it, either.”
“That’s not good,” Bob said.
“I’ll tell you something else that isn’t good. We have been ordered to submit a report to the federal government providing information on the amount of money every depositor has in all accounts.”
“Are you going to do that? Do they have the authority to make you do it?”
“As long as we participate in the FDIC program, we have no choice but to comply.”
“Maybe I should take out what I’ve got in there,” Bob said.
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
“You just deposited a royalty check earlier this week, didn’t you? A rather substantial check?”
“Yes, it was for signing four contracts, and delivery and acceptance of a completed book. A little over forty thousand dollars.”
“At this point any withdrawal, or check, in excess of ten thousand dollars, must be approved by the federal government.”
“Why?”
“I’m sure you have noticed that the economy is a little shaky now, and is getting worse almost by the day. I think this is to prevent a run on the banks.”
“Is the money safe?”
“It is as safe as money is safe,” Joel said. “The problem is, how secure is the American dollar? I’ve been hearing things through the grapevine that make me wonder.”
“Now you are getting me scared,” Bob said. “First you say there are no retirement or Social Security payments, then you say I can’t get the money I do have out of the bank. Joel, what the hell is going on?”
“I wish I could tell you, Bob, I really do. I’ve talked to all the other bankers; we are very worried about this. Banks are only as good as the service they are able to provide to their depositors. When you start breaking that trust, then you are putting into jeopardy a bank’s ability to function. If I were you, and I’m cutting my own throat by telling you this, but if I were you, I would withdraw nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. As long as you don’t go to ten thousand dollars on any one transaction, you are safe.”
“Thanks, Joel, I guess that’s the route I’ll take.”
“Then come back tomorrow and do it again, keep doing it until your account has just a few cents in it.”
“I appreciate you telling me that, Joel,” Bob said. “I’ll do that too.”
“Just write the check here, I’ll cash it. There’s no sense in causing anyone to get curious. And, if you would, be careful about who you tell this to.”
“I will,” Bob promised. “And again, thanks.”
Bob wrote the check and handed it to Joel. Joel left the office, and returned a moment later with the cash in a bank envelope.
“Are you going to rent your house this summer?” Joel asked as he handed the cash to Bob.
“I don’t know if we are, or not,” Bob replied. “By this time last year, we had eight weeks rented already. So far this year, we don’t have so much as a single nibble.”
“I guess folks are a little frightened of what’s ahead,” Joel said.
“Yeah, it sure looks that way.”
Bob got up and stuck his hand out toward Joel. “I appreciate what you are doing for me, Joel.”
“You’re a good customer and an interesting guy,” Joel said. “And, I wouldn’t worry too much about things. I’m sure it’s all going to work out.”
“If not, we’ll just whistle past the graveyard, eh, Joel?”
Joel laughed out loud. “Sounds like a good plan,” he said.
Fort Rucker—Thursday, March 1
From the office of the Commanding General, Fort Rucker, Alabama
Subject: Flight Time
Suspense Date: With immediate effect
1. All facility aircraft are herewith grounded. No flight will be authorized unless it is an emergency flight.
a. Emergency refers to national emergency only.
c. Said authorization will require authenticator.
2. All aviators are hereby ordered to submit flight logbooks showing most recent flying time for analysis of flying patterns.
3. All aircraft maintenance logbooks will be surrendered to flight operations, and all aircraft will be rendered non-flyable by removing lines from fuel tank to fuel controls.
4. Flight school students who have less than 200 flying hours will be dismissed from the course and reassigned to non-flying billets.
5. Flight school students with more than 200 flying hours will be subject to flight instructor’s evaluation for further disposition. If recommended by flight instructor, they will be awarded the wings of a rated aviator.
Distribution:
By Electronic Transfer
For the Commander MG Clifton von Cairns
Joseph A. Wrench
LTC
Avn
Adjutant
“What is this nonsense, Major?” Captain Greenly asked. Greenly was one of the instructor pilots in Environmental Flight Tactics. “All aircraft are grounded?”
“That’s the way I read it,” Jake replied.
“For how long?”
“That I can’t tell you, Len,” Jake replied. “But I can tell you, it doesn’t look good.”
“I’ve only got one student who meets the two hundred-hour requirement, but hell, that’s because he’s so uncoordinated he had to fly extra hours just to keep up. My two best students are still fifteen hours short. What am I going to tell them?”
“Tell them the truth,” Jake said. “At this point it doesn’t matter whether they have their wings or not. Nobody is flying.”
“Have you thought about where that leaves us?” Greenly asked.
“What do you mean?
“I mean if nobody is flying, there isn’t much need for flight instructors, is there?”
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