ways it had been easy to be apart, even though they both knew there was a chance he wouldn’t return. But at least everyone shared in the experience, from Speedy Beaumont, his wingman in combat, to the ladies’ circles back in San Bernardino.
Now they were alone. Tonight, once the last speech had been given, the last tickertape floated to the ground, and after the janitors had cleaned up the spilled drinks, he knew that Jean-Claude would still be at Lowry Field, with three hundred of his classmates; and it was Rod now, not the little boy he’d rescued in France so many years ago.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but with the anticipation that had built up over a decade of struggling to establish the Academy, it was as though he had climbed the world’s largest mountain, and once reaching the top, was suddenly left with nothing more to do. He just wished that Rod and he had parted on better terms.
Mary spoke into his coat. “How hard would it be to stay another day, change the train tickets and sightsee, so we wouldn’t have to leave so soon?” Rod’s departure had hit her hard—this wasn’t the independent woman he’d known all his life. She’d been that way since they’d married, a no-nonsense Scottish girl from the east Texas town of Tyler. They’d known each other for years, from two families of a dozen who’d emigrated from the Lowlands to work the newly discovered oil fields. She wasn’t afraid to set him straight, to speak her mind. And when she knew what she wanted, she wasn’t one to ask; she just did it. Rod really was like her: persistent, yet impulsive.
A surge of memories tugged at Hank. Rod had been with him years ago at General Fairchild’s review of the siting options for the Academy.
He’d always enjoyed taking Rod with him on such trips, but he wished Rod hadn’t been with him that last night at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington, D.C.; the lad was too young to be exposed to hardball politics. Thank goodness Rod hadn’t seen that woman forcing herself on him; Hank had known immediately that George Delante was behind it, blackmailing him for insider information, but Rod would have never understood.
Rod was just too damn stubborn for his own good, not to mention brash and impetuous; but unlike Mary, the lad reacted without thinking. He’d known that ever since Rod had killed that German. So Hank knew that if he was ever going to turn things around with the lad, then he had to be patient.
But with Rod starting his new life, he may never have the chance.
Hank whispered, “It shouldn’t be too hard to change our tickets. People do it all the time.”
Mary said, “I’d like to see some of the places you wrote about when you were on the Site Commission: Garden of the Gods, Manitou Springs, Pike’s Peak.…”
Hank pulled her close. “We won’t be able to see him until next summer, even if we stayed. And don’t worry about Rod. I’m sure they’re taking care of him.”
She looked up sharply. “This isn’t about Rod, husband. This is about me.”
***
Chapter Five
“Rock Around the Clock”
July 11, 1955
United States Air Force Academy
Lowry Field, CO
“The discipline which makes the soldiers of a free country reliable in battle is not to be gained by harsh or tyrannical treatment. On the contrary, such treatment is far more likely to destroy than to make an army. It is possible to impart instruction and give commands in such a manner and such a tone of voice as to inspire in the soldier no feeling but an intense desire to obey, while the opposite manner and tone of voice cannot fail to excite strong resentment and a desire to disobey. The one mode or the other of dealing with subordinates springs from a corresponding spirit in the breast of a commander. He who feels the respect which is due to others cannot fail to inspire in them respect for himself, while he who feels, and hence manifests, disrespect toward others, especially his subordinates, cannot fail to
Now they were alone. Tonight, once the last speech had been given, the last tickertape floated to the ground, and after the janitors had cleaned up the spilled drinks, he knew that Jean-Claude would still be at Lowry Field, with three hundred of his classmates; and it was Rod now, not the little boy he’d rescued in France so many years ago.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but with the anticipation that had built up over a decade of struggling to establish the Academy, it was as though he had climbed the world’s largest mountain, and once reaching the top, was suddenly left with nothing more to do. He just wished that Rod and he had parted on better terms.
Mary spoke into his coat. “How hard would it be to stay another day, change the train tickets and sightsee, so we wouldn’t have to leave so soon?” Rod’s departure had hit her hard—this wasn’t the independent woman he’d known all his life. She’d been that way since they’d married, a no-nonsense Scottish girl from the east Texas town of Tyler. They’d known each other for years, from two families of a dozen who’d emigrated from the Lowlands to work the newly discovered oil fields. She wasn’t afraid to set him straight, to speak her mind. And when she knew what she wanted, she wasn’t one to ask; she just did it. Rod really was like her: persistent, yet impulsive.
A surge of memories tugged at Hank. Rod had been with him years ago at General Fairchild’s review of the siting options for the Academy.
He’d always enjoyed taking Rod with him on such trips, but he wished Rod hadn’t been with him that last night at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington, D.C.; the lad was too young to be exposed to hardball politics. Thank goodness Rod hadn’t seen that woman forcing herself on him; Hank had known immediately that George Delante was behind it, blackmailing him for insider information, but Rod would have never understood.
Rod was just too damn stubborn for his own good, not to mention brash and impetuous; but unlike Mary, the lad reacted without thinking. He’d known that ever since Rod had killed that German. So Hank knew that if he was ever going to turn things around with the lad, then he had to be patient.
But with Rod starting his new life, he may never have the chance.
Hank whispered, “It shouldn’t be too hard to change our tickets. People do it all the time.”
Mary said, “I’d like to see some of the places you wrote about when you were on the Site Commission: Garden of the Gods, Manitou Springs, Pike’s Peak.…”
Hank pulled her close. “We won’t be able to see him until next summer, even if we stayed. And don’t worry about Rod. I’m sure they’re taking care of him.”
She looked up sharply. “This isn’t about Rod, husband. This is about me.”
***
Chapter Five
“Rock Around the Clock”
July 11, 1955
United States Air Force Academy
Lowry Field, CO
“The discipline which makes the soldiers of a free country reliable in battle is not to be gained by harsh or tyrannical treatment. On the contrary, such treatment is far more likely to destroy than to make an army. It is possible to impart instruction and give commands in such a manner and such a tone of voice as to inspire in the soldier no feeling but an intense desire to obey, while the opposite manner and tone of voice cannot fail to excite strong resentment and a desire to disobey. The one mode or the other of dealing with subordinates springs from a corresponding spirit in the breast of a commander. He who feels the respect which is due to others cannot fail to inspire in them respect for himself, while he who feels, and hence manifests, disrespect toward others, especially his subordinates, cannot fail to
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