Chapter 14

The next morning I went into the squadron headquarters office, and found a different airman manning the desk. He buzzed Captain Mitchell, who had him send me on in. I marched in and reported, just as I'd done a week ago.

"Well, Airman Alba, what is your decision?"

"Sir, after considering all the options, I choose to leave the Air Force."

"What?" I'd told Max that he'd bellowed at me, and this was certainly a bellow.

"Sir, I said that—"

"I know what you said, airman. Explain yourself."

"Yes, sir. Lieutenant Bois d'Arc loves me, and I love her. We are engaged. In order to continue our relationship, one of us must leave the Air Force. It is simply logical that I be the one to do so."

"You two are in love? How do you know?"

"Sir, do you wish me to explain everything that went into the realization?"

"No—!" I knew, I thought, what he had chopped himself off before saying. The captain wasn't, as far as I knew, a Christian, but he had a reputation for restraining his language around those whose religion might make it offensive. He rose and paced behind his chair. "I have heard everything now. A lieutenant and a senior airman, in love with each other."

"Yes, sir."

"What if I tell you that you have to stay right here and fix jet engines, and stay away from the lieutenant?"

"Then, sir, I will find some way to get the Air Force to kick me out."

"You'd accept a bad conduct discharge in order to be with this woman?"

"Sir," I said, "I would accept a court martial, forfeiture of all rank and pay, and a dishonorable discharge if that were the price I had to pay. As I said, sir, I love her, and I will suffer whatever is necessary in order to be with her."

He stared at me as though I'd been suddenly speaking in Swahili. "And what do you want from me?"

"Sir, it's hardly my place—"

"When I ask you a question, airman, it's your place to answer that question."

"Yes, sir. Captain, permission to speak freely?"

He sat down and planted his forearms on the desk. I had the impression that if the desk were trying to rise on the thrust of a Saturn V rocket, those forearms could have held it on the ground. "I asked you the question, I can't forbid you from answering. Permission granted." It was a growl.

"Sir, all I want is to separate from the Air Force, and marry Lieutenant Bois d'Arc. Actually, I want to marry her, and in order to do that I must leave the Air Force, even though I would prefer not to. I will take whatever sort of discharge I must. I ask only that Lieutenant Bois d'Arc not suffer. Whatever wrath must fall, I wish to fall on me."

"So you want me to boot you out, and give the lieutenant a free pass? How gallant of you."

"It's not gallantry, sir. It is simply what I want. I could not bear it if the lieutenant suffered on my account."

"You stupid young fool," the captain said. He got up from his chair and came around the desk. He stood before me, and since he had never put me at ease, but had left me standing at attention, all I could do was stare straight ahead. He stood within inches of me, like a TI in basic, breathing harshly. After a few seconds he said, "I'm going to give you what you want. Do you know why?"

"No, sir."

"Because I'm ex-enlisted myself. I know what it's like to want things you just can't have. I know what it's like to wear stripes, and watch people with collar brass, and wish you could have it."

"Sir, that's not why I'm doing this. My sole Air Force ambition has been to become a chief master sergeant."

"Then I don't understand you at all."

I thought about just clamping my mouth shut, but I did have permission to speak freely. "Captain, may I ask a question?"

"You may." Finally he moved away from me, back behind his desk where I could see him.

"Sir, have you ever loved a woman?"

For answer he held up his left hand. I'd noticed the wedding ring before, but now he was making sure I saw it. "My wife died seven years ago. I have never been the same since, and I never will be." His voice was, for the first time since I'd been in the squadron, gentle, without a rasp, much less the volume everyone knew him for. "Airman Alba, you've made your point. I wondered if you would."

"Sir?"

"I have already spoken to the wing commander, who has spoken to the base commander, who has spoken to whomever he needed to speak to. I have here in my desk the necessary paperwork to begin processing a hardship discharge for you. I have pulled every string I knew how to pull. I have called in every marker I could. I now owe favors to half the United States Air Force. You have played the one card I could not trump. You have required me to be what they used to call a real human type. All right, I'm a real human type. You're going to sign this paperwork, and you're going to take terminal leave, and you're going to go through out-processing. And at the end of it all you'll have an honorable hardship discharge from the United States Air Force. I don't expect you to invite me to the wedding. I've been a hardnose my entire time as an officer, and I'm not about to stop now." He opened the middle draw of his desk and took out a manila folder. "Sign this stuff."

That constituted a command, so although I was still at the position of attention I stepped forward, picked up the pen that was there, and began signing papers. When I came to the request for terminal leave I hesitated. "Sir, I would prefer to continue working during my remaining time in the Air Force."

"I can't order you to take leave, son. But think of the unit. By the end of the day, no matter what I do, the whole wing's going to know you're leaving the Air Force to marry your lieutenant. If you show up and try to work, the morale here will fall into a black hole. And if that happens, I can and will take action to remove the problem, and that will end your hardship discharge. It's your choice, son – terminal leave, or force me to protect this unit."

I knew what he'd do if I gave him that choice. "Sir, I care more about this squadron and this wing than that. I'm sorry I didn't see the problem." I signed those papers too, and returned the pen and folder to him.

The captain stood up. His voice was weary as he said, "Airman, I've enjoyed having you under my command. You would have made chief, I'm sure of it, and you'd have been a good one. But I can't stand in your way. I've helped you as much as I could. Please don't make me regret it. Congratulations." He came to attention. I saluted him, he returned it, and I turned and marched out.

The papers I'd signed had placed me on terminal leave as of right now. I walked wearily to my bike, feeling like I'd wrestled with a grizzly bear. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Max's number. I got her voice mail, so she was probably either in a briefing, or was actually aloft with her phone in a locker. I said, "It's going better than I thought, honey. I'm on terminal leave, and they're giving me a hardship discharge. I'm headed to my place. If you're not flying tomorrow ... I'd like to ask you out for a beer. Let's make it our first official date. What are they going to do – kick me out of the Air Force?" I had more I could say, but it would go better in person. I just added, "I love you, Max," and closed the phone. I stuck it back in my pocket, put on my helmet, and headed off base. I was out of a job, but tomorrow would be soon enough to start looking for work. Today was a day of mingled joy and mourning, and I was going to spend it mingling my joy at knowing Max with my mourning over my lost Air Force career.

It was strange getting home just a couple of hours after I'd left. It was strange getting out of my uniform and putting on civilian clothes. I knew that there would be a few occasions over the next month when I'd need to be in uniform, when I needed to go here or there to complete my out-processing, but for all practical purposes I'd worn the uniform for the last time. I tossed the BDUs on the bed, and looked at them as though they were a friend who'd suddenly died.

I put on a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, and started cleaning out my closet. Except for two sets of BDUs, I took everything off the hangers – the camouflage patterned uniforms I wore every day, my blues including the "flying saucer hat" and the coat and the flight cap, my ties, everything that I'd worn at one time or another in the course of my Air Force career. I located my extra pair of combat boots, and my Corfam dress shoes. I put it all on the bed, and went into the kitchen to see if I had any boxes I could put things in. I found one, tucked into the niche between the refrigerator and the wall. I didn't remember the box, nor putting it there, but it was in good shape and I carried it back into the bedroom. I put the boots and shoes in the bottom of the box, and then folded the uniforms and laid them on top. Except for the dress blues coat nothing took up a lot of room, and the sum total didn't fill the box.

I went to the dresser, and found the stack of OD green t-shirts. I saved enough out to go with the BDUs I'd kept back, and put the rest in the box. And finally I segregated two or three pairs of heavy socks, and put the rest in the box. That filled it up, and I picked it off the bed and stuck in the back corner of the closet. It felt like I was burying a brother.

Out in the kitchen again I made myself a couple of sandwiches, using the thin sliced pastrami you can buy in those little plastic pouches. I put on mustard, and then ate them standing at the living room window, looking out at the parking lot. It wasn't an inspiring sight, but I suspected that just then not much would be.