Monday, June 30, 2008

Johnny Rumble:
If I were Secretary of Air Force

...on the certification of nuclear capable units.

I jabbed the intercom button on my desk, "Mary, can you get the Wing Commanders of both 5th and 2nd Bomb wings, and also patch in the 8th Commander?"

"Certainly Mr. Secretary. Do what priority do I give the call if they are currently unavailable?"

"You find them. Even if they are at home, sleeping, drinking, watching TV, fucking thier mistresses, I don't care. I want them on the horn."

"Yes Mr. Secretary, right away sir. By the way, your girlfriend called and said that she found a new outfit at Randy's."

I smiled broadly. Randy's the Lingere store. Randy's the Adult store. "Thank you Mary." I probably had enough time to grab a soda from the mini-fridge next to me. Mary was quick, extremely quick, but most of her time woud be spent wai-

"Mr. Secretary, I have both the 2nd and 5th Commanders on the phone, and the 8th Commander is currently on the flightline and quite unreachable at the moment. He sends his apoligizes and will return your phone call at the first possible moment."

I raised my eyebrow at the intercom. "Is there some sort of super-secretary academy that I don't know about Mary? That was quick."

"Thank you sir."

I picked up the phone, "Brigader Generals Cannon and Bruce, I want you to be quiet and listen real, real close. You two command this nations premire Nuclear units. Premire. But, due to a noteable former commander in the 5th, among other problems, the United States Air Force has become an embarresment unto itself. I am to correct this, and if heads need be shoved on pikes and paraded around the briefing rooms, they will be. I expect nothing less than "outstanding" ratings on your next ROI's. If you fail anything, your fired. If you anything having to do Nuclear weapons, you can concider your resignation accepted. If you fail bad enough, you will be dishonorably discharged and fed that Chicken Dinner. Am I understood?"

There was a slight pause on the line before I got two distincive yes sir's.

"Good. My records show that the next scheduled ROI's you two have are in about 6 months. That is scheduled. There is nothing on there pages about unscheduled. I expect those tow bars to be polished at all times." I took a breath. "Now, are either of you going to be eating chicken?"

I got no sir's.

"Good. Go run your Wings. And remember Generals, Above All." I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Soda time...

...on the tanker contracts.

"General Sheer! What a nice suprise! Didn't expect to see you down in my office after our pissing contest in front of the Sec Def last month. Can I offer you a drink? Beer, scotch, various sodas, I think there might be a Gatorade stuffed in the back of fridge somewhere." I was happy to see the General again, for he was a good guy, and a damn good poker player, but to see him in MY office was never a good thing. I usually visited him.

"Thank you sir, but I took the liberty of plucking one from you stock already. Hope you don't mind."

Plucking. That was code word for "I wish to talk plainly and off the record." I shut the door to my office. "What'd you pick out Pat?" He raised his bottle. "Green Apple Jones? Sounds good." I opened my own soda, kicked off my shoes and sat cross legged on the desk in front of him. "Whats up?"

"Boeing filed a complaint. And the bets are that the GAO is going to hold it up." I swore under my breath. "We need these planes Johnny. There are tankers in service that are pushing 50. The Air Force can't do this dance any more! We're out of money, out of time, and out of favors. Were gonna have to re-bid the whole damn thing!"

Pat was winding himself up, which was never a good thing for him. "Your preaching to the choir Pat. We all figured that the loser would complain and throw a shit-fit. We just hoped that of either of them, Boeing would be the one that would be classy about losing. Apparently not."

"Yeah, well 40 fucking billion dollars will make anybody stand up and scream bloody murder when they don't get it. New Tankers are quickly becoming the Bone projects of the 80's."

I took a pull from my soda and sat in silence. I looked at Pat, and he looked at me. We just stared at each other for a few moments, mentally bouncing ideas off each other.

I broke the silence first. "Look, I don't think we're gonna be able to do much other than cuss at idiots over at Boeing and the GAO. And I honestly don't think that's going to win us over too many people at the Hill. Even if they corrupt ding-dongs in fancy hats..."

"Ding-dongs?" Pat laughed. "Oh shit man...that was funny. Anyway, I gotta go. Just wanted to let you know what was happening."

"Hey, thanks for the heads up. By the way, we still on for poker tonight? And is your wife cooking?"

"Yes and yes."

"Woohoo and WOOHOO!"

Pat chuckled, "She not that good of a cook."

"Tell that to somebody who's kitchen is the size of a waffle maker. I hate my apartment. And apparently so do the SF's."

"Get a bigger place. You'll never be able to attract a girlfriend with that tiny place."

With that General Sheer exited my office. I finished my soda for a few minutes before I started ruffling papers looking for the number of the Boeing lobbyist. I was gonna raise hell, damn what people thought of me.

1 comment:

  1. I thought that was funny, more, are you doing more? or was this a one shot?