his mouth, unlit. Stramaglia used those cigars as pointers, and even as
improvised model airplanes to demonstrate aerial tactics, but Magruder had
never known him to actually smoke them.
“Aye, aye, sir,” he and Batman responded almost in unison. He followed
Stramaglia to his office a few yards down the corridor from Coyote’s.
“Sit,” Stramaglia said, gesturing to a chair with the cigar. Magruder
sat down uncomfortably, uneasy at the man’s manner.
“Well, well,” the CAG went on, settling into his own chair behind the
desk. “The famous Commander Magruder returns.” He regarded Tombstone
intently. “I need a deputy who can help me keep this Air Wing at peak
efficiency for the next five months. We’ve had a bad start, planes lost, men
killed in a stupid accident. And with this mess in Norway brewing there’s no
telling what we’re going to be up against next.”
He paused, frowning. “That’s what I need. What I’ve got is a goddamned
hero. I don’t like heroes, Mr. Magruder. I like good, solid, competent men
who get the job done and don’t feel the need to keep their reputations all
shiny and bright. You read me, Commander?”
“Sir … permission to speak freely?”
Stramaglia nodded, a curt, almost angry gesture.
“With all due respect, sir,” Magruder went on. “I didn’t ask for the
hero treatment. And I feel it’s unfair of you to judge me before I’ve had a
chance to show you how I can perform my duties.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Yessir,” Magruder replied, feeling like a student again.
“Good. Because you’re absolutely right.” Stramaglia allowed himself a
faint smile. “I just wanted you to know exactly where things stand. There
are a few old shipmates of yours aboard this boat, as you’ve already
discovered, and there are a lot of young hotshots who never met you but plan
to be just like you given half a chance. You’re gonna have to work overtime
to get past that hero-worship crap if you’re gonna be an effective member of
my staff, Understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Magruder said again, relaxing a little. Stramaglia hadn’t
changed much, it seemed. He was still blunt, even harsh … but fair enough,
in the long run.
“All right, then. I see you having the potential to be a good Deputy
CAG, Commander, just as I thought you had potential as an aviator. You didn’t
disappoint me the last time … try not to let me down now.”
“I’ll do my best, sir,” Tombstone said slowly.
“You damned well better believe you’ll do your best! When I’m through
with you, Commander, you’ll know everything there is to know about an air
wing. Not just the flashy fighters … everything.” Stramaglia paused. “I’m
an old-fashioned kind of officer, and I stick with the old COMNAVAIRLANT
policy–air wing commanders fly two types of aircraft off the carrier deck, no
more, no less. My deputies follow the same rules. Your file says you’re
checked out on most everything we’re carrying, right?”
“Fixed wing, yes, sir,” Tombstone said. “Not helos, though.”
“Good. For now you’re cleared for the S-3 and the A-6. Those are the
birds your predecessor was assigned to. You can fly them, or you can go up as
an NFO, whatever. But unless I tell you otherwise you concentrate on those
two birds and nothing else. Got me?”
Inwardly, Tombstone seethed. He’d flown most of the Navy’s planes at one
time or another, but he had always been a Tomcat driver first and foremost.
Stramaglia was cutting him off from the part of the job he really loved.
It was like Washington all over again … but with the life he wanted
tantalizingly close, hanging just out of reach.
“I understand, sir,” he said carefully, trying to keep his voice neutral.
But Stramaglia wasn’t fooled. “Not pleased, are you, Magruder? Well,
you’re not supposed to be. Look, Deputy CAG carries some damned heavy
responsibilities. You’re my number two. I expect my deputy to know
everything there is to know about running the Air Wing, because if I buy it
you’re the one who has to take over. You need to learn what the rest of the
Air Wing does. What you don’t need is any more experience in Tomcats, ’cause