“I’ve composed a special prayer for Vance. It is short and a little unorthodox, but it is sincere.”
He bowed his head and went on. “Dear Heavenly Father, you have received the soul of a great aviator. May he enjoy his heavenly wings as much as he enjoyed his earthly wings. Amen.”
There was an appreciative chuckle from the crowd, then silence as the honor guard stepped forward with their rifles at the ready. Just as the command “Fire” rang out, the air was shattered with the sound of eight jet engines as four McDonnell F-4Es roared overhead. The rifle shots were lost in the noise of the Phantoms flying over, the number three man peeling up in the heart-stopping “missing man” salute. The F-4Es disappeared over the horizon as the haunting sound of “Taps” rang out. They watched the solemn folding of the flag in silence, too moved by the Air Force’s final aerial salute to a fallen comrade to talk. Finally, Harry whispered to Tom, “That must have been laid on by O’Malley. We owe him a lot for this.”
Tom nodded, still choked up.
The chaplain saluted the flag and then handed it to Jill.
It was over. The crowd began to move, a hundred conversations broke out, and Tom moved over to Steve O’Malley.
“I won’t forget this, Steve. Dad must be mighty pleased.”
“He was a modest man, Tom, but he deserves every honor. I’m glad I could help.”
Tom turned away. It was too bad that O’Malley was wrapped up in his project with Rodriquez—he’d be a good man to bring on board the Shannon family firm.
CHAPTER THREE
THE PASSING PARADE : Pol Pot begins genocide in Cambodia; U.S. Marines recapture S.S. Mayaguez from Cambodian communists; two assassination attempts on President Ford; federal government bails out New York City; legislation attempts to impose metric measurements on United States; 8,000 lifelike, life-sized terracotta soldiers found in China; Legionnaires’ disease appears; CB radio popular; One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest wins top four Oscars; Apple Computer launched.
December 13, 1974
Luke AFB, Arizona
F our sleek Northrop T-38 Talons flew through the thin, high cirrus at thirty thousand feet, the flashing gray wisps of clouds imparting a temporary sense of speed. En route back from a tough training mission, 2nd Lieutenant Vance Robert Shannon felt the familiar incredulity that he was actually paid to fly this marvelous aircraft. He mumbled to himself, “It must be in the blood, in the genes.”
Neither his father nor his grandfather had ever encouraged him to fly—they both knew the dangers too well, and both had lost too many friends to the business. But they were obviously happy when he chose the Air Force, and even happier when he began doing so well in flying school. Now, only days away from graduation, he piloted the number four aircraft in the formation, enjoying the T-38’s responsiveness, watching Charlie St. John lead the flight with precision andanticipating an evening of dinner, dancing, and, he hoped, sex with his fiancée Ginny.
St. John had been his rival at the Academy, in flight school, and for the affections of Virginia “Ginny” Talbot. Charlie had graduated number one to his number two at the Academy and they were now neck and neck for first honors in flying school. It had been a close-run thing with Ginny, but she agreed to marry Shannon only two weeks before. Through it all, against the odds, Shannon and St. John had remained close friends, although the business with Ginny was going to make it rough. It was just as well they were graduating, going their separate ways.
As they began a left turn, Shannon noticed a puff of smoke, followed by a blue-colored flame, coming from St. John’s port engine.
“Lead, check your gauges. I see flames coming from your number one engine, Charlie.”
There was no reply. Instead the canopy blew off in a high arc, followed immediately by the ejection seat, with St. John hunched forward as the seat
He bowed his head and went on. “Dear Heavenly Father, you have received the soul of a great aviator. May he enjoy his heavenly wings as much as he enjoyed his earthly wings. Amen.”
There was an appreciative chuckle from the crowd, then silence as the honor guard stepped forward with their rifles at the ready. Just as the command “Fire” rang out, the air was shattered with the sound of eight jet engines as four McDonnell F-4Es roared overhead. The rifle shots were lost in the noise of the Phantoms flying over, the number three man peeling up in the heart-stopping “missing man” salute. The F-4Es disappeared over the horizon as the haunting sound of “Taps” rang out. They watched the solemn folding of the flag in silence, too moved by the Air Force’s final aerial salute to a fallen comrade to talk. Finally, Harry whispered to Tom, “That must have been laid on by O’Malley. We owe him a lot for this.”
Tom nodded, still choked up.
The chaplain saluted the flag and then handed it to Jill.
It was over. The crowd began to move, a hundred conversations broke out, and Tom moved over to Steve O’Malley.
“I won’t forget this, Steve. Dad must be mighty pleased.”
“He was a modest man, Tom, but he deserves every honor. I’m glad I could help.”
Tom turned away. It was too bad that O’Malley was wrapped up in his project with Rodriquez—he’d be a good man to bring on board the Shannon family firm.
CHAPTER THREE
THE PASSING PARADE : Pol Pot begins genocide in Cambodia; U.S. Marines recapture S.S. Mayaguez from Cambodian communists; two assassination attempts on President Ford; federal government bails out New York City; legislation attempts to impose metric measurements on United States; 8,000 lifelike, life-sized terracotta soldiers found in China; Legionnaires’ disease appears; CB radio popular; One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest wins top four Oscars; Apple Computer launched.
December 13, 1974
Luke AFB, Arizona
F our sleek Northrop T-38 Talons flew through the thin, high cirrus at thirty thousand feet, the flashing gray wisps of clouds imparting a temporary sense of speed. En route back from a tough training mission, 2nd Lieutenant Vance Robert Shannon felt the familiar incredulity that he was actually paid to fly this marvelous aircraft. He mumbled to himself, “It must be in the blood, in the genes.”
Neither his father nor his grandfather had ever encouraged him to fly—they both knew the dangers too well, and both had lost too many friends to the business. But they were obviously happy when he chose the Air Force, and even happier when he began doing so well in flying school. Now, only days away from graduation, he piloted the number four aircraft in the formation, enjoying the T-38’s responsiveness, watching Charlie St. John lead the flight with precision andanticipating an evening of dinner, dancing, and, he hoped, sex with his fiancée Ginny.
St. John had been his rival at the Academy, in flight school, and for the affections of Virginia “Ginny” Talbot. Charlie had graduated number one to his number two at the Academy and they were now neck and neck for first honors in flying school. It had been a close-run thing with Ginny, but she agreed to marry Shannon only two weeks before. Through it all, against the odds, Shannon and St. John had remained close friends, although the business with Ginny was going to make it rough. It was just as well they were graduating, going their separate ways.
As they began a left turn, Shannon noticed a puff of smoke, followed by a blue-colored flame, coming from St. John’s port engine.
“Lead, check your gauges. I see flames coming from your number one engine, Charlie.”
There was no reply. Instead the canopy blew off in a high arc, followed immediately by the ejection seat, with St. John hunched forward as the seat
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