knowledge. Attention to detail is a defining attribute of an officer, and you will be motivated as such. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir!” As they prepared to march, Rod wondered about the emphasis that Justice put on memorization. He had always had a good memory, so it shouldn’t be tough to memorize cadet knowledge, whatever that was. He didn’t have time to ponder the forewarning as Captain Justice nodded his head in time with the distant drumbeat.
“Bravo, forward harch.” Keeping in time with the music, Justice fell in step beside the squadron as they made their way to a runway adjacent to the academy area.
The music grew louder as they marched. Rod didn’t dare look around, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the metal stands erected around the runway, jammed with people. His parents were out there. A military band stood smartly at the far end of the area. As the sounds of “Stars and Stripes Forever” thundered over the field, the squadron picked up their step. It seemed that everyone held their heads a little higher and marched with more pride to the stirring music. All they needed to top off the moment were bagpipes.
The crowd cheered as they wheeled into view. The people in the stands struggled to their feet, clapping, whistling. A wave of emotion rolled over Rod as they marched in front of the crowd. He didn’t dare turn his head and look for his parents—he knew they were out there, but he didn’t want to incur Captain Justice’s wrath, for he knew the officer wouldn’t hesitate to make corrections, no matter where they were.
They snapped to a stop next to Alpha Squadron. Rod forgot about the yelling and screaming that he had been subjected to over the past five hours. In front of him people cheered, waving flags and handkerchiefs, clapping and whistling, holding signs that read: WE LOVE CADETS!
Airplanes roared overhead, one after another, saluting the festivities. A C-97 Stratofreighter lumbered low over the field, followed by an enormous B-36 Peacemaker escorted by a screaming flight of four F-100 fighters. Honor guards from the Army and Naval academies marched smartly past in review, their flags and guidons flying in the wind.
The physical gap between the crowd and candidates was not more than a hundred feet, something that Rod could have easily breached in a few seconds; but the emotional gulf that separated him from his parents seemed to widen even as he stood. Adoration flowed from the crowd, as a siren calling him to military life. It was a final sound of encouragement, a memory that would define his transition into something from which he would never return. Waves of clapping rolled over him, and he basked in the moment.
The band stopped in the middle of a stanza as the last of the cadet wing marched into place. The crowd grew quite with the sudden silence. A group of officers stepped to the center of the field.
Words echoed from loudspeakers as the chaplain gave the invocation. Rod tried to concentrate on what was being said, but he was overwhelmed by the images around him: the flag quietly flapping from the flagpole; a stunning blond girl in a white dress holding a hand over her eyes as she searched for her candidate boyfriend; two small boys off to the side, shooting marbles by the stands.
Rod felt transfixed, as if he was observing the ceremony from afar and not participating. The Secretary of the Air Force started the dedication speech by reading a congratulatory letter from President Eisenhower. He caught snippets of the words:
“We now stand at the crest in that upward climb. At last, the uncertainties, the turmoil of the past have given way to a great national institution dedicated to the leadership of United States airpower.… The Academy is a bridge to the future, gleaming with promise of peace in a stable, sane world.… Our airpower has kept the peace … it is keeping the peace, God willing, it will keep on doing so. This Academy we are founding today will
“Yes, sir!” As they prepared to march, Rod wondered about the emphasis that Justice put on memorization. He had always had a good memory, so it shouldn’t be tough to memorize cadet knowledge, whatever that was. He didn’t have time to ponder the forewarning as Captain Justice nodded his head in time with the distant drumbeat.
“Bravo, forward harch.” Keeping in time with the music, Justice fell in step beside the squadron as they made their way to a runway adjacent to the academy area.
The music grew louder as they marched. Rod didn’t dare look around, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the metal stands erected around the runway, jammed with people. His parents were out there. A military band stood smartly at the far end of the area. As the sounds of “Stars and Stripes Forever” thundered over the field, the squadron picked up their step. It seemed that everyone held their heads a little higher and marched with more pride to the stirring music. All they needed to top off the moment were bagpipes.
The crowd cheered as they wheeled into view. The people in the stands struggled to their feet, clapping, whistling. A wave of emotion rolled over Rod as they marched in front of the crowd. He didn’t dare turn his head and look for his parents—he knew they were out there, but he didn’t want to incur Captain Justice’s wrath, for he knew the officer wouldn’t hesitate to make corrections, no matter where they were.
They snapped to a stop next to Alpha Squadron. Rod forgot about the yelling and screaming that he had been subjected to over the past five hours. In front of him people cheered, waving flags and handkerchiefs, clapping and whistling, holding signs that read: WE LOVE CADETS!
Airplanes roared overhead, one after another, saluting the festivities. A C-97 Stratofreighter lumbered low over the field, followed by an enormous B-36 Peacemaker escorted by a screaming flight of four F-100 fighters. Honor guards from the Army and Naval academies marched smartly past in review, their flags and guidons flying in the wind.
The physical gap between the crowd and candidates was not more than a hundred feet, something that Rod could have easily breached in a few seconds; but the emotional gulf that separated him from his parents seemed to widen even as he stood. Adoration flowed from the crowd, as a siren calling him to military life. It was a final sound of encouragement, a memory that would define his transition into something from which he would never return. Waves of clapping rolled over him, and he basked in the moment.
The band stopped in the middle of a stanza as the last of the cadet wing marched into place. The crowd grew quite with the sudden silence. A group of officers stepped to the center of the field.
Words echoed from loudspeakers as the chaplain gave the invocation. Rod tried to concentrate on what was being said, but he was overwhelmed by the images around him: the flag quietly flapping from the flagpole; a stunning blond girl in a white dress holding a hand over her eyes as she searched for her candidate boyfriend; two small boys off to the side, shooting marbles by the stands.
Rod felt transfixed, as if he was observing the ceremony from afar and not participating. The Secretary of the Air Force started the dedication speech by reading a congratulatory letter from President Eisenhower. He caught snippets of the words:
“We now stand at the crest in that upward climb. At last, the uncertainties, the turmoil of the past have given way to a great national institution dedicated to the leadership of United States airpower.… The Academy is a bridge to the future, gleaming with promise of peace in a stable, sane world.… Our airpower has kept the peace … it is keeping the peace, God willing, it will keep on doing so. This Academy we are founding today will
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