"Now, to save time, we do below-the-primary-zone selections a little differently," Ingemanson went on. "Everyone goes through the pile and gives a yes or no opinion of the candidate. The candidate needs four of seven 'yes' votes to go on to round two. This helps thin out the lineup so you can concentrate on the best possible candidates in a shorter period of time. Round two is precisely like a normal scoring routine- minimum six, maximum ten points, in half-point increments. Once we go through and score everyone, we'll resolve the gray areas, then put those candidates in with the other candidates, then rescore and resolve until we have our selectees. We should be finished by tomorrow. We present the entire list to the board on Thursday, get final approval, and sign the list Friday morning and send it off to the Pentagon. We're on the home stretch, boys. Any questions?"
"So what you're saying, sir," Norman observed, "is that these below-the-zone selectees could displace selectees that we've already chosen? That doesn't seem fair."
"That's a statement, not a question, Colonel," Ingemanson said. There was a slight ripple of laughter, but most of the panel members just wanted Norman to shut up. "You're right, of course, Colonel. The BTZ selectees will be so identified, and when their OSRs are compared with the other selectees, you panel members will be instructed that a BTZ selectee must really have an outstanding record in order to bump an in-the-primary-zone or above-the-primary-zone selectee. As you may or may not know, BTZ selectees usually represent less than three percent of all selectees, and it is not unusual for a board to select no BTZ candidates for promotion. But again, that's up to you. No more questions? Comments? Jokes?" Ingemanson did not give anyone a chance to reply. "Good. Have fun, get to work."
The Officer Selection Reports began their circulation around the table, each member receiving a stack of about fifteen. Norman was irked by having to do this chore, but he was intrigued as well. These guys must be really good, he thought, to be chosen for promotion so far ahead of their peers.
But upon opening his first folder, he was disappointed again. The photograph he saw was of a chunky guy with narrow, tense-looking blue eyes, crooked nose, irregular cheeks and forehead, thin blond hair cut too short, uneven helmet-battered ears, a thick neck underneath a shirt that appeared too small for him, and a square but meaty jaw. He wore senior navigator's wings atop two and a half rows of ribbons-one of the smallest numbers of ribbons Norman had seen in six days of scrutinizing personnel files. The uniform devices appeared to be on straight, but the Class A uniform blouse looked as if it had a little white hanger rash on the shoulders, as if it had hung in the closet too long and had just been taken out for the photograph.
He was ready to vote "no" on this guy right away, but he didn't want to pass the folder too early, so he glanced at the Officer Effectiveness Reports. What in hell were they thinking-this guy wasn't anywhere ready to be promoted two years ahead of his peers! He had only been to two assignments in eight years, not including training schools. Up until recently, he was a line navigator-an instructor, yes, but still basically a line officer, virtually the same as a second lieutenant fresh out of tech school. Sure, he had won a bunch of trophies at the Strategic Air Command Giant Voice Bombing and Navigation Competition, and several ratrs had called him "the best bombardier in the nation, maybe the world."
But one rater, a year before he left his first PCS assignment, had only rated him "Above Average," not "Outstanding." He didn't have a "firewalled" OER. One of his last raters at his first assignment had said "A few improvements will result in one of the Air Force's finest aviators." Translation: He had problems that he apparently wasn't even trying to fix. He wasn't officer material, let alone a candidate for early promotion! He wasn't even promotable, let alone leadership material! How in the world did he even get promoted to major?
What else? A master's degree, yes, but only Squadron Officer School done, by correspondence-no advanced leadership schools. What in hell was he doing with his time? One temporary assignment with the U.S. Border Security Force-which went bust before the end of its third year, disgraced and discredited. His OERs at his second PCS assignment in Las Vegas were very good. His last OER had one three-star and two four-star raters-the four-star raters were the chief of staff of the Air Force and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a very impressive achievement. But there were very few details of exactly what he did there to deserve such high-powered raters. He had some of the shortest rater's comments Norman had ever seen-lots of "Outstanding officer," "Promote immediately," and "A real asset to the Air Force and the nation" type comments, but no specifics at all. His flying time seemed almost frozen-obviously he wasn't doing much flying. No flying, but no professional military schools? One temporary assignment, totally unrelated to his primary field? This guy was a joke.
And he didn't have a runner's chin. Norman could tell immediately if a guy took care of himself, if he cared about his personal health and appearance, by looking at the chin. Most runners had firm, sleek chins. Nonexercisers, especially nonrunners, had slack chins. Slack chins, slack attitudes, slack officers.
Norman marked Patrick S. McLanahan's BTZ score sheet with a big fat "No," and he couldn't imagine any other panel member, even Harry Ponce, voting to consider this guy for a BTZ promotion. Then, he had a better idea.
For the first time as a promotion board member, Norman withdrew an Air Force Form 772-"Recommendation for Dismissal Based on Substandard OSR," and he filled it out. A rated officer who didn't fly, who was obviously contently hiding out at some obscure research position in Las Vegas twiddling his thumbs, was not working in the best interest of the Air Force. This guy had almost nine years in service, but it was obvious that it would take him many, many years to be prepared to compete for promotion to lieutenant colonel. The Air Force had an "up or out" policy, meaning that you could be passed over for promotion to lieutenant colonel twice. After that, you had to be dismissed. The Air Force shouldn't wait for this guy to shape up. He was a waste of space.
A little dedication to yourself and dedication to the Air Force might help, Norman silently told the guy as he signed the AFF772, recommending that McLanahan be stripped of his regular commission and either sent back to the Reserves or, better, dismissed from service altogether. Try getting off your ass and do some running, for a start. Try to act like you give a damn…
Mother Nature picked that night to decide to dump an entire week's worth of rain on Diego Garcia-it was one of the worst tropical downpours anyone had seen on the little island in a long time. The British civilian contracted shuttle bus wasn't authorized to go on the southeast side of the runway, and Patrick wasn't going to wait for someone to pick him up, so he ran down the service road toward the Air Force hangar. He had already called ahead to the security police and control tower, telling them what he was going to do, but in the torrential storm, it was unlikely anyone in the tower could see him. Patrick made it to the outer perimeter fence to the Air Force hangar just as one of the security units was coming out in a Humvee to pick him up.
Patrick dashed through security in record time, then ran to the hangar to his locker for a dry flight suit. Inside he saw maintenance techs preparing both Megafortress flying battleships for fueling and weapons preloading. Patrick decided to grab his thermal underwear and socks too-it looked as if he might be going flying very soon.