Gulf Shores, Alabama—Thursday, March 1
Bob Varney, chief warrant officer–4, United States Army retired, got a cookie and a cup of coffee from the welcome counter at the bank, then had a seat until he could speak to one of the bank officers.
“Bob?” Joel Dempster called, sticking his head out of his office.
Having finished both his cookie and the coffee, Bob dropped the paper cup into a trash can, then went into Joel’s office.
“I read Summer Kill and Death Town. They were great,” Joel said. “When is your next book coming out?”
“Within a month. It’s Murder in Milwaukee. I’ll be signing at the Page and Canvas in Fairhope when it comes out.”
“Don’t know if I’ll be able to get there, but I’ll for sure buy it.”
“Thanks.”
“I think Hollywood should make a movie of one of your books.”
“From your lips to God’s ear,” Bob said.
“Now, what can I do for you?” Joel asked.
“I was just wondering. I went online to check my account; I didn’t see the deposit for my Army retirement.”
“Yes, I thought that might be why you were here. If it is any consolation to you, it isn’t just you, Bob. There was no deposit for anyone. We got a notice from DFAS that all transactions are being halted while they undergo reorganization.”
“Wow. Really? Everyone?”
“Everyone. You are lucky. With your writing you have another income, a good income, I might add. But as you know there are a lot of military retirees here. And many, if not most of them, depend entirely upon their military retirement and Social Security.”
“I didn’t even check for Social Security.”
“Don’t bother, there was no deposit for it, either.”
“That’s not good,” Bob said.
“I’ll tell you something else that isn’t good. We have been ordered to submit a report to the federal government providing information on the amount of money every depositor has in all accounts.”
“Are you going to do that? Do they have the authority to make you do it?”
“As long as we participate in the FDIC program, we have no choice but to comply.”
“Maybe I should take out what I’ve got in there,” Bob said.
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
“You just deposited a royalty check earlier this week, didn’t you? A rather substantial check?”
“Yes, it was for signing four contracts, and delivery and acceptance of a completed book. A little over forty thousand dollars.”
“At this point any withdrawal, or check, in excess of ten thousand dollars, must be approved by the federal government.”
“Why?”
“I’m sure you have noticed that the economy is a little shaky now, and is getting worse almost by the day. I think this is to prevent a run on the banks.”
“Is the money safe?”
“It is as safe as money is safe,” Joel said. “The problem is, how secure is the American dollar? I’ve been hearing things through the grapevine that make me wonder.”
“Now you are getting me scared,” Bob said. “First you say there are no retirement or Social Security payments, then you say I can’t get the money I do have out of the bank. Joel, what the hell is going on?”
“I wish I could tell you, Bob, I really do. I’ve talked to all the other bankers; we are very worried about this. Banks are only as good as the service they are able to provide to their depositors. When you start breaking that trust, then you are putting into jeopardy a bank’s ability to function. If I were you, and I’m cutting my own throat by telling you this, but if I were you, I would withdraw nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. As long as you don’t go to ten thousand dollars on any one transaction, you are safe.”
“Thanks, Joel, I guess that’s the route I’ll take.”
“Then come back tomorrow and do it again, keep doing it until your account has just a few cents in it.”
“I appreciate you telling me that, Joel,” Bob said. “I’ll do that too.”
“Just write the check here, I’ll cash it. There’s no sense in causing anyone to get curious. And, if you would, be careful about who you tell this to.”
“I will,” Bob promised. “And again, thanks.”
Bob wrote the check and handed it to Joel. Joel left the office, and returned a moment later with the cash in a bank envelope.
“Are you going to rent your house this summer?” Joel asked as he handed the cash to Bob.
“I don’t know if we are, or not,” Bob replied. “By this time last year, we had eight weeks rented already. So far this year, we don’t have so much as a single nibble.”
“I guess folks are a little frightened of what’s ahead,” Joel said.
“Yeah, it sure looks that way.”
Bob got up and stuck his hand out toward Joel. “I appreciate what you are doing for me, Joel.”
“You’re a good customer and an interesting guy,” Joel said. “And, I wouldn’t worry too much about things. I’m sure it’s all going to work out.”
“If not, we’ll just whistle past the graveyard, eh, Joel?”
Joel laughed out loud. “Sounds like a good plan,” he said.
Fort Rucker—Thursday, March 1
From the office of the Commanding General, Fort Rucker, Alabama
Subject: Flight Time
Suspense Date: With immediate effect
1. All facility aircraft are herewith grounded. No flight will be authorized unless it is an emergency flight.
a. Emergency refers to national emergency only.
b. Authorization for emergency must come from Department of Defense.
c. Said authorization will require authenticator.
2. All aviators are hereby ordered to submit flight logbooks showing most recent flying time for analysis of flying patterns.
3. All aircraft maintenance logbooks will be surrendered to flight operations, and all aircraft will be rendered non-flyable by removing lines from fuel tank to fuel controls.
4. Flight school students who have less than 200 flying hours will be dismissed from the course and reassigned to non-flying billets.
5. Flight school students with more than 200 flying hours will be subject to flight instructor’s evaluation for further disposition. If recommended by flight instructor, they will be awarded the wings of a rated aviator.
Distribution:
By Electronic Transfer
For the Commander MG Clifton von Cairns
Joseph A. Wrench
LTC
Avn
Adjutant
“What is this nonsense, Major?” Captain Greenly asked. Greenly was one of the instructor pilots in Environmental Flight Tactics. “All aircraft are grounded?”
“That’s the way I read it,” Jake replied.
“For how long?”
“That I can’t tell you, Len,” Jake replied. “But I can tell you, it doesn’t look good.”
“I’ve only got one student who meets the two hundred-hour requirement, but hell, that’s because he’s so uncoordinated he had to fly extra hours just to keep up. My two best students are still fifteen hours short. What am I going to tell them?”
“Tell them the truth,” Jake said. “At this point it doesn’t matter whether they have their wings or not. Nobody is flying.”
“Have you thought about where that leaves us?” Greenly asked.