And that's how it turned out, although not quite in the negative way I expected. A couple of days later, when I returned from lunch and found a telephone message to call Lt. Gen. Gordon Graham, TAC's vice commander, I knew damned well what the message was going to be. Gordy was a friend, he came on the line and said, "Well, Chuck, you're not gonna like part of what I've got to say."
I sighed. He said, "You know, generals are not allowed to fly their own airplanes except under special circumstances. I'm sure that won't make you happy, but if I know you, you'll find a way to wiggle around it." I said, "What in hell are you talking about?" He replied, "Congratulations, General Yeager."
I came damned close to fainting. "Jesus, Gordy, are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm not. I've got the promotion board list right in front of me and I see the name Charles E. Yeager as brigadier general, U.S. Air Force."
It was a miracle. That board of generals met annually to consider the names of colonels recommended for promotion to general officer by each of the major commands. Each command submitted five or six candidates, making about twenty-five to thirty new generals from the ranks of five thousand full colonels, and I knew General Momyer didn't name me among the six colonels from TAC recommended for promotion. But my perfect deployment record was well known throughout the Air Force, and one of the generals on the board remarked about the absence of my name from TAC's list. I found out that the board asked for my records from the Pentagon, saw the evaluations I had received from General Wilson and General Disosway, and concluded that I deserved promotion. Momyer wasn't even consulted. The board of ten generals published their list and sent it to the Secretary of the Air Force, who, in turn, forwarded it to the Senate to be ratified. The President had to sign it because the number of general officers is controlled by law.
I was just stunned. And elated. Hell, yes, I wanted to become a general before I retired, but I thought my lack of education would probably screw my chances of making it someday. And I sure didn't expect it to happen while I was under Momyer's command. For a guy who came in as a private and worked his way up through the ranks, it was one hell of a wonderful honor. I called Glennis and said, "Hey, you think you can stand living with a general officer around the house?" She said, "It depends. Who do you have in mind?" When I told her, she let out a big whoop.
I remember thinking, "Well, the system never has let me down. In spite of everything, the system is fair and just." Outside of Glennis, the first people I told were my maintenance crews. I went down to the flight line and gave them the word. In the past, if we had a Saturday night wing banquet or party at the officers' club, I would take some of the guests, especially those who had good-looking wives load them in a staff car, and go down on the flight line to show them the airplanes. The kids working night shift really appreciated it, particularly if the wives wore miniskirts. So, I went down and told them, "You guys really helped me get this thing. You're the reason we have the best deployment record in TAC."
I never heard a word from General Momyer. No note of congratulations, nothing. I guess silence was his message, although it was highly unusual for a commanding general not to congratulate a new general in his command. To this day, I really don't know what caused his hostility, and I was nervous that he could somehow get me off that promotion list. But friends at the Pentagon reassured me that the general's hands were tied. I just hoped those ropes were strong.
A few days after learning of my promotion, I flew to Washington to lead the fly-by over the Capitol at President Eisenhower's funeral. The weather was bad, but the guys flying with me were good and we had no problem. That night I went to dinner with some friends from TAC command, and we celebrated my promotion. I said, "That's the way politics can be in the Air Force. You can really get wiped out unless people are pulling for you."
The first time I was referred to as "General Yeager" really was a thrill. It happened a few months later, when Glennis and I boarded a C-141 to fly to Germany to start my new assignment as vice commander of the Seventeenth Air Force. By law, there can be only a limited number of generals, and a newly promoted general can't pin on his star until a vacancy exists. But because of my new assignment, I was authorized to wear my star to Germany, although I would not begin to draw general's pay until the effective date. So we boarded that airplane and the crew chief saluted and said, "Welcome aboard, General Yeager." That really sounded nice. Glennis said, "Well, it took us ten years to get back to Germany, but at least we're going back in style."
We picked up right where we left off with our German friends. In the year-and-a-half we were there, I got to the point where I not only could speak some German, but I could actually make myself understood.
My Job was interesting. I worked closely with the Sixth Allied Tactical Air Force and the West Germans in organizing joint NATO exercises and training. Glennis and I were just in hog heaven. But during Christmas of 1970, I received a call from Air Force headquarters alerting me to a new assignment. The job title was, "U.S. Defense Representative to Pakistan." I asked, "What do we have in Pakistan, and why me?" The answer was I would fly with their air force, help them to train and advise them, especially in the use of Sidewinders. Why me? I had been personally requested for the job by a fellow West Virginian, our ambassador Joe Farland, through the State Department; the Pentagon had kicked it around and finally consented to let me go there.
Hell, I didn't know a thing about the country. I'd been there once, very briefly, stopping off when I rotated into Turkev. I knew it was very primitive and rough country and Moslem. Glennis knew even less. She said, "Where is it on the map?" Susie, who was twenty, was working in the library. I asked them if they wanted to go. They both kind of shrugged. I said, "What the hell, it will be an adventure for all of us." And it really was: I landed in the middle of the Pakistan-Indian war, while Glennis helped to dream up a device that swept the country-colored condoms.
PICKING UP THE PIECES
OTHER VOICES: Glennis Yeager
We were in Pakistan eighteen months, and it took me nearly that long to get over the shock of being sent there. I had barely heard of the country, and the next thing I knew, I was living in Islamabad, the capital city, in a seventeen-room house with eight servants, rapidly going out of my mind in boredom and frustration. I thought to myself, "Boy, would Jackie Cochran love this mess." Those servants about drove me to drink. All of them were men. I had one to cook, one to sew, a driver, a gardener, and a bodyguard. I had one to wash from the floorboards down and one from the floorboards up.
And they were all absolutely useless. Of course the country was extremely poor, with annual average earnings of about seventy-five dollars, and we were the rich Americans who had everything, so those servants wanted only to be fed. They spent the day lining up for meals in the kitchen. For a big house like that, I could've used a couple in help, I suppose but all day long, I tripped over servants who didn't do anything but eat all day. Each day was a new hassle about who was supposed to do what and why. I had a head bearer and I finally said, "Okay, this is it! If you want to keep your job you tell the rest of them what to do every day, and if I don't find it done when I come home at night, that's it."
Those guys made an ugly American out of me, and I was so mad at them that I didn't give a damn. I could've gladly had them shot, and one night I actually had my chance. Chuck was a great people collector, and during his hunting, he met a tribal chief named Malik Atta and invited him home to dinner. The chief accepted and pulled up in front of our place with six bodyguards armed to the teeth. Our servants were so scared serving dinner, they almost dropped the platters. Their knees were knocking, and I made the mistake of complaining about one of them to the chief. I said, "He's lazy and he steals."