History, Politics And Current Affairs

Called it! Sophie convinced Josh to come to AthenaSoft!

Wolfman wrote: ↑Tue Jun 20, 2023 1:52 pm Called it! Sophie convinced Josh to come to AthenaSoft!

He did it just before the hearing. Josh convinced Sophie to relocate AthenaSoft to Pocatello.

Going to be a very different corporate culture. Don't bother looking for the C-suite peeps the first week of deer season.

That part I never said a thing about…

Wolfman wrote: ↑Tue Jun 20, 2023 9:19 pm That part I never said a thing about…

I just realized that would be what's going to happen...

Poohbah wrote: ↑Tue Jun 20, 2023 4:37 pm

Wolfman wrote: ↑Tue Jun 20, 2023 1:52 pm Called it! Sophie convinced Josh to come to AthenaSoft!

He did it just before the hearing. Josh convinced Sophie to relocate AthenaSoft to Pocatello.

Going to be a very different corporate culture. Don't bother looking for the C-suite peeps the first week of deer season.

You schedule the meetings at hunting lodge so you write the cost off your taxes.

FYI, Gunsite at one time didn't count you took off for hunting against your leave.

*Shakes head* The things you learn about on a forum…

Wolfman wrote: ↑Fri Jul 14, 2023 1:51 pm *Shakes head* The things you learn about on a forum…

More fun also.

18 July 1993
Mantell Family Residence
Portneuf, ID

Jeanna was nursing Avery, Helen, was nursing Little Bobbi, Roberta was playing with J. Z., and Debs was watching Josh play with Kathy.

The phone rang, and Debs reached over to grab it.

"Mantell Residence."

She handed the phone to Josh. "It's boss-ma'am."

Josh took the phone and said, "Good afternoon, boss-ma'am, what's up?"

Debs took over, playing with Kathy.

"Josh, Governor Murphy just made an appearance on Face the Nation, and he decided to salvage his recent reverses by proposing something new and shiny. He wants a Special Recon Squadron assigned to the Guard."

"Not a bad idea in itself, might even be a good idea."

"Agreed. But he also proposed a commanding officer. One Joshua Joseph Mantell."

"Sophie, I had nothing to do with it."

"I know you didn't. You would've proposed Colonel Nighthorse or Colonel Lowery."

"Am I that predictable?"

"Dude, nothing but God's love for you, but you've got a major case of hero worship for those two. Then again, so do I. So, you're about to get a WTF call from the Big A-1 shop in Philly. Tell them what you told me, and then be ready to visit Boise and have a grip-and-grin with Governor Murphy, and explain to him why it's not going to happen."

* * *

The Air Force's personnel chief, Major General George Price, asked, "Captain Mantell, have you had any contact with Governor Murphy's office regarding this proposal?"

"No, sir, nor about anything else. Had he done so, I would've recommended someone else for the position--I am nowhere near ready for squadron command, sir."

"I see. Who would you have recommended?"

"Either Lieutenant Colonel Roland Nighthorse or Lieutenant Colonel Mark Lowery, sir."

"23rd Air Force suggested those two as well. So I'm assuming there's a consensus in the field."

"Yes, sir, there is. They're both highly regarded as operators and leaders--and not just as troop leaders, but also as thought leaders. They took back-to-back Fairchild Paper awards at the Air War College in 1990 and 1991, and they've led the charge on developing AFSOC doctrine after the war, sir."

"All right. Would you be averse to serving in a Guard unit as an Air Force Reservist?"

"No, sir."

"All right, here's the game plan: you're going to meet with Governor Murphy on Tuesday, do a grip-and-grin, and he's going to admit that he didn't quite understand Air Force and Air National Guard personnel policies, et cetera. You will be assigned to the 124th Special Reconnaissance Squadron--"

"Ah, sir, may I make a suggestion regarding the designation?"

"It'll be assigned to the 124th Wing. What designation do you think it should get?"

"Sir, the active squadrons--the 3rd, 7th, 10th, and 8th--and the Air Force Reserve squadrons--2nd, 4th, and 11th--all trace their lineage back to Regular Army Cavalry regiments."

"Why is that?"

"The Special Reconnaissance mission is analogous to the mounted cavalry mission: first, to serve as the commander's eyes, informing him of the enemy's location, strength, and movement; and secondly, as appropriate to the mission, to find, fix, and strike the enemy sua sponte, sir. For a National Guard unit, I'd recommend using a designation parallel to the state's National Guard cavalry regiment--in this case, the 116th Cavalry Regiment, retaining their history and traditions, sir."

Price was silent for a moment, then said, "I like it; lineage and tradition are important. I'll push that up to the heraldry people. So, you're going to be a flight leader in the 116th Special Reconnaissance Squadron, Idaho National Guard, as an AFRES augmentee until the state can produce enough SROs. In the meantime, what's your plan?"

"Sir, either to proactively visit Governor Murphy, or to wait to be summoned by him, and explain behind closed doors why this is a bad idea."

"Wait to be summoned, it shows respect for your elders."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

21 July 1993
Governor's Office
Boise, ID

Mantell did "grip and grin" photos with Governor Murphy for fifteen minutes, at which point the governor's chief of staff herded the reporters out.

Murphy escorted Mantell to a chair. Mantell waited until Murphy sat down, then took his seat.

"So, Captain Mantell, I've gotten some . . . feedback . . . on my suggestion."

Mantell waited.

"Captain, I need to know: if I insisted, would you accept the billet of squadron commanding officer?"

"No, sir, I would refuse no matter what. There are many officers far more qualified than I am for the billet. I'm far too inexperienced in matters of day-to-day administration, financial management,mission planning, and so on, to be able to do the job effectively."

Murphy sighed. "Guess I leaned a little too far forward in the saddle and fell flat on my face." He chuckled, then said, "I understand that the Air Force is willing to allow you to serve with the unit until we have enough Air National Guard personnel qualified across the six-state area--we are going to be splitting the unit between Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Montana, and Wyoming. I'm okay with that. The headquarters will be here at Gowen Field, and so will Alpha Flight."

* * *

24 July 1993
Mantell Family Residence
Portneuf, ID

The evening news was on. Governor Murphy was talking with a reporter from KBOI. "Sandra, when you get down to it, I had an idea that wasn't quite ready for prime time. Captain Mantell did me the courtesy of explaining exactly why he's not qualified for the position at this time. I do hope that, in the fullness of time, he will be able to command the squadron. By all accounts, he's a fine officer, and I--along with the Air Force--expect him to continue growing in knowledge, skill, and ability."

Jeanna smiled. "And that's that."

* * *

27 September 1993
Mantell Family Residence
Portneuf, ID

Josh stepped into the house, dropped some papers on the kitchen table, and headed up the stairs without a word.

Helen looked up the stairs and said, "He's about as badly shocked as when he learned Kathy died."

Roberta picked up the papers, glanced at them, and then said, "Jeanna . . . I think this is your department."

* * *

Jeanna stepped into Josh's suite to find him lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

She sat down on the floor, next to his chest, and looped his arm around her.

"Want to talk about it, darling?"

Josh sighed, then said, "Don't even know where to begin."

"Well, let's start with Josh Mantell. He's a wonderful guy."

"I get distracted by shiny objects, I have a temper that, when it finally does run out, violates multiple nuclear test ban treaties--"

"--and you therefore do one hell of a job of managing that temper. All of us in this house have our flaws, darling. We all love each other anyway. But let me guess: you got freaked out by the compensation report you left on the kitchen table."

"Got it one, honey. Look, I'm just another middle-class kid from San Diego. I have no fucking idea--"

"Josh."

Josh shut up.

"A lie ill-becomes a recipient of our nation's highest awards for valor. You aren't just any old middle-class kid from San Diego. And you damn well know it. Tell, me Josh, why did you enlist? And please spare me that pabulum you told Roberta about needing to grow into manhood."

Josh was quiet for a long moment.

"This is going to sound stupid."

"Only to those who don't believe in anything, Josh. There's a whole lot less of that going around these days. Trust me, I believe in certain things very fervently now. Please tell me."

"All right. It boiled down to . . . well, I was a fortunate son. Not on your family's level. But . . . look, you ever hear what Cecil Rhodes said about being born English?"

"Remember that you are an Englishman, and have consequently won first prize in the lottery of life."

"Yeah, he only got one part wrong. I was born an American . . . and that really is winning first prize in the lottery of life. Call it . . . duty . . . call it repayment . . . "

"The term you're searching for is noblesse oblige. 'Nobility has its obligations.' You have been given not just that first prize of being born American, but you got second prize in that were raised to adulthood by exceptionally decent parents, just as I was--and you then got third prize, possessing tremendous gifts and skills in technical fields that I barely understand. I just got handed a bunch of money. You found new ways to create wealth.

"You recognized that you are especially blessed, and you opted to serve in peacetime, with the international situation going to hell in a handbasket, knowing that there was a real chance of going to war. That was pure noblesse oblige. Staying in the Reserves? Same thing."

Jeanna watched Josh's expression.

"What's on your mind, honey?"

"Thinking back to a moment in high school. Our American Government teacher--me, Sophie, and Adam were all in his class. One day, after a particularly tedious round of America-bashing, Adam told the teacher to pick a better country. Ended up getting sent to the Vice Principal's office over it."

"Wait, isn't he from Argentina?"

"His Dad was an expat until the Dirty War, he's technically a dual citizen. Thing is, Adam went and became a Combat Controller straight out of high school, he was from the rich end of the enrollment area, and Del Cerro is a very high end neighborhood. Adam once told me that he spent his first year in the States terrified out of his wits if more than one car pulled up on the street, until he realized that in the United States, we don't make people disappear. He later became a clandestine ops guy.

Jeanna nodded. "Noblesse Oblige once again. He knew the better portion, and he was willing to give his life for it. And Sophie's the same way. The same thing that has Uncle Michael serving as head of The Firm--because it is a job that needed doing, and your upbringing didn't let you say 'Let George do it.'" She paused, then asked, "So why did Adam get out?"

"Sophie asked him to as a condition of getting married. She wanted to make sure her home front was covered."

"Gotcha. So, you have used the gifts given you--your good character, your skills in computer security, your leadership and management skills, everything--and you've struck it big. You're now the big breadwinner in this family, you blew past me like I'm standing still, despite my trust fund and my real estate development efforts."

"All right. So, I'm far more blessed than I was ten years ago. Now what?"

Jeanna said, "The important thing to remember is you have acquired an obligation to take a very long view. It's not just about raising your kids anymore. It's about preserving . . . land, culture, tradition, and people. Not just your family, not just your employees. Not just the local community, even. But helping preserve America."

Josh sighed. "That's big."

"Look, for me, it was ingrained into me practically from birth. It's not complicated. You just need to learn the fine details. First, save ten, invest ten, and then give ten. Ten percent each--at least. Keep some in the bank for emergencies, invest some for our family's future--the idea is building generational wealth. And then give some to worthy causes--religious and secular alike. Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, care for the sick, seek to do justice, and leave things better than how you found them. Find a school worth supporting and donate a library in honor of your parents, that kind of thing. Next, always remember that you are exercising stewardship of the resources you gain not just for the family today, but for generations to come. Now, enjoy some nice things--you've earned them with hard work, after all. But always keep some perspective."

Josh nodded. "And that reminds me--I want our kids doing chores around the house. I don't want them becoming princelings of the manor."

"Now you're getting it. Mom had me doing my own laundry at eight."

Josh chuckled, then said, "My mom just handed me the detergent box at ten and told me to figure it out."

They shared a laugh.

"Josh . . . I don't know why this frightened you so."

"Honey, it's easy to understand those first principles when you're a dumbass Lance Corporal making a munificent $816.90 a month plus $100 in flight pay. Save ten? Yeah, that's 91 bucks a month. Donate to Navy Relief and the Combined Federal Campaign. I managed to put some money in mutual funds. But it's something else entirely when Sophie tells you 'Here's a check for fifteen million for just this quarter's profit share, minus Uncle Sugar's cut, and remember that you also own about 16% of the company. Oh, yeah, we're planning going public in 1995 or so.' I was a little freaked out."

"Josh . . . just remember, you're not alone. We're here for you, always."

She turned in his embrace and kissed him.

The kiss evolved into some good old-fashioned making out, and things were moving well along when Roberta asked, "Am I interrupting anything?"

Jeanna said, "Yes. Let me guess, dinner is ready."

"Got it in one."

* * *

After dinner, Josh helped put their children in bed, read a couple chapters from a biography of Paul Revere, and then took a shower.

When he came out, he saw that Roberta and Jeanna were snuggled together on the bed.

Debs and Helen came in, Debs making her way to the bed with a wide grin. She held up a pregnancy test and smiled. "Looks like #5 is on the way!" She paused just long enough to give Josh a kiss, then climbed onto the bed and snuggled next to Roberta, Helen following her.

Helen said, "All right, looks like we're going for it!"

Josh blinked, then said, "Huh?'

Great, you sound really intelligent there.

Debs and Helen scooted sideways a bit, and Debs patted the bed between her and Roberta.

"Right there, sweetie. We're all having our way with you tonight."

"Seriously?"

Helen said, "That's the plan."

Josh said, "Amateurs talk strategy, professionals talk logistics."

Jeanna smiled and said, "The logistics from your end are easy. Just lie back and think of America, darling."

Josh was laughing as he climbed onto the bed.

When you said Lt. Col Nighthorse, I was thinking you meant the one from War of the Worlds, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094578/?ref_=fn_al_tt_6. Only problem, his first name is Paul.

Given a little luck you should have a deep talent bench for the SRS in that area.

11 June 2005
Cougar Bay
Lake Couer d'Alene

The vacation rental was clean and bright. Kathy Mantell quickly unpacked her bags and stowed her clothes.

Her mother--known to everyone else as "Mama Debs"--and Mama Jeanna were making a pitcher of lemonade and some sandwiches.

"Can I help?"

Her mom answered, "Could you set the table out on the patio, please?"

"Sure."

* * *

Kathy always felt gangly and awkward next to her mother and Mama Jeanna. The fact that she'd only recently gotten her braces off didn't make things any easier.

Her mom asked, "Kathy, has anything been bothering you lately?"

Kathy was quiet for a moment, then asked, "What does noblesse oblige mean, exactly? I mean, it shut Dad right up, but I don't think it means 'shut up' or anything like that."

Kathy's mother rolled her eyes, and Jeanna sighed. "Debs, honey, we were having that argument right under her bedroom window."

"I thought she was in the kitchen, doing her homework."

Kathy said, "When you went outside, yeah. But I was almost done."

Her mother let out a long breath. "I have to remember you're growing up, even though you'll always be my little girl. How much did you hear?"

"Dad was asking you to think about leaving the Sheriff's Office--he didn't demand it, he just asked you to think about it." She paused, then said, "This is about that shooting you were involved with, isn't it?"

Debs nodded. "Yeah. Officer-involved shootings are never good, but this one was really bad. And this time it got to me, here." Debs tapped her breastbone.

Kathy nodded.

"Well . . . a man named Doug Tolliver sprained his ankle that night, and it swelled up almost instantly. So he went to the ER. They were setting up to give his ankle an MRI, to make sure he didn't have a ruptured tendon. They left him in the patient bay for about ten minutes . . . and then he came out. He grabbed a fire axe--he just punched through the glass on the box face--and started trying to kill everyone in the ER.

"I was there dealing with a kid who'd managed to drink enough Jagermeister to give herself alcohol poisoning. When he came out, his face was . . . blank. Like he wasn't feeling anything, one way or another. He wasn't happy, or sad, or angry . . . just . . . blank."

Debs took a long breath, then slowly let it out. "I tried to talk to him--but he instead just swung at a middle-aged lady who was just sitting there, frozen. So . . . I shot him. He tried to get back up, so I shot him again. And again. They pulled sixteen bullets out of him corpse at the autopsy. And the thing is . . . I'd do it again."

"Mom, he was trying to kill innocent people. that makes him a bad guy, right?"

"Look, Douglas Tolliver wasn't a bad guy before that moment. Ever. He had . . . well, he had a hard time during and after the war. I've had to arrest him for being drunk and disorderly because, sometimes, the memories showed up and the only way for him to make them go away was to drink himself unconscious. But he was always a good man, and he apologized for his failings every morning. We'd get him cleaned up, he'd go in front of the judge and plead guilty, and say, 'no excuse, Your Honor.'

"And this is like the fourth case I've heard of through the grapevine involving someone becoming a damn killing machine in the ER. None of them survived to get questioned, either. Dad is funding a research program to find out what's going on. Because trend this scares him."

Kathy said, "You don't talk much about your wartime experiences beyond meeting Dad and the rest of the family when you were at Luke."

Debs nodded. "You're right. I don't."

Jeanna took her hand and said, "Debs, darling . . . Kathy's growing up. There's things she needs to know." She paused, then said, "I'm your wife. I'll never stop loving you; I loved you even before we realized we loved Josh. I will never, ever think any less of you. Everyone had awful things happen to them; that's why we want a world at peace for Kathy and the rest of the kids to come of age in, so they don't happen again. But she needs to learn about it some time. And she needs to learn about noblesse oblige."

Debs nodded. "All right."

* * *

September 4th, 1985
McConnell Air Force Base
Wichita, KS

Airman Sergeant Debs MacAllaster, the dorm floor NCO, was woken up by an explosion--and jolted fully awake by the sound of gunfire in the dormitory parking lot.

Senior Airman Theresa Cauley--a personnel clerk--went to the window to look down to the parking lot. "What in the hell--"

"STAY AWAY FROM THE WINDOW--"

A burst of gunfire tore through the window and Cauley. Debs rolled out of bed and low-crawled to where her friend lay, ignoring the broken glass.

Cauley bled out in minutes, despite Debs' best efforts at first aid.

Debs hastily threw on cammies and boots, and crawled out of her room. Some fellow CSPs were there, but mostly it was cooks, clerks, bakers, and candlestick makers.

"All right, here's the plan. We head down to the second floor, and go out the windows on the south side, drop straight onto the grass and roll. If we try to go down to the first floor, the stairs open out on the lobby and we all get scragged. Got it? Anyone who can't run after that, just lie there like you're dead. Those of us who can, we run to the armory, cut through to the far side of Dorm 220, and down the street, away from the flight line. Got it?"

Two dozen women nodded.

Of these, 18 were able to start the run to the armory.

Of those, 7 made it.

* * *

"18 women dead or wounded under my first command. And my CO thought I was a damn hero."

Kathy felt as if she could smell the gunpowder, and feel the blood.

"I had no idea, Mom."

Her mother let out a long sigh.

"First time I've ever told the whole story. Even to Mama Jeanna, and I married her well before we married your father."

* * *

Jeanna asked, "Kathy . . . you know the parable of the talents, right?"

Kathy nodded. "Yes. 'To whom much is given, much will be required.'" She paused, then said, "Dad always says that, along with 'Remember that you are an American, and already have won first prize in the lottery of life.' I mean . . . I get that he loves America passionately. At least as much as he loves all four of you, or me, or my siblings. But it goes . . . way beyond that."

Jeanna smiled. "Next time you go to see Uncle Michael and your cousins . . . you need to talk him into seeing the old neighborhood. It's . . . not what you're growing up with."

"Well, he doesn't say he was poor--"

Debs chuckled. "Sweetie . . . he understands what really poor is like. I grew up . . . not poor, but it was even more modest than what Dad experienced. But he wasn't born into a rich family. He got to where he is through hard work, education, and developing himself--as did his father, who really did grow up poor. That's what he loves most about America. You can go as far as you want."

Jeanna said, "You've heard of 'giving back' and the like. Noblesse oblige is partly that--but it's a lot more. It literally means 'nobility obligates.' Privileged birth obligates you to develop the skills of stewardship--caring for the land, caring for your investments and money, caring for the people who work for you--and caring for the society that allows you to prosper with so little actual effort. And that care isn't just aimed at today, or the coming fiscal year . . . but you have to think about the generations to come, not even just your children, but your great-grandchildren who might not be born until after you've passed away. It means that you have to understand that everything--including your privilege--comes with a price that must be paid. That price must be paid to those who work for you--and it must be paid upward as well. In feudal times, they would say 'my liege' and 'my lord,' to show that there was a bond of loyalty. A good noble would remember that loyalty was a two-way street, and that the vassal saying 'my liege' was owed protection, justice, and prudent governance in return for his fealty."

Kathy was silent for a long time, visibly pondering Jeanna's words.

"And that's also why Dad is a reservist, and Aunt Sophie as well?"

Jeanna nodded. "And it's why your mother is a deputy. Because they all feel the obligation to serve in that way. Because they believe that Bannock County and America are worth preserving."

* * *

Kathy lay awake in her bed, pondering the day's discussions.

What should I do?

She rolled on her side, then decided to get up. She knelt next to her bed and remembered what her mother's friend, Rabbi Levy, had said.

God is the still, small voice, Kathy. You have to learn how to listen to Him. He's not going to come down from the heavens with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir as His backup singers. The most He ever does is load the dice when nobody's looking.

She took a few slow breaths, then said,

"God . . . I guess I believe You're out there. Please help me understand what I should do with my life. Help me to listen to You. Amen."

For some duty never ends.

jemhouston wrote: ↑Sat Feb 17, 2024 11:20 am For some duty never ends.

So Say We All.

About the McConnell Air Force Base attack, considering it was a surprise attack in CONUS, she did a good job.

Considering no one was expecting an attack of that sort, she did the best she could.

Matt Wiser wrote: ↑Sun Feb 18, 2024 5:53 am Considering no one was expecting an attack of that sort, she did the best she could.

Doesn’t mean she isn’t attacked by the faster/better/strongers.

True, but the Spetsnatz and the Cuban TE (Trained by said Spetsnatz) raised a lot of hell..

And she is still dealing with survivor's guilt all these years later.

Century High School
Pocatello, ID
September 9th, 2008

Coach Julie Baines watched her students running laps on the track during 1st period senior PE. She'd taken her measure of them during the previous week, and found Kathy Mantell to be one of her more interesting students.

Mantell was finishing up her first lap--which she used as a warmup. When the tall teenager passed the base of the goalpost, Baines hit the start button on her stopwatch, and Mantell really started running.

One lap later, Baines hit the lap button--and her eyes went wide. She's faster than some of the girls on the varsity track team!

Mantell pounded out two miles in under twelve minutes and then did one more lap for cooldown. Baines waved her over.

"Mantell, what the hell are you doing in a generic physical education class and not going out for track?"

"Ma'am . . . I'm not doing this because I'm looking to go into sports."

Baines raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"I'm preparing to go into Air Force Special Operations."

"You're from one of the wealthiest families in the Portneuf Valley--"

"The second wealthiest, to be exact, ma'am. And the family patriarch--my father--is a fully qualified Air Force Special Tactics Officer actively drilling with the Air Force Reserve. As is the matriarch of the bar-none wealthiest family in this neck of the woods--and said matriarch is also my father's boss."

Baines' jaw dropped.

"Careful, ma'am, it's a tad buggy today."

Baines closed her mouth, then said, "Why you?"

"Why not me, ma'am? Nobility has obligations, and privilege has to be paid for."

Baines said nothing for a long moment.

Finally, she nodded, then said, "All right, then. Good luck."

* * *

Mantell Residence
Portneuf, ID
September 19th, 2008

Kathy studied the brochures carefully and noted what she'd need to do.

There was a knock at her bedroom door. She called, "It's open."

Her mother stepped into her room.

"Honey, can we talk?"

"Sure, Mom."

Her mother grabbed one of the spare chairs and sat down. She gestured to the brochures. "Following in your father's footsteps?"

"If I can." Kathy sighed. "It's pretty daunting, to be honest. But I'm going to give it everything I have." She paused, then looked her mother in the eye. "Because nobility has obligations."

Her mom was silent for a long moment, then took a piece of paper out of a pocket of her blazer and passed it to Kathy. "All right, I need you to do two things. I want you to memorize these names. They were the women who followed me on Day One and didn't make it."

Kathy nodded. "I will. What's the other thing?"

"Ask your father about your namesake. Because that's another risk."

* * *

Josh Mantell watched his daughter head out the door and hop into Betty Marston's Mustang convertible. She waved bye, and Betty drove off. Music was playing on the stereo.

Debs came up next to him. "The Mantell tradition lives on."

Josh looked at Debs. "How's that?"

"A Mantell always scores the prettiest girl available."

Josh blinked. "Uh, what?"

Roberta came down the stairs and said, "I don't think he knew the score, Debs." She then said, "Your eldest daughter, in case you haven't figured it out by now, likes boys and girls."

Josh said, "Oh."

* * *

The next day, Kathy knocked on the door of her father's office.

"Enter!"

She stepped inside and found her father sitting on the sofa.

"Dad, I have a question for you."

Her father nodded.

"Mom told me to ask you about who I'm named for."

Her father's face grew . . . distant.

"Just a second."

He went to his desk and picked up a portrait of a gorgeous brunette in Air Force Combo Ones. Major's oak leaves were on her shoulders.

"Well, Kathy, this woman is your namesake. Gadarene Susanna Barzanian, born in Soviet Armenia. Her father brought his family across the Armenian-Turkish border in 1964, and had the good fortune to encounter a young captain named Samuel Lodge."

"Uncle Sam?"

Her father nodded. "One and the same. They came to America and the family settled in Fresno, California. Omer Barzanian anglicized his children's names so that they'd be proper Americans, so she became Katherine Susan Barzanian. She went to San Diego State University and graduated in 1982, and was commissioned into Air Force Intelligence. She was a field operative, one of the best--and she was the woman I loved."

Kathy felt her father's sadness. "What happened to her?"

"She was murdered by a renegade faction in American intelligence. But she managed to get the information she'd gathered on that group over to me--and in a damned clever way that only I could figure out, at that--and I worked with your Aunt Sophie, Uncle Adam, and Uncle Sam to take them down. She's buried in the family plot in Fresno."

Kathy was silent for a moment, then asked, "And you named me after her?"

Her father shook his head. "No, your mother, and all three of her sister wives, told me over dinner that you were going to be named Katherine after her, and Melissa after Mama Jeanna's mother, and I'd learned by that point to simply nod and say, 'Copy all' when all four of them agreed on something."

Kathy nodded. If Dad disagreed with her, that was one thing; she might change his mind with a rational argument. Arguing with all four of her mothers was akin to trying to run through a reinforced concrete wall.

Dad was quiet for a long moment, then asked, "You want to go into Special Reconnaissance?"

"I'm thinking more along the lines of Combat Controller. Calling in the rain. But Special Recon is my second choice, especially because it's absorbed combat weather."

Her father nodded. "An honorable profession. It's pretty demanding, though. When I went through Eglin, on more than one occasion I thought of saying "screw it" and going back to Fifth Marine Division, that school was actually tougher than live combat."

"Amat Victoria curam."

Dad raised an eyebrow.

"Victory loves careful preparation, Dad. Or, as General Schwartzkopf put it, 'the more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war.' I know it's going to be tough. I want it to be tough. Because if the trumpet ever sounds, I'm going to need to be as sharp as I can be."

Josh nodded. "Smart girl. Break-break, whatever you do, do NOT break Betty Marston's heart."

"Dad, we're not that serious. Mostly, we talk. Sometimes, we snuggle, always with clothes fully on. She's . . . she's uncertain of herself. I'm not taking her to bed if she's not ready."

"How will you know if she's ready?"

"If she ever climbs into my lap and starts undoing my blouse, I'm going to assume she's ready."

Her Dad said, "Well, that's probably a good working assumption."

* * *

Josh snuggled behind Debs, who was browning a mixture of beef, oats, garlic, spices, cheese, and tomato sauce in a skillet.

"That perfume you're wearing is amazing."

"I'm making stuffed peppers, darling."

Josh kissed her neck and whispered, "Got any plans this evening?"

Debs giggled. "I guess I do now."

* * *

After dinner, Josh played Carrier War with his eldest son. They were playing the "Forward in the Pacific" scenario, covering the northern Solomons and the Central Pacific.

Josh said, "Going all the way back to right when we annexed the Philippines, the Navy knew that fighting a war in the Pacific was going to be a tough proposition. Mahan called the situation in the Pacific 'the tyranny of distance.' We had to learn a whole new way of fighting wars."

Zach looked at the map and sighed. "Yeah. That's a lot of blue stuff." He looked at his task force displays, moved some ships from one task force box to others, then began his move.

Josh watched as his son, playing the Japanese, moved additional long-range aircraft into the Central Solomons from Rabaul. Either he's bluffing, or he's going to play very aggressively from the get-go. He looked at his own setup and mentally weighed whether to hold off a turn in the Central Pacific, or to just go all in on a Rabaul campaign. You can't be everywhere, son, but the US Navy can float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

They played through a few turns, the elder Mantell opting to make a feint toward the northern Solomons and then cutting back toward the Marshalls--bypassing the Gilberts--when Zach had to redeploy aircraft back to Rabaul. The results were much bloodier than in actual history--the Enterprise and Intrepid were both sunk--but the Gilberts were cut off, the last survivors of Kido Butai were gone along with 3 CVLs in The Battle of the Marshalls, and the Gilberts and Marianas were looking like a mere formality for the next round of play.

* * *

Zach said, "I've applied to the Air Force Academy."

His father nodded. "I figured either there or Annapolis. You looking for fighters?"

Zach nodded.

"Hard work."

"Nobody ever drowned in sweat, Dad. And Kathy's all in on being an operator. I have to do something useful. Can't let my big sister show me up."

* * *

Josh was lying in bed reading a Joe Pickett novel by C. J. Box when Debs came into the bedroom, followed by Roberta.

Josh blinked, and Roberta said, "We both need to talk to you, darling." She sighed. "I take it Zach told you."

Josh nodded, put a bookmark in the novel, and put it up on the headboard shelf.

Debs said, "And I'm assuming you wanted to talk to me about Kathy."

"Am I that transparent?"

Roberta giggled. "Yes. You upended a schedule that all four of your wives had carefully negotiated, something that you never do without good and pressing reason."

Debs said, "No worries, Helen and Jeanna are currently snuggling together, probably in the early stages of making out and/or foreplay, and both fully approve of the swap-out."

Both women climbed into bed with him, Debs on his left, Roberta on his right. He kissed each in turn, and marveled at how life had turned out.

Roberta said, "He wants to fly jets."

Debs said, "He really wants to fly on the Artemis program--maybe even to Mars." She smiled at Roberta. "He's got your spirit. Your way of architectural design involves a lot of site visits. You want to see the world; Zach wants to see as many worlds as he can."

Roberta sighed. "And he's got the heart of a cavalier . . . or a hussar. He does whatever seems dashing. Kathy's way more serious--even when she's playing, she's very focused."

Debs snuggled against him and said, "I'm . . . scared. She's young, and she's still immortal in her heart."

Josh nodded. "I never quite realized I was mortal until June of '85, when I fell out of a helicopter. And I didn't handle it well."

Debs looked at Roberta. "Seriously? He did?"

"Seriously. He was dangling by his gunner's belt. That night, he was laughing it off, and I thought he was crazy."

Josh said, "I was, when you think about it."

Roberta sighed. "When you're that age, there's no easy way to admit that you're scared."

Josh said, "I learned that adrenalin came in two colors."

Debs looked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, yellow and brown."

Debs said, "Oh, behave!"

Roberta smiled. "Why should he? We all aim to misbehave."

Josh nudged Debs slightly in one of her favorite places, and she sucked in her breath. She managed to gasp, "That we do."

Roberta reached up and turned out the light.

I can't worry about something is about to up end all this?

jemhouston wrote: ↑Tue Feb 20, 2024 12:08 pm I can't worry about something is about to up end all this?

What can possibly go wrong with a second generation of AFSOC operators?