The Cadet (23 page)

Rod knew that some of the guys met their girlfriends various places on campus; he wasn’t that naïve. It was against the regs, and if they were ever discovered, they’d be marching tours for the next few months. It was bad enough that Fred would break the regs, but it irked Rod that his roommate flaunted his disobedience.

Nonetheless, the library was one of the many authorized places cadets could go, and when the AUTHORIZED card outside the dorm room was flagged, cadets attested on their honor they were in an authorized area—and the worst that would happen to them would be that they would get caught and march tours for disobeying a regulation.

But if Fred had gone to an unauthorized place, such as parking with Janet in her car when he had indicated that he was “authorized” by virtue of his card—then he had lied.

Or had he?

Was it just a misunderstanding? Was it an off-hand comment by Fred that Rod had taken too seriously?

Add to that, things didn’t seem right whenever Fred was around money.

The biggest was that both Gould and Sly had been shortchanged. Fred’s excuse that their classmates had backed out of a bet seemed to hold water, but two times in a row? Especially when Rod had found that money underneath Fred’s mattress. They were living under the honor code for goodness sake, so why would a cadet even consider hiding money when everyone implicitly trusted everyone else?

That forced Rod to think back to other seemingly random events, such as earlier in the year, when his coin drawer had been knocked over. He hadn’t counted the change that day, but would he have remembered how much he should have had anyway?

And there was something else, something at the end of summer training. Rod had been short twenty dollars that day they had gone into San Francisco, and he’d automatically thought he’d forgotten how much he’d spent the night before.

And four of the bills under George’s mattress had been Sly’s and George Sanders—the red markings and folds from origami were as damning as a confession.

Maybe he should just drop it. After all, no one had been hurt by what had happened. And no one else would probably find out. What did it matter, anyway?

Except for what Lieutenant Ranch had said, that day when Manuel Rojo had announced that Cadet X had resigned for an honor violation, about a cancer permeating the cadet wing if the toleration clause was ever violated.

He passed the CQ desk and someone grabbed him by the arm. It was Sly, serving CCQ for the day; he held the black telephone to his chest so the person on the other end couldn’t hear him. He was out of breath. “Hey, Rod, where’s Fred?”

“He said he was going to chapel. Why?”

Sly’s face was pale, his eyes wide. “It’s Mr. Ledbetter. He’s ranting that Fred was driving his daughter’s car last night, got in an accident. Janet’s okay, but he’s threatening to call the air police if Fred doesn’t pay for the damage. Do you know what’s going on?”

Despite wearing the heavy black parka, Rod felt chilled. That explained why Fred’s face was so bruised. He must have been in a car accident.

And it was suddenly very clear.

Rod’s chest felt like he had an incredible case of heartburn. “Tell him … Fred will call later.” Dazed, he walked back to his room and looked inside. Fred was gone, presumably to mandatory chapel.

His card was still marked AUTHORIZED.

Since Janet and Fred were relatively uninjured, simply being in an accident shouldn’t be a big deal. And if Fred went to school anywhere else but the Academy, it wouldn’t be; Fred’s father could afford to cover the damage to Janet Ledbetter’s car.

But it wasn’t the accident that mattered to Rod. It was much more than that.

For the past 18 months it had been pounded in their heads that you don’t screw over your classmate. You always went back to help him, you never left him hanging. Like that time Rod helped Fred when he had fainted on the parade field. There were no exceptions. None.

But there was also an overarching standard they had sworn to uphold: that they would not lie, cheat, nor steal, and as hard as it was, that they would refuse to tolerate any cadet that did, classmate or not.

He realized that when people uncovered a secret—a betrayal, a fallen expectation, or the discovery of infidelity—things could never be the same. And he knew it was that realization that caused the sour sensation in his stomach.

Discovery was only one facet of reality. Like the unbreakable Second Law of Thermodynamics, nothing could ever return to its original, more-ordered state.

They had trained hard the last eighteen months. They had grown close as a class.

They had to use their intellect in this gray and ever-shifting world of national priorities and treaty alliances. One of their military science instructors had told them that it was like taking a frothy, white-water trip in crisis management. It was never a simple “good guy, bad guy” world, such as his own father saw things, black or white.

But despite the world’s complexity, there were some things that were black or white. Simplistic, simple minded. Like being a little bit pregnant—you can’t. Either you’re pregnant or you’re not. There’s no in between.

And he realized so it was with honor.

Either you’re honorable or you’re not.

Either you’ve lied about where you’d been the night before or you haven’t.

Either you’ve stolen your classmate’s money or you haven’t.

And as for him and his fellow cadets, either you tolerated it or you didn’t.

Rod drew in a breath. He knew what happened. He knew.

He didn’t know all the details, but he just knew that Fred had broken the honor code. He’d lied and he’d stolen.

Rod’s stomach churned, feeling as if he’d swallowed a vial of acid. What was he going to do? What should he do? One thing he knew was that he should stand up for what was right and never back down.

On impulse Rod marked his card to UNAUTHORIZED. He slipped down the hall, wanting to get away from everything and just try to figure things out. He didn’t want any cadets bothering him. He had to think.

He walked quietly down the stairwell, and as he stepped out into the blustery, blowing snow, the wind and slippery ice were the last things on his mind.

***

Chapter Twenty

“All Shook Up”

February, 1957

United States Air Force Academy

Lowry Field, CO

My near’st and dearest enemy.

—William Shakespeare,
Henry IV
, Part I, Act III, Scene 2

“Hey, Fred, got a minute?”

“Yeah.” Fred closed his book. He rubbed his eyes and looked up from the homework he’d been doing for the past hour and a half. “Man, am I tired.”

Rod drew in a breath, trying to ignore the knot still in his stomach. He felt miserable and his mouth tasted sour. After returning from his walk around Lowry, he’d spent the past half hour in the latrine, on the floor in front of the porcelain toilet vomiting his guts out because of what he was about to do.

He felt chilled, but it wasn’t because of his long, snowy walk. He didn’t think anyone had missed him, and he’d changed his card back to AUTHORIZED when he returned. Now, he wished more than anything else in the world he didn’t have to confront Fred. It cut him to the core, but he knew it would be a thousand times worse if he kept it to himself. He just couldn’t believe that one of his classmates would break the code.

If Fred had really done it and Rod didn’t confront him, then Rod would be just as guilty as he. Rod would be tolerating his classmate breaking the code, and then he’d be living a lie, saying that he adhered to that standard when in fact he didn’t; it was the cancer Lieutenant Ranch had said would eventually tear down the honorable foundation the Academy was trying to build.

He remembered the sick feeling he’d had watching that blonde-headed woman pawing his father outside the hotel door in Washington, D.C. When he’d finally confronted his father about it a few months ago, it was too late to make a difference; he should have confronted him years ago, but because he hadn’t, Hank had just gotten angry, blamed Mr. Delante, and denied it.

Now he swallowed, trying to keep his hand from shaking. He’d given this enough time so that he knew he wouldn’t be acting on impulse. He wished there was some other way, but he kept coming up with the same answer. He had to do the right thing.

What if this was all some sort of misunderstanding? What if Fred had really injured himself in the library and hadn’t been in Janet’s car?

But he knew it wasn’t true—Mr. Ledbetter’s irate call had substantiated that.

And about the other matters: Fred lying about where he had been last night; stealing Sly’s and Gould’s money; lying about being in an AUTHORIZED place when he wasn’t. What if all this was simply a giant misunderstanding? What if Fred was really innocent?

But in the hours Rod had debated it within himself, he knew that wasn’t true.

The door to their room was open only a sliver, and aside from one or two cadets passing by, the hallway was dead quiet during academic call to quarters.

Fred pushed back his chair. “Where you been?” His eyes were rimmed with red, and the bruise on his face had turned a nasty blackish-blue color. “Your card was marked UNAUTHORIZED.”

Ignoring Fred’s question, Rod felt a sour taste claw up his throat. “This morning you said you’d been with Janet.”

He grinned. “She’s really something. Blew my socks off. Literally!” He grabbed his groin.

“You said her Chevy brought back memories.”

Fred looked suddenly alert. His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, we talked about her car.”

“So, when you had this great time with her, was it in the library or in her Chevy?”

“That’s none of your business.” Fred turned back to his desk and started flipping through his textbook.

“I think it is, Fred.”

Fred turned in his chair. “You think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What for, so you can go have your own little fantasy?”

Rod’s heart yammered. He slowed his breathing. “Fred—”

“Would you leave me alone? I’m trying to study.”

“Fred.” Rod pushed up from his chair. “Mr. Ledbetter, Janet’s father called for you this morning. He’s angry that you wrecked his daughter’s car—”

Fred stood. He turned to meet Rod, chest to chest. “Did you hear me? I said to forget it. Leave me alone and mind your own damn business.” His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily through his nose.

Rod didn’t back down against his larger classmate. “You weren’t at the library last night. You were with Janet in her car instead.”

“That’s crazy. There are plenty of places in the library where we could be without being caught.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Well, what the hell is the point? Huh? What is the point! You tell me.”

“I know you were in her car. You wrecked it. How else could you have gotten injured?”

“Janet probably smashed the car up last night after she left, and now the bitch is looking for a scapegoat. I told you I ran into a bookshelf.”

Rod strode over to Fred’s bed, reached under, and pulled out the white envelope of money. He held it high. “I found this sixty-five dollars under your mattress last night. That’s the same amount that Sly and Gould were shorted. You stole their money.”

Fred stepped forward. “You slimy bastard—”

Rod stared at Fred, keeping his eyes level and his voice quiet. “Your card said that you were authorized last night, and I know you weren’t. You lied. And you told Sly and Gould that some of our classmates reneged on a bet, but I don’t think anyone did.”

“You’re crazy. You’re absolutely nuts.”

“You’re lying, Fred. You’re lying, and you stole that money from Sly and Gould. You cheated them out of what was rightfully theirs. You’ve lied, cheated, and stole. What else have you done? Come on, Fred. What else have you done?”

Fred pushed Rod sharply. Rod fell backwards, off-balance, and crashed into his bed, sending it slamming against the wall.

Fred leaned over the bed. He stuck a finger close to Rod’s face. “Don’t you ever accuse me of lying, you French bastard. Keep your nose out of my life. Hear me?”

Rod lurched forward on the bed, causing Fred to reel back. Rod pulled himself up and said harshly, “So you’re saying you haven’t broken the honor code.”

“I’m saying that you should mind your own damn business if you know what’s good for you.” Fred turned and stomped to his desk. Slamming his book shut, he heaved the text into the wooden bookshelf then stormed out of the room.

Sly and Jeff Goldstein appeared at the door. Sly looked at Rod, his hair mussed from the fall, then over to Rod’s bed that was pushed against the wall.

Sly whistled low. “What was that all about?”

“You’ll find out.” Rod squeezed past his classmates. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sly said, following behind Rod. “I think you’d better leave Fred alone. He looked pretty upset.”

“I’m not looking for Fred,” Rod said. “I’m looking for the Honor Rep.”

O O O

Manuel Rojo sat on his bunk, his face showing no emotion as Rod related the story.

Feeling as though he had just purged his body of poison, Rod tried to keep the emotion out of his confessional. He stopped as soon as he related Fred denying the accusation.

Manuel was quiet as he wrote in a green government notebook. Rod glanced around the room as he waited for Manuel to put down his thoughts.

There were pictures of Manuel’s family, showing him with his eight brothers and sisters standing by a broken down Ford truck next to an old shack by a river. A crucifix was set up on the bookshelf, next to a diploma from the Menaul School, and a red chile ristra hung from the bulletin board. His roommate, George Sanders, was absent, tactfully asked by Manuel if they could use the room for an honor discussion.

Manuel looked up, his face grim. “Do you understand that Fred may be found not guilty? And what that will mean to your relationship, both to him and the squadron?”

“I don’t believe for one second that will happen. Fred lied about being in an authorized location. He’s even lying that he wasn’t in a car wreck. Plus, he cheated our classmates out of their money, stealing it for himself. What else could you want?”

Manuel tapped a pencil on his notebook. “It still may come down to your word versus his. We can’t bring in Janet or Mr. Ledbetter to testify.”

“We both can’t be telling the truth.”

“Then which one of you is lying?”

Rod balled his fists and shot to his feet. He leaned forward and said, “It’s not me.”

O O O

Rod straightened his uniform for the fifth time as he waited to be called to testify in front of the Honor Board. The Class-A jacket hung loosely on him. He had lost at least five pounds over the past few days, not being able to keep down his food in turning in his classmate. The wood-paneled waiting room was quiet; the cadets were prohibited from speaking by the cadet sergeant-at-arms.

The door swung open and his classmate, Bill Wilson, an All-American swimmer, stuck his head in the room. “Cadet Simone, report to the President of the Board.” Bill stepped back and escorted Rod to the Faculty Conference Room, which held the Honor Board jury.

Rod felt the tension in the air. He didn’t know Wilson that well, and in normal circumstances as classmates they would have shared a quiet bond. But faced with the seriousness of an honor violation, they put their class ties behind them.

Wilson whispered, “Good luck,” as he opened the door. He cleared his throat and announced, “Mr. President!”

Rod stepped behind a long, polished table. He popped up his hand in a salute, reporting in to the Board Chairman. “Sir, Cadet Third class Simone reporting as ordered.”

His classmate returned the salute. “Take a seat, Cadet Simone.” He didn’t administer an oath; Rod was already under the Honor Code.

Rod sat rigidly in his chair. Seven of his classmates sat around the table. Rod recognized all of them, even though they were from squadrons at the far end of the cadet area. Manuel Rojo sat in the rear, next to Lieutenant Ranch, the officer observer; Manuel had recused himself from the board since he was in Fred and Rod’s squadron.

Fred slouched in a chair at the opposite corner and scowled, waiting to hear Rod’s testimony. His eyes bore into Rod, as a marksman waiting for its quarry.

The Board Chairman cleared his throat. “Cadet Simone, you have brought a very serious charge. You have accused Cadet Third class Fred Delante of stealing and lying. Could you please relate to the board the details of this incident?”

Rod avoided looking at Fred and drew in a breath. “Yes, sir.” He spoke for the next fifty minutes, carefully reconstructing the events of that night. One by one the board members stopped him to clarify a point, or to have him expand on a detail. Every few minutes Fred would snort and roll his eyes, eliciting a stern glance from the Chairman.

At the end of the questioning, Rod felt exhausted. Deep circles of perspiration lined his Class-A blouse. His classmates looked grim at the revelation.

The Chairman turned to Fred. “Do you have any additional comments to clarify your original testimony?”

“He’s lying,” Fred said, keeping his eyes on Rod.

Looking weary, the Chairman said, “Cadet Simone, please remain in the waiting room while the Board deliberates its findings.” He twisted in his chair and turned to face Lieutenant Ranch and Fred. “Cadet Delante, the Sergeant-at-Arms will escort you to the Dean’s office where you will wait for our verdict. Sir, I’ll have to ask you to step out as well.”

“Certainly.” Lieutenant Ranch pushed back his chair. The cadets stood as the officer left.

Fred’s face burned bright red as he suddenly strode over to Rod. He turned to the Board President. “He’s lying! You didn’t let me tell my side of the story! I … I didn’t have legal representation. Call the DA’s office. Darius Moore. He’ll tell you I have a right to a lawyer!”

The Chairman looked coldly at Fred. “This is not a legal proceeding, Cadet Delante. And you’ve had ample time to tell your side of the story. Now please leave the room.”

Fred turned to Rod and sneered. “He’s jealous, that’s why he’s lying. Did he tell you that he skipped chapel the day he turned me in? And that he went Over-the-Fence? That’s why he made this up! He didn’t want to be caught. Ask him if he went OTF!”

Startled, the Chairman started to admonish Fred, but clamped his mouth shut and looked curiously at Rod.

Seeing an opening, Fred pushed his face close to Rod, so close that Rod could smell onions from the Denver omelet that had been served that morning in Mitchell Hall.

Rod felt his temper grow, but clasping his fists tightly, he controlled himself.

“Go on, ask him,” Fred said. “Ask him why he’s jealous of me, and why he made up those lies. I can explain everything—the money he said I stole, Janet Ledbetter’s car, seeing her in the library, everything. Just give me a chance.”

“You’ve had your chance,” the Chairman said. “Now please, exit the room.”

“I’m not lying,” Rod said in a low voice, straining to keep his temper in check.

“Ask him about the girls who keep dumping him, his girlfriend from home and that bitch from San Francisco. Ask him how he feels when I get all the chicks I want and how I have my way with them every weekend. Ask him how jealous he gets when he stacks up my girls against that fat broad from CWC he slobbers over—”

Rod felt a river of anger rush through him. “Leave Wendy out of this!”

Fred thumped Rod viciously in the chest with his finger. “He’s jealous! He can’t stand having it rubbed in his face. And he’s a liar, just like his crippled old man who’s been seeing some prostitute every time he goes back to Washington, D.C.—”

Rod lunged at Fred, a curtain of red pounding in his eyes. He swung at his roommate, catching Fred on the corner of his jaw with his right fist.

Staggering back, Fred wiped at his mouth. He roared as he leapt toward Rod, grabbing him and knocking them both across the polished wood table. Chairs clattered against the wall as the two slid across the smooth flat surface.

“Stop! Cut it out!” The Chairman yelled. He tried to pull the two apart.

Rod hammered with his fists, connecting with Fred’s shoulders as the larger cadet smashed Rod’s head against the wooden table. Fred squeezed him in a wrestling hold.

“Get off him, now!”