It appears the service will go ahead with contracting out at least of portion of the Air Refueling mission.  (Air Force eyes contractors for refueling, 25 July 2008 Air Force Times). I've discussed this before, and I think this move may have many unintended consequences.

Some say using civilian aerial tankers is only a temporary arrangement until the new military tanker comes online. Others say civilian tankers will only be used supporting training, not combat. Never underestimate the permanence of ‘temporary’ defense contracts or the likelihood of mission creep. Like any other government programs, it will likely expand in size and scope, whether it’s needed or not.

If aerial refueling, a core mission, is outsourced thenwhat Air Force mission can’t be outsourced?  If this combat role is civilianized it opens a Pandora’s Box. One day the Air Force may find it has evolved into a service of a few thousand uniformed ‘operators’ supported by legions of civilians. When that day comes some may logically question the validity of the Air Force remaining a separate military branch. The service must take a collective breath and think this through before taking such a leap into the unknown.

  (The following is a work of fiction. The characters are not based on any real person, living or dead. Only the lessons are real)

 

 

Happening now somewhere deep in the Kremlin basement…

An old man, dressed in a dated brown suit, slowly walks down a dimly lit hallway. His footsteps, steady and heavy, echo hollowly against bare cement. Rows of faded ribbons and medals hang from his chest, proudly topped with a Soviet flag lapel pin. He carries a newspaper folded neatly under his arm. Every few paces he emerges into ruddy yellow light cast from bare light bulbs. The harsh light hardens his granite face and reflects off a balding head. Each light dimly illuminates photos of forgotten military men, stern heroes of a receding age. He comes to a vault-like metal door covered in chipped green paint. Wrinkled hands search empty pockets for a long-unused key. He scowls and softly mutters obscenities.

I’ve come all this way and forgot the damn key!

 

Desperate, he tries the door knob. The heavy chamber door cracks open, sending a ray of soft orange light into the hallway.

“It’s open,” comes a deep, ancient voice.

Surprised and curious, the old man pushes the door open all the way. The room is large, the air is stale. The faint odor conjures strong memories and they rush over him with unexpected power. He steadies himself against the door and slowly takes in the room. Other than a thick layer of dust, the room is unchanged, frozen in time.

The walls are lined with maps from a lost world. Each is blanketed with labels proclaiming the locations and strength long mothballed air armies and defenses. Chairs and tables were right where he last remembered them, as if waiting for their analysts to return. Only the paper was gone, but its dry, stale smell remained. Ancient computers lined one wall. Without magnetic tape reels they looked like eyeless robots.

They might as well have been blind, they couldn’t help us see our own doom, he thinks.

In the center of the room sits another old man. He is dressed in a black suit, but only a Soviet lapel pin rest upon his narrow chest. A well-worn cane rests against an outstretched leg. A broad smile and twinkling eyes lift his sagging face.

 “Sergey! I…I…how long have you been here?” says the old man standing at the door, flabbergasted. 

The man in black gently motions to a half-full bottle of vodka and two glasses on the bare table in front of him.

“It feels like 20 years. Come and sit with me, Leonid, I’ve been waiting. I’m sorry, but I broke the seal of the vodka. I’ve always been a little impatient,” He motions to his leg and cane self-consciously, “Please forgive me for not getting up to greet you properly, but it took everything out of me just getting down here.”

Leonid comes forward and clasps his old friend’s hand, “This is a pleasant, if not suspicious, surprise.” He raises a bushy eyebrow at the empty chair and vodka, “How did you know I would be here? No…stop. Don’t tell me. I should know better than ask an old spy about his craft.”

Sergey laughs deeply, which quickly turns to a fit of coughing. It takes a few minutes for him to catch his breath, “It warms my heart to see you, but don’t make me laugh too hard or it might stop! Anyway, it wasn’t hard to deduce you would be here today. You air force types are predictable.”

Leonid settles into the folding wooden chair across the table across from Sergey and tosses his paper onto the bare table. It’s the New York Times, folded over to expose a small, deeply buried, article.

“The US tanker program is delayed again. The Secretary of Defense has stripped control of the program from the service. It may be another year before a winner is selected, if ever.”

Sergey smiles and pours both generous shots of Vodka, they raise their glasses. They smile broadly at each other and tap glasses in a dull clink.

“Success,” says Sergey.

“Success,” responds Leonid.

They down their vodka in one gulp and sit in silence. Sergey contemplates his empty glass while Leonid’s eyes roam around the room. Over 20 years ago intelligence analysts and staff officers busily filled its spaces, assessing NATO and America’s ability to penetrate Soviet air defenses. Specifically, they were tasked to identify and exploit weaknesses in the American Air Force. Leonid was the senior air officer and overall director, Sergey was his KGB counterpart. Together, they covertly plotted the destruction of the mighty American Air Force.

Leonid breaks the silence, “I have not returned here since they shut us down. I thought I still had my key, but I must have misplaced it.”

Sergey doesn’t look up, “I come every year on the anniversary of the program. It may sound pathetic, but it was my finest hour. It’s all been downhill since. I asked Vladimir for a job, but he doesn’t return my calls. Ungrateful punk! I taught him everything he knows.” 

“I am sorry old friend, you deserve better. If there is anything I can do…” Leonid shrugs.

Sergey waves his hand dismissively, “I have a pension and a few investments (and probably drink to much), but I’ll be fine.”

The mood lightens as Leonid recharges both their glasses, “A toast to Sasha!”

They raise their glasses and say together, “Sasha!”

“One day,” Sergey proclaims, “history will give him the credit he deserves. He was the greatest intelligence analyst ever: Soviet, American, British…it doesn’t matter. I only wish he had been an equally good operative.”

“Do not blame yourself, friend. You did your duty sending him into the field, he did his duty by going. Such is the price patriots must pay.”  

Together, they drift back to another world, reliving old times and secret deeds few witnessed and even fewer live to remember.

Sergey begins the journey, “I remember when I first met you. I thought you were a cocky bomber pilot.”

Leonid laughs, “No offense, but I thought KGB types were slime. And I thought Sasha was a…I think the American word is ‘geek.”

Sergey gently chuckles, “No offense taken, old friend. I know KGB types are slime. Ahh, geek, yes, an appropriate word. He was a geek, a wonderful, brilliant geek. Slime, cocky and geek…we three misfits made a good team, eh?”

“No, Sergey, we made history! Sasha’s brainchild is alive and well, slowly and steadily eroding the once great American Air Force. I don’t need classified intelligence reports to see its effectiveness. I only have to read the western news and defense magazines.” He waves his craggy hand dismissively, “I like paper. I have no use for the internet. Click, click click, it’s so impersonal. I read stories like this one about the tanker and shake my head in disbelief. They haven’t started a single successful major weapons program since our plan went into effect. It’s taken them over twenty years to field the F-22. The old B-52 is still their mainstay bomber! We did it, Sergey,” he taps the paper for effect, “and we’re still doing it.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe it myself Leonid. Did you know the American Air Force cannot even buy an updated version of an old helicopter without years of delays? Is this the same air force which put hundreds of F-15s into the skies less than a decade after they saw our Mig-25 thunder over Moscow? I remember the look on your face when you talked about the F-15,” Sergey laughs, “You were terrified.”

“And rightly so! That thing would have made mincemeat of my bombers. We had nothing to challenge it. The Bekka Valley proved me right! I was as equally concerned when you brought me the intelligence on the F-117 and B-2. I knew our entire air defense system was instantly worthless. The American Army and Navy could be dealt with; only their air force could lay our Motherland bare!” Leonid pounds his fist on the table for emphasis, almost spilling the vodka.

“Careful, old bear! I only brought one bottle. You haven’t changed, passionate as usual. Sasha calmed you down, though.”

“Not at first he didn’t! He’d only been on the project for one week when I almost took his head off! I asked him for an analysis of how quickly our design bureaus could field an interceptor and detection system to counter their stealth technology. He comes back that day and says very calmly, ‘Comrade Colonel, we cannot counter their stealth technology. We cannot counter it now, in ten years, or in 50 years.’ I was furious!”

Sergey laughs and wags his finger accusingly, “I seem to remember your response…you almost shot him!”

Leonid crosses his arms and looks defensive, “No, I didn’t. I just wanted to emphasize my point.”

“It didn’t faze him, did it Leonid? He just kept talking. I remember the way your face slackened and then your eyes lit up with understanding at the words he spoke…”

Their conversation gives life to a long dead room, taking them back to that day 23 years ago. Around the old men ghosts of long gone Soviet air defense and long range aviation officers emerge, pouring over charts and intelligence reports. They go unnoticed by the old men talking of yesteryear. The shades study maps of revived NATO forces defending Western Europe. A modernized US Navy encircles the beleaguered Soviet Bloc. American bombers equipped with new cruise missiles roam the globe unchallenged, protected by far-flung fighter bases. Blue pins dot Europe denoting Pershing II missiles which the Soviets can’t counter. The Fulda Gap is now reinforced with freshly built F-16s and A-10s, ready to destroy what was once considered unstoppable Soviet armor. The analysts fret over reports of American made Stinger missiles ravaging Soviet airpower in Afghanistan. Men in civilian clothes read computer printouts showing the American economy exploding while the Soviet economy collapses. In the corner a young lieutenant, a recently assigned errand boy, listens to a bootleg cassette tape of “Thriller” on a clunky Sony Walkman. Eyes closed, he is oblivious to the drama everyone else in the room is witnessing.

 

Leonid (younger, thinner, and with more hair) has his service pistol aimed at the head of a young man in rumpled civilian clothes. The young man looks a little like John Lennon. He pushes up his glasses and confidently addresses Leonid.

 

“You can shoot me if you like, Comrade Colonel, but it will not change the fact, even if we could keep up with the West’s technological advancements (and we can’t) we unequivocally cannot convert our technology to military power at anywhere near their breakneck pace. They have perfected what Eisenhower called the ‘military, industrial complex.’ We have a conversion problem, sir. If we counter stealth, they’ll produce a countermeasure faster than we recognize we’ve been outflanked. They can draw on the emerging global technology market. We can’t because we’re isolated. We fall further behind every day. However, it doesn’t mean we don’t have options. If you put your gun away, Colonel, I can explain those options.”

 

“You have 3 minutes,” Leonid warned, angry at this kid’s arrogance. He put his pistol back in its holster. Everyone in the room resumed breathing and went about their work.

 

“I only need one minute. We cannot match the Americans head-to-head. More importantly, we shouldn’t even try. If we do, we’ll play into their hands and they’ll spend us into our grave. I ask you, sir, to consider a radically different and much cheaper approach. You are a pilot, Comrade Colonel, so I’ll put it in words you can understand.

 

American fighter pilots talk about getting inside your opponents decision making cycle, they call it the OODA loop, which means ‘Observe, Orient, Decide, and Act’. The United States has a very tight research, development and acquisition cycle, fueled by vast quantities of free-market cash. Remember, they went from a speech about going to the moon to actually arriving there in less than 8 years. What if, however, we throw a wrench in their OODA loop?”

 

Leonid was intrigued. Unobserved in a dim corner a younger and darker Sergey listened. He brought Sasha into the project after reading his dossier.  He’d let this conversation play out, confident of its outcome.

 

Sasha moved over to the table in the center of the room. He rolled out several pieces of paper and leaned over them, drawing Leonid’s attention to key documents.

 

“The Americans are reorganizing their military in something called ‘The Goldwater-Nichols Act.” Operationally, it’s brilliant. Logistically, it’s severely flawed. American newspapers and television make a great deal over Pentagon waste. They love to talk about $500 dollar toilet seats and $100 hammers. Of course their military acquisitions system is inefficient, what government process isn’t? They hope this reorganization will solve this. I contend it will have the opposite effect. It has the potential to bring the American acquisition system to its knees…with just a little help from us, of course.”

 

Leonid wanted to hear more, but hid his growing enthusiasm. There was something about where this young man was going which made sense.

 

“Go on.”

 

“Right now, each of their military branches can define their own requirements and, if congress approves, go out and buy their own equipment. Yes, it’s somewhat inefficient as of creates unnecessary duplication and hinders joint operations. Hereafter, weapon systems, like fighters and bombers, will have to meet rigid joint requirements and approvals. They’ve just added additional layers of bureaucracy, time, paperwork, and the most critical element of all …expense! It greatly expands their OODA loop and slows their ability to adapt.” Sasha leaned forward, smiled, and quietly whispered to Leonid, “Sir, it makes them more like us!”

 

Sergey emerged from the shadows, hands in the pockets of his black leather coat “Leonid, there’s more. He’s only scratched the surface.”

 

“You knew about this?” Leonid said, dismayed.

 

“Of course,” Sergey said irately, “Would you expect anything less?!”

 

Sasha continued, speaking quickly and passionately, “If we act quickly we can place operatives in sensitive posts in the Pentagon and Capitol Hill. They will plant a few more…uh…‘details’ into the legislation. This bill is poison, we only need to make it a more effective poison. I think we can stretch their major weapon system acquisition time out to 10, maybe 15 years from its current 5 to 8. If the Americans are slowed down it gives us time to catch up.”

 

Sasha shuffled the papers and came up with some charts, “ I call this plan Operation CHOLESTEROL. It aggravates the inherent flaws in Goldwater-Nichols by clogging the healthy pace of American military acquisitions with bureaucratic fat. We will make their military heart beat harder and harder for the same amount of work.”

 

Sergey chimed in again, “This will aggravate a looming situation of the American’s own doing, one which we believe they will ignore until it’s too late. Sasha, tell him the part you told me last night, about the money.”

 

Leonid looked back and forth, obviously unhappy he wasn’t in on any of this.

 

“And what situation will that be?” Leonid queried.

 

Sasha threw some more charts across the table, “Look at the US population projection between now and 2010. As you can see, the post war ‘Baby Boom’ generation, now in their late and early 40s, will start retiring about then.”

 

“So? What does this mean to me? That’s twenty five years from now. Why should I care?” Leonid wasn’t following.

 

“Think about it. They have massive debt obligations and Reagan has so far been unsuccessful in controlling entitlement spending. He’s borrowing money for his military buildup and I assess the American congress will remain unwilling to cut entitlement spending for the foreseeable future.  This will be their true undoing. Look at this chart, in about 20 years almost one third of their population will dependent on government pensions and medical care. That’s almost 80 million people, Comrade Colonel,” Sasha gave a nervous little laugh, “They are good capitalists, but poor socialists! Sir, in only a few years they won’t be able to afford military modernization. Bombers will be their last concern as this will lead to a complete paralysis of their government and economy. ” 

 

Leonid looked solemnly at the printouts on the table and thought about the Soviet Union’s current dire straights, “I fear we are poor socialists, too, my little friend. Please, go on.”

 

 Sasha continued, “The implications are staggering! If we can slow down their technological-to-military conversion cycle, even a little, they soon won’t be able to buy new weapon systems. We help choke off their own heart, they dry up the life blood of cash themselves. This will buy time for the Soviet Union to solve its own problems and allow us to resume the global revolution.”

 

For the next few hours the pilot, the spy and the geek hashed out the details and set Operation CHOLESTEROL into motion.

 

“So its agreed,” Leonid proclaimed, “It is in my authority to initiate low scale operations, and this project fits neatly into my mandate. Sasha, as the grand architect I want project details on my desk in the morning. Sergey, you will be responsible for all field operations, of course.

 

“Of course,” Sergey responded. He and Sasha exchanged knowing glances.

 

“Comrades, this is classified at the highest level. Details will not leave this room. Nor do I need to tell you how dire our situation is. Soviet Man must take the long view, and this plan does that. This will be our advantage over the capitalists. I just hope we have the time to see it bear fruit. Good luck gentlemen.”

 

With that Leonid turned to leave. Sergey and Sasha returned their attention the papers on the table and began planning Operation CHOLESTEROL in earnest. Colonel Leonid walked by the lieutenant sitting in the corner listening to the Walkman. The young man was softly singing along in English with Michael Jackson’s “Billy Jean,” which was clearly and loudly leaking around the foam earphones. He was oblivious to the imposing presence of a Colonel of SovietLongRange Aviation looming above him. Irritated, Leonid snatched the contraption from his ears. Surprised and terrified, the lieutenant snapped to attention.

 

“Is this yours?” Leonid asked calmly, examining the cassette player.

 

“Yes, Comrade Colonel!” the shaking young officer shouted.

 

“Do you like western music? What is it called…the ‘disco boogie’? Do you like to disco boogie?”

 

“Uhh…yes…kind of, Comrade Colonel,” He said nervously, afraid he would answer incorrectly.

 

Leonid gazed down at the Walkman dangling in his hand. Somewhere deep inside he feared the little contraption. It was an alien, an unwelcome invader - light, compact and flashy.  It intruded upon his gloomy, gray metal sanctuary. The Russian instinctively knew the mix of Japanese technology and American culture was the future. He briefly considered stomping it under his heel.

“This boogie music, it’s not all its cracked up to be, eh?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“What is your purpose here?”

 

“I’m an air defense pilot recently reassigned to your staff, sir!”

 

“A fighter pilot,” Leonid grunted, “That figures, I should shoot you instead. Keep this damn thing out of my vault. Carry on,” he handed it back, shook his head and left.

 

The ghosts fade and the years pass. Once again, two old men sit and drink vodka at the same table where Operation CHOLESTEROL was hatched years ago.

 

Sergey nods, “I read where the outgoing American air force secretary pondered if the acquisitions process was ‘too complicated’. What an understatement!”

Leonid nods, “A very similar statement was made by their outgoing air force chief of staff months ago. When asked about the floundering rescue helicopter program he indicated the selection was ‘out of his hands’, the purview of some committee. Imagine, the most powerful man in the American Air Force unable to influence the selection of a critical weapon system. These are not the same Americans who defeated us.”

“The old world passed away and yet Operation CHOLESTEROL still wreaks havoc upon our old adversary. I did the math the other day, over 80% of all their current manned systems were bought prior to CHOLESTEROL. We did pretty good, eh?” Sergey’s sagging face carries a wry, knowing grin.

Leonid downs another shot of Vodka. The bottle is almost gone, “Bah! We were too late, Sergey. Perestroika, Glasnost, the fall of Berlin. We were the doomed ones, not the Americans. It was all for nothing. Any damage Operation CHOLESTEROL continues to inflict is meaningless spite. And Sasha, what was his sacrifice for? I sent him to America to jumpstart the operation only to have the CIA kill him. For what?”

Sergey is still grinning over the table at Leonid. Leonid lifts a bushy eyebrow suspiciously.

“What aren’t you telling me, you slimy old fox?”

Sergey reaches into his coat and produces an envelope. He tosses it on the table in front of Leonid, who slowly picks it up never taking his eyes off the spy. It is simply addressed “Director, Operation CHOLESTEROL.” He opened it. It contains a photo and three neatly folded papers. He examines each one at a time. The first piece of paper has only a series of numbers printed on it. He looks up at Sergey, but says nothing. He opens the next folded paper. It’s a hand written letter. He reads in growing disbelief…

Comrade Colonel,

            If you’re reading this then, once again, Sergey was correct. You returned to the vault on an anniversary of the day you pulled the gun on me (for which I’m still waiting for an apology). I will apologize first, however, for deceiving you. As you must now realize I was never assassinated by the CIA. I’ve been living anonymously in America for the last 19 years. This was necessary, as it was necessary to deceive you. The KGB had moles within our cell. Your ignorance was your shield.

            Operation CHOLESTEROL was a sham. My analysis was correct, but the Americans didn’t need our help pushing them into the abyss. They did it quite well on their own. I knew this back then, though I didn’t really believe they would let this go on for so long. No, our national suicide was a more immediate problem, and voicing such concerns back then could get one shot. Sergey and I knew the Soviet Union was rapidly collapsing.  Operation CHOLESTEROL was the means to assure our security in a post-Soviet world.  

Sergey talked you into allowing me to go to the US to help him set up the operation. Once I was in country he arranged my ‘assassination’. In reality, I siphoned the KGB seed money and went underground. Sergey provided me with a false identity and I began my new life as a very successful business man and investor. Sergey maintained my cover until the Soviet Union collapsed. Our plan was to come out of hiding once democracy took root and bring you in. Unfortunately, the ghosts of the KGB exist to this day. Their reach is far and lethal, friend. Far and lethal. Sergey stayed back, providing cover while I safely made our fortune in America.

In the envelope you’ll find a number for a Swiss bank account. Comrade Colonel, you are now filthy rich. I’ve done well with the paltry sum you gave us to sabotage the Americans all those years ago. Sergey has his cut, too. If you’re curious, you’ll find the latest product of one of my capitalist investments in the envelope.  Funny thing, I got the idea on the same day we pitched Operation CHOLESTEROL.

Now that you know the secret we’ve kept from you all these years, your shield of ignorance is gone. It would be best if you leave Russia before your new found wealth becomes public knowledge. Sergey has information which you might find helpful.

You were right when you said we were poor socialists. It was obvious where we were heading back then, but politics blinded us. It is obvious where the Americans are heading, too. I hope they wake up and realize they make poor socialists. We’re invested in their future now.

For both of our sakes, we will never meet again. I wish you good fortune, Comrade Colonel.

 

Sasha

 

Leonid puts down the letter and pulls out the photo. It shows Sasha, almost unchanged except for a slight tinge of gray in his long hair. He is shirtless and tanned, bathed in dazzling midday sunlight. He sits cross legged on the deck of an expensive boat. Smiling with pearly white teeth, he’s holding up a bottle of beer, surrounded by beautiful young women in bikini bottoms and wet t-shirts sporting the words “Girls Gone Wild 2005”. Behind him was an emerald sea dotted with white sailboats.

“Geek,” Disgusted, Leonid sighs and tosses the photo to the table.

Pale, he looks up at Sergey, now standing. Leaning against his cane the old spy hands him a sealed plain manila document folder.  

 

“Inside you will find a new identity, passport, and airline tickets. What you do with them is your choice as they cannot be traced back to me or Sasha. This is where we say goodbye, old friend.” Sergey looks around and grimaces at the room, “This place is a tomb. Do not linger here long, it’s not healthy.”

With that Sergey limps to the door.

“Where will you go? What will you do?” Leonid calls after him.

The old Cold Warrior turns and smiles, “I don’t know. Maybe I will move to Montana and raise rabbits. Goodbye, Leonid.” Sergey turns and walks through the open door down the long hallway.

Leonid is in shock, reeling at new world thrust upon him. He reaches into the envelope and removes the last folded paper. A small, silver device, no bigger than a credit card, slides out and clatters onto the table. Connected to the device is a thin white wire terminating in tiny earphones. He has heard of these, though he didn’t know how they worked.

“YOU OWN PART OF THIS COMPANY. PRESS THE BUTTON WITH THE SINGLE ARROW AT THE BOTTOM AND PUT THE EAR BUDS IN YOUR EARS” is written on the paper it was wrapped in. Leonid fumbles with the ear buds and finds the play button. An I-POD logo flashes on the tiny screen followed by a crisp, clear image of a young Michael Jackson walking down a sidewalk which lights up wherever he steps. The familiar refrain of “Billy Jean” begins. The video from another era plays in crisp, digital quality. Leonid pulls off the ear buds and looks up at Sergey’s retreating figure as it vanishes and reappears as under each bare light bulb, shadows following his footsteps. He finally disappears forever into the darkness beyond.

(The picture brightens showing a stop watch with the familiar ‘tick tick tick’ sound.)

ANNOUCER: Tonight on 50 Minutes. Unbeknownst to an unsuspecting country, half a century ago he and American’s most powerful public figures left earth on an alien spacecraft. Tonight, on a 50 Minutes exclusive, Air Force General Curtis LeMay speaks for the first time after returning to earth.

(Katie sits in a high director’s chair, facing an expressionless LeMay in full uniform, four silver stars gleam on his shoulder. He looks like he did in the early 1960s, also sitting in a director’s chair with a lit stogie clenched in his teeth.)

COURIC: General LeMay, America was astonished when you and half a dozen great Americans emerged from (cough) from the (cough)…General? Could you please extinguish that cigar? It’s against New York City law and CBS policy to smoke in a place of business.

(LeMay stares at her expressionless, saying nothing. He rolls the fat cigar around to the other side of his mouth. )

COURIC: Uh…okay. I think we can make an exception since you’ve been gone a long time.

LEMAY: A week.

COURIC: Excuse me?

LEMAY: I’ve been gone a week. Travel at near the speed of light has some interesting side effects. Einstein was right. Smart guy. He gave me this Cuban cigar, a damn fine one at that. He gave the aliens a box of Cubans, too.

COURIC: The aliens smoke?

LEMAY: Not all the time, only when they’re drinking.

COURIC: Why did the aliens take you and the others?

LEMAY: We were a diplomatic and trade delegation. 

COURIC: So what was your role? You were, are…a…a military officer. What would an advanced race of space faring aliens want with you?

LEMAY: (pauses and looks at her expressionlessly) Well, missy, they’re like anyone else. They have enemies, very bad enemies. They were amazed how fast we adopted aerospace power for defense. They thought some of our tactics were fairly advanced. I was a military liaison helping them apply airpower doctrine to their space/time faring technology. Funny thing, they didn’t take any reporters.

COURIC: (blinks and continues) Can you tell us about their technology, other than what we already know?

LEMAY: No, other than the fact we were supposed to bring a lot of it home before the deal fell through. We were supposed to stay for two weeks.

COURIC: Why did the deal fall through? Does this have anything to do with how fast the spacecraft departed after it landed and deposited you and the others on the Mall in Washington DC?

LEMAY: About four days after we left my host officer came and got us during a poker game we were having with some of the aliens. He said something bad was happening back on earth and they were turning the ship around. He showed us television broadcasts from earth and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought we could still salvage the mission, but once our hosts showed us a broadcast of “Different Strokes” I knew it was over. They called off the deal and said, “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.” They dropped us off and wished us good luck trying to straighten this mess out.

(Couric is silent, jaw agape.)

LEMAY: Great bunch of guys. Short, smart, and can handle their booze. They make great pilots. They only kept two of the documents we brought them, though. I’ll think they’ll come back once they run out of scotch and Cubans.  

COURIC: What were the documents they kept?

LEMAY: The Bible and the Constitution.

(Couric is stunned, a look of shocked disbelief on her face.)

LEMAY: You look a little pale, there, young lady. Are you okay?

COURIC: Uhmm, yes, uh….are these the same aliens which crashed in Roswell and have been abducting humans for years?

LEMAY: Yea, they had a forced landing at Roswell. Engine trouble, but any landing you can walk away from is a good one...they laughed when I told them that one! They were our guest for a few years and helped us set up the trade delegation. ‘Abduction’ is a strong term, they just wanted to meet the common folk. We told them what good people we had in our heartland and they wanted to find out for themselves.

COURIC: Abductees have told stories of horrible experiments, even anal probes! How is this ‘meeting the common folk’?!

LEMAY: Calm down, missy. The aliens are aviators. Each spacecraft has its own flight surgeon. They’ve got silly regulations just like we do. Everyone who boards and flies on one of their craft must undergo an annual flight physical. Those physicals entail a prostate examine and those buggers have fingers as big as their eyes! The bad part is the annual examine is based on earth time, not spacecraft time. That came out to seven prostrate exams a day for us. Ever few hours they’d walk in and say, ‘General LeMay, time for your annual flight physical.’ Damn if I could talk them out of it. ‘Regulations are regulations, General LeMay, you of all people should understand that,’ they’d say. (He squirms in his seat and looks uncomfortable) You’re fortunate I was able to sit down for this interview.

COURIC: Thank you for that information, general, but it was more than I needed to know. You ran for the vice presidency with George Wallace in 1968 and died in 1990. How can this be if you were with aliens that whole time?

LEMAY: That was a robot the aliens left to take my place. Unfortunately, it had a bad reaction to boiled peanuts and turned evil. I take no responsibility for any of its actions.

COURIC: How do we know you’re not an evil robot?

LEMAY: You don’t. Next question.

(Couric’s eyes are wide, silence.)

LEMAY: Missy, I’m a busy man. Are you going to sit there and stare at me all day or are you going to ask me questions?

COURIC: You’ve been reinstated as the new Chief of Staff for the Air Force, the same post you held in 1961. Why did they ask you to come back?

LEMAY: Because my Air Force is broken and I’m going to fix it.

COURIC: How is it broken?

LEMAY: What’s broken!?  Did anyone notice you are flying a lot of the same damn aircraft we were flying back in 1961?

COURIC: Is that a problem?

LEMAY: Missy, would you feel comfortable flying coast to coast in a 1950’s era 707?

COURIC: I don’t know, but aren’t you comparing apples and oranges?

LEMAY: Any old apple will get you from New York to L.A. Any old orange won’t deliver airpower from continent to continent (takes out his cigar and shakes it for effect). We left you kids a world class air force and the world’s best aerospace industry. Back then we had several dozen companies making a slew of advanced fighters and bombers. Now we’re down to basically Boeing and Lockheed. Europe is kicking our as* and selling us our helicopters, tankers and airliners. What the HELL have you all been doing for the last half century? We were about to land of the moon and now I learn we haven’t been back since 1972 and the damn Communist Chinese might beat us back. You know, Boeing gave us the KC-135 and B-52, combat ready, about 5 years after we signed the contracts. Christ Almighty, you…you...you peoplecan’t even choose a tanker in under a decade. Well, let me tell you, as my first decision I’m going to pick one tomorrow.

COURIC: Do you have that authority?

LEMAY: Yes. Next question.

COURIC: Will you tell me what your decision will be?

LEMAY: No. Next question.

COURIC: (looking flustered) What other problems are you going to tackle?

LEMAY: I’m going to scrap this “Expeditionary Air Force” crap.

COURIC: Can you elaborate on that statement?

LEMAY: Sure, missy. Living in tents and flying tactical aircraft across borders and back was against everything we were trying to build back in the 1950s and 60s. We envisioned a strategic air force which launched from CONUS, could fly to any point of the globe, strike at will, and return. An overseas foot print on the ground is a liability. We didn’t have the technology to fully realize that vision back then. Today, you have that technology, but instead you’re playing in the sand with the Army.

COURIC: I’m not schooled in military matters. But my sources tell me our ground forces want the Air Force to concentrate more on ground support roles.

LEMAY: The Army wants the finger and eye of God Himself, nothing less. They want us to magically smite their enemies from the heavens at the click of a radio. I can give them that, but they don’t tell me how to do it. I’ve got a bigger picture and they are only one part of it. That’s not what you call ‘politically correct’ these days. Speaking of politically correct, folks today don’t admit when they screw up. I screwed up when I played a part in our biggest mistake back in 1947. Then, we let the other services keep their aircraft. Dumb. If it involves powered flight, it should belong to the Air Force. Period.  

COURIC: Isn’t that a politically risky stance?

LEMAY: Yes, but they worst they can do is fire me. Hell, I got four stars on my shoulder. I think I can stand a few bumps and bruises.

COURIC: You’re very outspoken, General LeMay, but some say you’re a bit of a anachronism, a dinosaur, a relic of a bygone era.

LEMAY: Who said that?

COURIC: I can’t divulge my sources.

LEMAY: I see reporters are still spineless weasels. What you’re saying is you think I’m a dinosaur. Dinosaurs were giants who strode the world like they owned it for millions of years. They apologized for nothing and ate those who pissed them off. It took God himself to wipe them out. I guess I’m a dinosaur, missy, so don’t pi** me off.

COURIC: Please, don’t call me ‘missy’.

LEMAY: Sure, sweetie (He blows a puff of smoke, his face expressionless but his eyes are twinkling.)

(Couric’s eyes narrow as she tries to keep her cool. In slow, measured tones she continues.)

COURIC: What is your opinion of women in combat?

LEMAY: Dumb.

(Couric smiles, and eagerly continues in a ‘gotch’ya’ manner.)

COURIC: Isn’t that a slap at all the brave women serving in combat today?

LEMAY: No, it’s just a statement of fact. You people have been living off the security my generation bought for you. You’ve been insulated in a nearly consequence-free existence. You think, therefore, you can place women in combat and not reap the consequences. No women have had their heads chopped of on Al Jazzera, no women have been dragged through streets of Baghdad. Yes, some women have died bravely in the line of duty but it hasn’t been en masse. When that happens, and it will, the second worst thing which could happen is America seeing the folly of its ‘women in combat’ policy.

COURIC: What’s the worst thing which could happen?

LEMAY: America doesn’t see the folly of this policy. You people are so confused you don’t even know the natural differences between the sexes.

(Couric is obviously perturbed.)

 COURIC: Can we assume, then, you will pull women from combat roles in the air force?

 LEMAY: Absolutely not. 

(Couric looks down and shuffles her papers, not quiet sure how to take what she just heard.)  

COURIC: I see. There has been much progress in civil rights since you left. African-Americans now serve in every capacity alongside whites not only in the Air Force, but in society as a whole. What are your thoughts on this?

LEMAY: Good, it’s about time.

COURIC: Didn’t you support racist policies, like those of George Wallace?

LEMAY: No. Evil robot on boiled peanuts. Remember? 

(Couric shakes her head and looks off camera at her producer as if you say “You’ve got to be kidding me.”) 

COURIC: Uh…um...okay (shuffles her notes again and tries to regain her composure) What are some other changes you’ll be making as the new Air Force chief of staff?

LEMAY: I’m reinstating Strategic Air Command and ordering our missiles and bombers back on alert.  

COURIC: Isn’t that an unnecessarily provocative move?! We’ve been at peace with Russia for years. 

LEMAY: Who said anything about Russia? I’m placing bombers on airborne alert at fail safe points just outside Iranian airspace. If they want to play in the big leagues, so be it.

COURIC: Who granted you that authority? 

LEMAY: The president, that’s who. The Supreme Court agreed he didn’t serve out his term, so bingo, he’s back in. 

COURIC: Yes…I see. Since John F. Kennedy was reinstated as president we’ve seen many…uh…unexpected changes. How do you think Iran will react to this move?

LEMAY: I don’t care how they react. You people should have obliterated them back in 1979 when they occupied our embassy, a flagrant act of war. That was the second biggest mistake you people made since we left.

COURIC: (sighs) I’m afraid to ask, but I have too. What was our biggest mistake, general?

LEMAY: It was either exporting your industrial base to China or importing “Survivor” from England. I haven’t made up my mind which is worse. I think the Brits are great, but never import their food, dental work, or television.

COURIC: Sir, is there anything America or the air force has done since you left of which you approve? Have we done anything right in the last half century?

LEMAY: I like what you’ve done with unmanned aircraft. The Global Hawk is a fantastic weapon system. Stealth, precision engagement…great capabilities, too. On the civilian side, you’ve done great things with medicine. Don’t, however, expect me to sit here and pat you kids on head. You’ve screwed up and royally. We were practically energy independent when I left. Now you buy your oil from the very people who want us dead and refuse to look for oil yourselves. Damn fools, the lot of you.  

COURIC: (Looks sternly at him) Many Americans would disagree with you. Aren’t you overstepping the political boundaries of a military officer?

 LEMAY: (Takes his cigar out, leans forward and speaks in slow measured tones) Of course many Americans disagree with me, but thanks to you people wrecking our education system many of those same idiots can’t find their state on a map. I won’t suffer fools and I refuse keep my mouth shut. I’m going to help the president put a stake through the heart of this “political correctness” crap, which is just another name for good old fashioned communism. And you idiots bought it. (Leans back and puts the cigar back in his mouth) And yes, I am overstepping the bounds of what a military officer should say politically. Therefore, I’ll leave those issues to the president.

COURIC: (Snaps a wicked glare off the set at her producer and angrily reshuffles her papers) I see. What exactly is your relationship with the new President?

LEMAY: (Waives affably and smiles around his cigar) Great man, we really got to know each other on the trip. We’ve had our differences in the past, but when we saw how screwed up America has become we settled those and agreed on how to fix them. I think him and the first lady are great people.

COURIC: (Obviously glad to change subjects, her mood lightens) Many were shocked to see Marilyn Monroe emerge from the alien spacecraft at JFK’s side. We all assumed she died back in 1962. We were even more surprised when the President announced they were getting married.

LEMAY: No, Marilyn really did die back then. The first lady is an alien robot. The aliens are a creative bunch, God bless ‘em.

COURIC: (Pauses, jaw open) The First Lady of the United States is an alien robot?

LEMAY: An evil alien robot, to boot! Heh heh! (The general rolls his cigar in his fingers and looks off into the distance as if he’s somewhere else and mumbles….) She’s an evil, naughty alien robot…very naughty…

COURIC: (Looks disgusted) General? General LeeeMaaayyy!

LEMAY: (The general snaps back to the present, smiles, and puts the cigar back in his mouth) Unfortunately, the delegation members outlived most of our friends and relations back here on earth, including our spouses. It’s not good for a man to be alone and the aliens knew this. They asked the president, our leader, who he wanted the companion-bot modeled on. He came up with Ms. Monroe. Einstein thought it was a hoot, he couldn't stop laughing for a day!

COURIC: That’s disgusting!

LEMAY: (Looks Katie up and down) You know, toots, I’m back in circulation. How about you and me grab some chow and I’ll tell you what it was like to firebomb Tokyo.

(Katie stares in disbelief. Image fades and is replaced with stopwatch ‘tick tick tick’ sound.)

ANNOUCER: Next on 50 Minutes, Morely Safer interviews President John F. Kennedy and the new first lady.

SAFER: (Thoughtfully strokes his chin) Mrs. Kennedy, is it true you are an evil alien robot?

MONROE (MRS. KENNEDY): (Pouting and looking very hot) “I’m not bad, I’m just built that way.”

SAFER: Mr. President, doesn’t it disturb you your wife, the First Lady of our nation, is an alien robot?

KENNEDY: (Looking as young and vibrant as he did during Nixon/Kennedy debates, he has an enormous grin on his face. He holds a small paper bag out to Marilyn.) Why don’t you have another boiled peanut, darling? 

The first step in a medical emergency is to stop the bleeding.

The Government Accounting Office upheld Boeing’s tanker contract protest. In the latest Air Force Times article “Tanker Travesty” the GAO cites at least seven major areas where the Air Force didn’t follow its own process. The article says the tanker decision could be delayed another 1 to 3 years and it may take a decade to fix the acquisitions system.

The Air Force is bleeding. It’s bleeding like the Black Knight in Monty Python’s Holy Grail. Even worse, the service is the one holding the sword, cutting off its own limbs and mumbling, “It’s only a flesh wound.”

The service doesn’t have a decade to fix the system nor can it afford another multiyear tanker delay. The budget window is starting to close. The bleeding must stop now, but how?

Come with me to the Land of Make Believe. In this bizarre, alternate universe someone in a blue uniform with lots of stars on their shoulders is about to hold a press conference, let’s listen in:    

“Good morning. Recently, the Government Accounting Office upheld Boeing’s protest of the Air Force’s awarding of the new aerial tanker contract to Northrop-EADS. We’ve carefully reviewed the GAO ruling and concur with each and everyone one of their findings. We screwed up. As the man in charge, I take full responsibility.  

I’ve ordered a complete overhaul of our acquisitions process to ensure this never happens again. I’ve also ordered this review be conducted by outside experts. With this being said, I must keep in mind why the service started the process to find a new tanker over a decade ago.  

The KC-135 is a reliable and remarkable warhorse, but it’s approaching half a century of service. I cannot, in good conscious, ask these brave men and women to conduct combat operations for another twenty years in a certifiable antique. The needs of the mission and those who fly combat day-in and day-out must take precedence over procedural considerations. Therefore, I’ve ordered the Air Force to immediately proceed with the contract as awarded. I do not make this decision lightly and do so based on extraordinary circumstances: We are an Air Force at war and the KC-135 is become too old to conduct sustained combat operations for another two decades.  

Both Northrop-EADS and Boeing presented outstanding bids. Either platform would make a worthy successor to the venerable KC-135. However, the service can ill-afford yet another lengthy delay delivering new, desperately needed, combat iron to our aircrews. I understand this not ideal. I know there will be calls for the competition to be re-bid in the interest of ‘fairness.’ However, I ask our elected political leaders, the two corporations involved, and the American taxpayer to consider what is fair for the men and women performing this difficult mission as well as the countless warfighters depending on the capability they provide. There is a higher cause I must honor, and therefore, why I had to make this difficult choice.  

In return, I promise to fix this broken system and to do so within one year. We must restore America’s faith in the Air Force’s ability to field new major weapon systems in a timely, fair and cost effective manner.  

It’s time to press on with the mission. Thank you, I’ll take a few questions.”

In the Land of Make Believe, Airmen from Alaska to Afghanistan stand up and cheer.  

Of course, this scene is completely fictional and not intended to resemble any person, living or dead (at least in this dimension.) However, could anything like this ever happen in our universe? Like comedian Steve Martin used to say on the original Saturday Night Live…Naw! It’s too politically risky. Congress will howl. Boeing will howl. The media will howl. Such action would bring too much heat to bear on an already wounded service.

The only people who won’t howl are the Airmen doing the mission, they'll rightfully salute and press on.

Sadly, the service will attempt to fix its acquisition system by throwing more money at it. They’ll hire more people to write new processes to fix the old processes. Regulations and instructions will multiply and grow more complicated. Smart corporate lawyers will find new loopholes and oversights and lay more protests at the GAO’s feet. The GAO will thoroughly review each and the cycle will begin anew.

And the bleeding will continue.

Boeing has won its protest and the new aerial tanker faces years of delays. KC-135 crews and maintainers will fly and fix antiques for the foreseeable future.

Shameful.

The U.S. Air Force is in dire straits, an organization in crisis by any measure. The warning signs are shocking:

- In 2002 it mismanaged the KC-X competition resulting in a senior acquisitions official going to jail.

- The CSARX rescue helicopter competition, delayed for over two years, is still mired in political and legal battles.

- The service cut almost 15% of its total manpower in order to modernize equipment, only to end up with a smaller force and little modernization. 

- Another high ranking acquisitions official committed suicide over another brewing scandal.

- The Air Force unknowingly loaded nuclear weapons on a bomber and flew it across the country.

- It lost track of other nuclear components, mistakenly sending them to Taiwan.  

- The service can only buy half the F-22s it needs to fulfill its stated requirements.

- Recently, the chief of staff and secretary of the Air Forces were sacked, the first time in history the two top positions in a military service were simultaneously fired.

- It lost track of another 1000 nuclear weapons components.

- Now, it botched up the new aerial tanker contract again.

From 1990 to 2012 the service squandered its only opportunity to modernize. It’s facing the same looming budget disaster as the rest of the nation. Starting in 2012 Social Security and Medicare will start sucking the federal budget dry, closing the door on major force modernization. Between entitlements and endless wars the service will find it nearly impossible to build the 21^st century force it so desperately needs. They are in hole they may not be able to climb out of.

Was it strictly the services fault? No, but most of the blame falls squarely in their lap. How did it come to this?

Lack of Strategic Thinking. The service rewards tactical thinking, focusing only one or two budget cycles in the future.

Lack of Common Identity. There is no common cultural lynchpin which binds all Airmen the way the other services are unified. The Air Force has a fractured culture for two reasons: it’s a service of ‘program managers,’ stove-piped into specific career fields and weapons systems; and because most ‘Airmen’ have nothing to do with aviation.

The service lost control to a self-serving bureaucracy. The Air Force’s requirements and acquisitions system serves congress and their lobbyist. It serves the contractors. It serves the armies of civil servants in Washington and the Pentagon. The system serves everyone except the warfighters in the field and therefore, in the long run truly serves the interest of our adversaries. Our ‘peer rivals’ only need to wait us out as the bureaucracy does nothing and our fleet rots. 

The Air Force has become a service of stewards, not innovators. With few exceptions, the service no longer blazes new aviation trails. The few new programs in existence were started many years ago and many of those are in trouble. It’s not just a question of funding, but of cultural willingness to take risks.

Lack of combat aviation leadership. Deployments and combat are not the same, this distinction is blurred in the service. Fewer and fewer people running the show and pulling the levers of power are combat veterans, let alone combat aviators. Being combat aircrew actually hinders one’s chances of advancement – they are just too busy to ‘fill the squares.’ Why is this important? Combat aviators approach problems with a purpose driven perspective. Many bureaucrats running the service today are process driven and don’t understand those flying the front lines. Basic aviation concepts, from the way aircrew solve problems to fight battles, are alien to most Airmen.

Rampant Careerism. Way too many officers are too concerned with punching a ticket and moving on. Innovation and change require courage to make mistakes. Mistakes kill careers. Therefore, most play it safe, move on, and move up. Challenging times call for big, bold decisions. Instead, our staffs are filled with bureaucrats tending aging fleets and floundering programs. 

I am beginning to doubt the US Air Force can endure as a separate military service.

These are tough words, but these are tough times.

As a young lieutenant I was an intelligence officer assigned to Headquarters, Strategic Air Command. My mentors, grizzled Cold Warriors and experienced analysts, predicted the Soviet Union’s fall. They were certain its decrepit political and economic systems couldn’t withstand the tidal waves of a rapidly changing world. It was not if, they said, but how and when. Watching their assessments come to pass was the most formative event of my early career. It taught me these lessons: nothing is invincible or invulnerable, even superpowers; and great human events can be reasonably predicted in a logical and quantifiable way. Two examples come to mind.

In 1997 my squadron’s intelligence officer, a lieutenant, stood in front of a photo of Osama Bin Laden and told us this relatively unknown figure was an evil genius who would cause America great harm. In 2004 Dr. Fred E. Foldarvy, a renowned economist, assessed the housing bubble would burst and bottom out in 2008, followed by a significant recession. Years in advance their predictions were fairly accurate. Social, economic, and political crises don’t ‘just happen,' they can be, and often are, accurately predicted.    

Today, wise men are sounding another warning, one concerning America’s military future. Recently, Colonel Robert Suminsby, Kirtland Air Force Base Commander, made these public statements to a group of local civic leaders, “If left unchecked, the growth of spending on Social Security and Medicare will eventually crush the defense budget…If we don’t buy new aircraft and satellites now, we simply won’t have an Air Force in another 20 years.” The facts support him. Even the President’s own 2008 budget calls this situation “unsustainable.”

Between now and 2030, entitlement programs, primarily Medicare, will dominate the federal budget to the eventual exclusion of almost all other spending, including defense. 

These programs began in the mid-1960s when senior citizens were less than 10% of the U.S. population and over 5 workers supported each retiree. Today, Baby Boomers (27% of the population) are starting to retire, just as healthcare costs soar 6.9% annually.  Now, only 3 workers support each retiree. In 2007, 41% of Medicare funding came from the same general revenue as defense. In three years Medicare starts operating in the red and will siphon even more money from general revenue.America’s retiree pool is rising, the labor pool is decreasing, and medical costs are skyrocketing. If this equation continues unabated by 2030, with only about 2 taxpaying workers per retiree, Medicare will devour most federal revenue and starve defense spending.

This is clearly a defense issue. Many serving today will feel its full effects. No one associated with America’s defense will escape its reach. The coming Medicare spending crisis is a tsunami and will swallow everything in its path. Our ability to modernize, sustain, and employ military forces will be crippled. Quality of life, healthcare, and retirement benefits will be devastated.  As you read this, the water is rapidly receding to the horizon where a giant wave of red ink is looming. We are neither invincible nor invulnerable in the face of this coming crisis, but we can avert disaster if we examine the facts and heed the warnings.

 

 

 

This unprecedented action speaks to the crisis the Air Force finds itself in, one I believe was well developed before these men took the reins. The service has been rewarding process over purpose for too long, and these gentlemen were in charge when the bill came due. In the past I’ve written about these very subjects in the Air Force Times and this blog. Will things change now? I hope so, but fear not. As long as Airmen are nurtured in a culture of the status quo I think we’ll see events like this happen again.

What will the outcome of this be? A new secretary and chief will take the helm and institute policy letters about ‘accountability’ and doing the ‘right thing for the right reasons.’ There will be commander’s calls, down days, workshops, Tiger Teams, and self-flagellation. Airmen will come out of those meetings saying the right things to the right people and then go back to work doing the same things for the same reasons. The culture preaches “Excellence in all we do,” but rewards, “Excellence in mediocrity.”  In the end, the institution won’t change because our officers and enlisted fear to speak out. What could change that?

Maybe a program like the US Army’s Red Team University might help. We need more skeptics and fewer ‘company’ men, more innovators and fewer stewards, more leaders and fewer bureaucrats, more warriors and fewer managers. We need more officers willing to put the mission and the truth ahead of their next promotion recommendation.

To the Secretary and Chief, thank you for your service and leadership. To the Air Force, this must never happen again.

If you're a concerned American citizen YOU MUST READ this speech entitled "Fiscal Stewardship and Defense Transformation" by the Honorable David M. Walker, US Comptroller. You can find it here: www.gao.gov/cghome/d07600cg.pdf. Put your coffee down, turn off the TV, and click on this link. It is truly that important.

Mr. Walker displays the type of leadership badly needed in our nation. Once again, we have a man in a place of power calling it like he's sees it. His speech before the United States Naval Academy in March of last year should be required reading for all military officers.

 

Here are some excepts:

"Our country is now the world’s largest debtor nation. And our mounting debt is undermining our ability to deal with a range of current and emerging challenges in the 21st century. Our mounting debt is also mortgaging the future of younger Americans like each of you."

"But unless we make significant changes soon, America may look very different in the future. With the looming retirement of the baby boomers, spiraling health care costs, and plummeting personal savings rates, we face unprecedented fiscal risks in the years ahead. The facts on this aren’t in dispute. If we stay on our present path, the United States faces a prolonged period of debt and decline."

 

"The truth is our country faces not one but four interrelated deficits...if you look at the net operating cost of the federal government on an accrual basis, which is how companies report, you get a deficit of $450 billion...We’ve returned to savings levels not seen since the depths of the Great Depression. In fact, America has among the lowest overall savings rates of any major industrialized nation...large government deficits translate into large trade deficits as well as a weakened dollar. So, it shouldn’t surprise you that in 2006, our trade deficit hit a record $763 billion and the value of the dollar has in fact declined...Finally, there’s America’s leadership deficit, which is probably the most serious and sobering of all."

"Right now, some parts of the defense budget, especially military health care costs, are out of control. This simply isn’t sustainable."

"Unlike fraud and abuse, waste doesn’t necessarily involve a violation of the law. It’s more about getting poor value for the money, usually because of mismanagement, poor judgment, inappropriate directions, a failure to act, or weak oversight."

"Entitlement reform is especially urgent. Unless we reform Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid, these programs will eventually crowd out all other federal spending, including defense. Based on historical federal tax levels, by 2040 our government could be doing little more than sending out Social Security checks and paying interest on our massive national debt."

The Los Angeles Times (http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-tankers22apr22,1,4962362) reports an unnamed Air Force official as saying, “It’s really gotten ugly.” The Times goes on to quote Lexington Institute defense analyst Loren Thompson regarding the tanker deal, “The tone of the tanker debate has turned so negative that Air Force leaders are concerned that it could damage their long-term relationship with Boeing.”

I’ll buy that.

Sensing things were spiraling out of control Undersecretary of Defense for Acquisitions John Young (http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/business/359752_tanker19.html) said the following:

"It is going to be dangerous to set aside valid source se