…Now, sources tell us that OSD may actually chop an additional carrier from the Navy’s battle fleet, a move that would take the force down to nine carriers from the current total of 11…Skipping a future carrier purchase doesn’t save money now. Cutting one flattop from the existing force would.

…For one, the Navy is required by law to maintain 11 carriers… when former CSBA naval analyst and now Navy under secretary, Bob Work, gave his shipbuilding brief earlier this year, he said that if forced by a constrained shipbuilding budget to trim the planned build, he would cut the carrier force to 9.

Work’s former boss at CSBA, the influential Andrew Krepinevich, wrote in the July issue of Foreign Affairs in an article…carriers risk “operational irrelevance” as nations develop improved submarines and increasingly accurate, long-range anti-ship missiles that put the big flattops at risk. (emphasis mine)

Krepinevich’s argument missile technology and submarine proliferation makes flattops irrelevant are the same arguments from the 1970s, when the left tried to kill America’s super carrier programs. How does this make any sense? Aren’t these conventional capabilities the very threats the modern carrier is designed to combat? A third world fleet with a few electric diesels and some shore-to-ship missiles are a pale reflection of the Soviet Fleet at its height (which dared not directly engage a super carrier task force).

The simliar arguments are now turned against the F-22, like in this article from this morning’s Time.com by Mark Thompson:

The Air Force spent years fighting to keep building the $350 million F-22 fighter, an airplane crammed with so much gee-whiz technology there's a law barring it from being sold to any other nation. But since no other nation is building such a plane to challenge it, the F-22 has become a costly investment with an uncertain payoff...now the service is seeking 100 slower, lower-flying and far cheaper airplanes — most likely prop-driven — that it can use to kill insurgents today and use to train local pilots — such as Afghans or Iraqis — tomorrow.

The list of requirements for what the Air Force is calling its Light Attack Armed Reconnaissance plane is fairly basic, and ... must be capable of flying 900-mile missions at up to 200 miles per hour (compared with up to 1500 mph for the F-22), including at night and poor weather. It will carry guns and rockets, along with a pair of 500-pound bombs, according to an Air Force solicitation issued last month. It will have to fly to and from dirt airfields where the only ground support is fuel...

Planes likely to vie for the contract — slated to begin flying in 2012 —include the Kansas-built Hawker Beechcraft T-6, currently the Air Force's basic trainer... This emphasis on down-and-dirty warfare is a real change for the Air Force, which for years has been hyper-focused on building the most sophisticated fighter planes in the world. The military blog Danger Room recently quoted from Air Force studies dating back to 2005 that spoke of the service's "pre-occupation with procurement of the F-22" at the expense of counter-insurgency missions, and its "nasty habit of forgetting the hard-learned lessons of irregular operations..."

The Air Force's new top officer has said this low-tech aircraft "is really consistent with Secretary Gates' thinking" in favor of simple weapons that can be bought quickly and perform more than one mission. A rugged and simple warplane that can be flown against insurgents by U.S. pilots who also train foreign pilots in their own language "is a very attractive way to approach this problem," General Norton Schwartz, the Air Force chief of staff, said in April.

His civilian boss concurs. Air Force Secretary Michael Donley recently said that such a plane "will help build up the security capabilities of partners facing counter-terrorist operations, counter-insurgency operations." Nations like Afghanistan and Iraq "are not going to be able to — and do not have a need to — operate at that higher end of the conflict spectrum," he added. Nor can they afford to — the $350 million used to buy each of the 187 F-22s will pay for a fleet of about 50 of these planned counter-insurgency warplanes.

First, Mr. Thompson’s assertion that “no other nation is building such a plane to challenge(the F-22)” is dead wrong. How can someone write for a major magazine and blatantly get such a basic fact wrong?About 2 minutes on Google turned up these facts on a challenger to the F-22:

“The PAK FA (or PAK-FA) is a Russian fifth-generation fighter jet ...intended to replace the MiG-29 and Su-27 in the Russian Air Force...”

“On 07 July 2008 Air Force commander Col. Gen. Alexander Zelin said "We will begin test flights [of the new fighter] in 2009, and hope to receive the aircraft in 2013".

The left made the same arguments in the 1970s when they tried to kill the F-15 as “too expensive and too complex.” Thirty years later the mighty F-15 is considered by most has the most successful fighter plane in history. Now the left wants the Air Force to get rid of its premiere fighter capability because there are no peer competitors and it wants the Navy to cut back on its premiere surface capability because there are peer competitors. This is laughable.

The Air Force must make every dollar it spends count. This means pursuing multi-role platforms, like the F-35 and F/A-22 (yes, it was once called the “F/A” for both fighter and attack). These can be used for both air defense and close air support. A little modified T-6 cannot perform ANY other mission than light counter insurgency ops. In this role it will be fodder for AAA (anti-aircraft artillery) and MANPAD (man portable air defense) missiles in any theater of war. The Air Force already has counter-insurgency capabilities it can expand on in the form of the venerable A-10 and the new Reaper UAV. Why not buy more of these?

These arguments are simply smoke screens for cutting weapon systems to fund domestic initiatives. We are repeating the Hollow Force concept under the Carter Administration in the wake of LBJ’s massive “Great Society” domestic programs. In the wake of these decisions we are stripping America of its ability to project strategic power and defend our nation from afar.

Gates made his statement to Congress yesterday on his plan for defense spending with few surprises. Let’s revisit my predictions:

1. Some defense spending will remain strong, even as the budget shrinks. This will only be for certain mature programs and only in key democratic districts. 

Defense spending will increase by 4% in real dollars. That’s about par with inflation (depending on whose inflation numbers one uses), though smaller than the service chiefs asked for.

The F-35 program will increase. The tanker program survives. The Navy can keep its 11-carrier fleet and buy more F/A-18s. Its new destroy will be scaled back, not cut, and it can resume building Arleigh Burke-class destroyers. The Army’s future combat system will also be scaled back. The Marines will lose the new presidential helicopter program but, with the Army, will boost force strength. Special operations and intelligence assets also get a big boost.

Now its congresses turn. In the end they have the final say. I think they will go along with most (but not all) of Gates’ recommendations due to tremendous pressure from the White House. Any changes will be to align spending and programs with districts of the democratic majority. We will know for sure by fall of this year.

2. 'Big programs, small programs, nothing will be sacred. Expect early retirement for various weapon systems. This will not impact democratic districts. Don’t hold your breath on a new rescue helicopter unless the HH-47 wins. Parts of it are made in Murtha’s state of PA.

Murtha was out with knee surgery and the entire Air Force rescue helicopter went down in flames. In fact, only the Air Force took major force-wide hits. Only its tanker program made it out unscathed (the F-35 is a joint program with Navy, Marines and U.K.). The F-22 was terminated – no more will be built. The C-17 was terminated – no more will be built. Missile defense – gutted. The new bomber – scrapped. New transformational satellite program – scrapped. Over 200 front line fighters – retired. It was another bad day for the Air Force.

3. Rep. Barney Frank’s comment about a 25% cut in overall defense spending will come true, but not in the baseline budget. Expect the wartime supplemental spending to plummet as troops come home from Iraq.

Supplemental spending debate doesn’t begin in earnest until later this spring…more to follow here.

What do I think about all these changes Sec. Gates is making? I’m still digesting his proposals, but I don’t think he had much choice. I’ll discuss this in more detail later.

The Defense Department wants a rocket ship. Defense planners state we have a valid requirement to blast a small force of troops anywhere on planet earth in less than two hours. According to the 17 October edition of Stars and Stripes

Civilian and military officials held a two-day conference at the National Security Space Office (NSSO) to plan development of the Small Unit Space Transport and Insertion — or SUSTAIN — program…the Marines (need) the "capability to transport small, mission-tailored units through space from any point on the globe to a contingency at any other point on the globe" within minutes of an order, the paper reported, sourcing to a Marine document…Private rocket pioneer Burt Rutan says the plan is technologically possible, “…This has never been done," Rutan told USA Today in an e-mail. "However, it is feasible. It would be a relatively expensive way to get the troops on the ground, but it could be done."

I was just wondering if the Defense Department could invent a rocket ship to bring these “civilian and military officials” from the NSSO back to Planet Earth. If the Pentagon is struggling to acquire more terrestrial, conventional weapons systems how can it hope to build a “Buzz Lightyear” system like this?  

For example, the Air Force takes 20 years just to field new fighters like the F-22. It’s failed to acquire a new aerial tanker after a decade of trying. It took both the Marines and Air Force over 20 years to field the V-22 Osprey, the tilt-rotor aircraft. The Marine’s current new version of the venerable H-1 Huey, the UH-1Y, just entered service with severe performance limitations to the irritation of John Young, the Undersecretary of Acquisitions. According to Inside the Pentagon, Young commented on the likelihood that DOD would have to pay roughly $72 million to fix the UH-1Y’s major deficiency even though the problem prevents the aircraft from maneuvering as required. This was just a Huey upgrade program, the ancient and relatively simple helicopter of Vietnam fame. The Marines aren’t the only ones having problems buying helicopters. The Air Force is still unsuccessful in its half-decade old quest to buy a common, off-the-shelf helicopter to replace its 1980-era H-60s. The Army, perhaps the leading authority in military helicopters, just had the $6.2 billion Armed Reconnaissance Helicopter program cancelled by Secretary Young. The Bell ARH-70, designed to replace the 40 year old OH-58 Kiowa scout helicopter, was 40% over-budget and underperformed.

Helicopters and airplanes are not ‘rocket science’ - NASA’s area of expertise. Has anyone in the DoD talked to them lately? Their Orion spacecraft, an Apollo rehash, is delayed again. From 2010 to 2015 American astronauts will hitch rides with our dear and old friends the Russians. NASA is the world’s leader in rockets and they’re having a hard time getting its “retro” rocket into space; and the Pentagon is seriously entertaining the idea of fielding something this cutting edge beyond the atmosphere?  

It’s funny they call this rocket ship “SUSTAIN,” because we’re having a heck of a time just trying to sustain the run-of-the-mill weapons systems we already have. This week the Air Force announced it will cut a massive portion of its frontline fighter force, about 300 fighters including F-15s, F-16s and A-10s, by 2010. The money will be used to sustain other current programs, including manpower. There’s a technical term for this: cannibalization. The Navy announced it is cutting the purchase of one of its much needed half-billion dollar littoral combat ships, citing budget issues. The new Hollow Force is starting to take shape, and this is before the emerging budget crisis really kicks into gear.  

According to the 17 October The Washington Times: 

The spiraling financial crisis and the ballooning costs of wars in Iraq and Afghanistan will force U.S. military planners to make hard choices about defense spending, which has risen at unprecedented levels since 2001, defense officials and experts say…Jeremy Potter, a senior analyst for federal industry with the government contractor consulting group INPUT, said the full impact of the bailout´s cost would not be felt until fiscal 2010, which begins next Oct. 1…A year from now, "defense program managers are going to be scrambling to get their programs funded," he said.

I know, some of you thinking, “Hey, it was just a meeting, it doesn’t mean we’re serious about building a new rocket.” I think even entertaining the concept shows the lack of serious focus within the Pentagon about where we find ourselves:

The services are starting to cannibalize mainstay programs, the Pentagon can’t buy new weapons systems with the money it already has, money for future force modernization is drying up, and the threats to our nation are growing stronger.

There, I just boiled America’s strategic military position down to one sentence. I, the military equivalent to Joe The Plumber, just did what all the brass, consultants, and think tanks in the Beltway can’t or won’t do. Everything the Pentagon does, every penny it spends, should exist within this strategic prism. Building a multi-billion dollar rocket to throw a platoon from one side of the planet to the other is about as far outside this box as one can get. It’s dangerous because it shows our friends and adversaries an unnerving lack of focus within our defense establishment.

Its time to get serious.

Last week the US Government absorbed almost a trillion dollars of the most noxious corporate debt imaginable. To put it in perspective, the government has an annual operating budget of about three trillion dollars and only takes in about 2.7 trillion in revenue. This new debt is equivalent to almost three annual defense budgets! Overnight, the US federal debt leapt by at least a ten percent. Whatever budget estimates and expectations Pentagon leadership had up to this point can be thrown out. It’s a new fiscal ball game.

In my article, “Entitlements Threaten Defense Spending” (Townhall Magazine, September 2008) I likened entitlement spending, like Medicare, to a tsunami of red ink poised to crush the defense budget. With this week’s unprecedented corporate bailout packages our nation effectively ran out to meet that giant wave.  If the republic is to survive something will have to give.

That something will be defense, the biggest slice of the non-discretionary federal budget. Congress and the next president will have to cut federal spending in order to service this new debt. If they don’t, they risk potentially destroying America’s currency and credit rating – bad, very bad. 

Those staffers will tell the Pentagon budget planners (those working on something called the ‘POM’) to start planning deep cuts. They’ll give these planners draconian bottom lines and tell them to meet them - period. The planners will start a series of budget drills and the real fun begins.

Over the next few months rumors of the deep budget cuts will seep outside the Pentagon. Small programs, big programs – nothing will be sacred. The defense budget will be so different next year it as to be almost unrecognizable.

The Air Force will get hit hardest since it’s currently the least favored branch among the political elites. Since the new aerial tanker was punted to the next administration it’s uniquely vulnerable. I believe by this time next year it will be on indefinite hold and some token funds will be thrown at the old KC-135 to extend its life a few more years.  Don’t hold your breath on a new replacement rescue helicopter. I believe that program is doomed now. Expect early retirement for various weapons systems those with high operating costs, perhaps like the B-1 bomber.  

I cannot speak to the specifics of the other services, but they’ll get hit hard, too. Even the Army and the Marines, the most engaged in combat operations, will feel the heat. It won’t just be weapons acquisition programs, either. Personnel program cuts will be close behind.

I’m not talking about tweaks in the system, but sudden and draconian cuts. It will start with pronouncements on cutting travel costs. Then they’ll cut medical costs in new and painful ways. Tricare will eventually pay pennies on the dollar as co-pays for dependant medical care skyrockets. There will be drastic rollbacks in retiree medical benefits and huge shake-ups of the retirement system itself. Then the real cuts will begin.

The Navy and Air Force will resume their downward force cuts to unprecedented levels, perhaps in the range of 250,000 for each service. The additional forces added to the Marines and Army since 2003 will be rescinded. There may even be serious consideration of consolidating the services. I believe in 3-5 years we’ll find the military 25% smaller…at least.

With all these force cuts, how will we fight the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan?

We won’t. With this new, staggering debt load members of both political parties will accelerate our departure from Iraq and even Afghanistan, regardless of the political and military consequences. Only a token naval and air power component will remain in the Gulf Region to protect the oil. Expect withdrawal of forces from most of the Pacific and Europe as well.

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? 

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.