A Man Named Dave

scattering them more. The doctor ordered me to stop trying to help and get out of his office as fast as humanly possible. As I hurried out the door, the doctor flashed a smile. “Over that clumsy period, eh?”
    Hours later that same day, I sat frozen in front of a computer next to an air force sergeant who typed in an endless stream of information. Finally, the sergeant paused, turned toward me, and nonchalantly asked, “So, what day do you want to enlist?”
    I shook my head, not sure I had heard what the sergeant just asked. I leaned forward and whispered, “You mean, I’m in? I can join? You’re actually asking me if I want to join?”
    “Don’t make a federal case out of it. Yeah, you’re in – that is, unless the FBI tells us you’re a criminal,” the sergeant teased.
    My mind immediately flashed back to all the close calls I had had with the police for speeding tickets when I was a teenager. My heart skipped a beat. I knew that if the air force found out about my past, I was a goner. The sergeant startled me when he tapped on my shoulder. “Hey, Pelz-ter, relax. So … when do you want to enlist?”
    I was lost in a daze. Now you have the chance to make something of yourself. Now is your time to build a life. I simply could not believe that after struggling over six months, I had actually made it.
    I allowed myself the reward of smiling. “When’s the soonest I can join?”
    He snapped back, “Girlfriend problems, eh?” Before I had a chance to respond, the man bowed his head and feverishly pounded on the computer keyboard. “Well,” he began, “if you really feel the need for speed, I can have you on a plane and in basic training by … tonight. Or, if that doesn’t suit you, you can enlist next week. So, what will it be?”
    I immediately knew what I had to do, but a wave of shame washed over me. For months I had lied to my foster parents, telling them that I was taking specialized tests and interviewing for a job, which in a way I felt I was. The Turnboughs had no idea what I was really up to. I felt a sudden urge to run off and enlist and then simply phone them from boot camp. Besides my foster parents and a handful of close friends, I had no one in my life. No girlfriends, no work buddies, no friends who picked me up to go cruising or see movies, no relatives to speak of – no one. I felt that if I fell off the face of the earth, less than half a dozen people would even notice. But deep in my heart I knew that I owed my real family — my foster parents and whatever friends I had – more than a long-distance phone call. Above all, it was a matter of honor. I let out a deep sigh before answering the sergeant. “Next week.”
    “All right, next week. You sure about this?” he politely asked.
    Without blinking an eye, I nodded my head. “Yes, sir!”
    The sergeant pressed a button, and the computer began printing a stream of papers. “Sign here, here, here, here and … here,” he informed me without a trace of emotion. I stared at the blocks with the bright red Xs. This is it! I told myself. I snatched the government pen and scribbled my name so hard that I nearly tore through the sheets of papers. As the sergeant took the paperwork and typed in more commands to his computer, I killed time by looking at the framed glossy photographs of the high-tech air force fighter jets. My mouth began to water at the sleek, crisp lines of the airplanes against the endless blue sky.
    “Sir, is that the F-15 jet fighter?” I asked, pointing at a photograph above his desk.
    Without looking up from the computer, the sergeant replied, “Nope … F-16.”
    I nodded my head to the sergeant’s answer, then stated before thinking, “Excuse me, sir, but if I’m not mistaken, that’s the McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle: first strike, air superior fighter, capable of speeds in excess of Mach 2.5, produced by a pair of G.E. F-100 after-burning engines….”
    The sergeant turned toward me with his mouth hung open.
    “Did I say something wrong, sir?” I thought for a moment of what I had just said, and even I was surprised how easy the basic technical aspects of the airplane came from my mouth. All these facts I had learned from the recruitment brochures and stream of books I had digested over the last few months.
    He simply nodded for me to continue.
    Immediately I thought this was part of some strange test. I closed my eyes to recall as much as I could. “Uhm, I know it has a comple … dent – I mean, complement of AIM-7 Sparrow and AIM-9 Sidewinder