Up, Up, and Away!

Author © Scott D. Zachary

       Tell me “No,” but don’t do it with your butt pointing at me. Lieutenant Colonel Kraszewski’s insolent rejection of my request to transfer to the mainframe computers lit an instant fire in my veins. That abrupt conversation sharply diverted my course in life. I focused all my wherewithal to bear on one task: Up, Up, and Away!

       Short of desertion, I knew of only one way to defy Colonel Kraszewski, and the odds of achieving it were heavily stacked against me. After agonizing in the bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-95 to the Pentagon, I had already scouted all my options for reassignment. They came down to one: Airman Education Commissioning Program (AECP). If chosen, I would be reassigned to a university to complete my bachelor’s degree in computer science or engineering. Then I’d be required to attend Officer Training School at Lackland Air Force Base and serve as an officer for six years. I had earlier discounted AECP because only one in sixty applicants is accepted for this highly competitive program. That’s less than a 2% probability of being selected. Like the gambler betting everything on an upturned pair of deuces without respect for the monumental odds, I pushed my lot to the center of the table.

       I planned to keep my subversive enterprise covert with respect to Colonel Kraszewski. I got off the midnight shift that morning, and instead of going to the Education Office at the Pentagon, I dashed over to the Education Office at Bolling Air Force Base, a short drive across Washington, D.C. Single-minded, I paid no mind to the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building along the way.

       The Education Officer at Bolling, Mrs. Stanton, expertly fielded all my questions about AECP. She told me that we would need to amass a pile of documentation: transcripts from all of the colleges and universities that I had attended in Europe and at Pease AFB, all of my Airman Performance Reports (APRs) for the past four years, two exemplary letters of recommendation from top brass, a Letter of Academic Eligibility from AFIT (the Air Force Institute of Technology at Wright Patterson AFB), a spotless physical examination, and high marks on the AFOQT (Air Force Officer Qualification Test).

       I worked with Mrs. Stanton to immediately request all of my transcripts and my APRs. I figured that would put a man on first base with a 3.85 average through my first two years of college and perfect 9s on all of my performance reports. Mrs. Stanton told me that there was no way to prepare for the AFOQT aptitude test. She gave me a sample test, and I glanced over it. The test consisted of verbal analogies, arithmetic reasoning (word problems), word knowledge (vocabulary), math knowledge, and reading comprehension.

       I returned to the Pentagon and spent a couple of hours looking up the appropriate regulations to see how I could re-enlist for a $10,000 bonus and not have to pay it back when I’m accepted into AECP. I wanted to rake in the whole pot. The regs stated that I could keep the bonus as long as I hadn’t already formally applied for AECP when I re-enlisted. My application for academic eligibility would have no bearing on it.

       I departed the Pentagon and spent the rest of that day and two days of emergency leave driving around to all the libraries in the region gathering as many aptitude tests as I could find. Over the next few weeks, I accumulated aptitude tests, compiled word lists, looked them up, and memorized the first, second, and third definitions of several thousand words that are commonly used in aptitude tests. I generally don’t have a photographic mind, but when I’m on a manic roll mothering a blazing sparkle, it’s pretty close to that. All I had to do to keep the mania sizzling was replay that minute of insolent denial in my mind.

       My transcripts arrived at the Education Office, and Mrs. Stanton helped me put together my request for a Letter of Academic Eligibility. We sent it priority mail to AFIT. Mrs. Stanton called me a few days later to tell me that I would need to achieve at least a B in a calculus course to meet AFIT’s academic requirements before I could apply for AECP.

       Going straight to Northern Virginia Community College, I spoke with a woman in their admissions office. She told me that their compressed eight-week calculus summer class had already started ten days earlier. I said, “Sign me up.”

       “Are you sure?” she asked. “That course is tough enough in a short summer term without missing the first two weeks.”

       “Yes, ma’am.”

       I got a D+ on my first calculus exam, but I only had one night to cram for it. I would need all As on the remaining exams to get AFIT’s required B for the course. I ramped up my brazen determination all the way, averaging two hours sleep a night. Adrenaline electrified my perch as I ruled the roost!

       In order not to alert Colonel Kraszewski of my endeavor, I went to his boss, Colonel Wendt, and asked him if I could get letters of recommendation from the “stars above.” He made appointments with a three-star general in my chain of command and a civil service officer with the equivalent rank of a three-star general. I went to see them. After having heard Colonel Wendt’s glowing account of my performance, both agreed to let me write the first draft of my recommendation letter, and upon review, would sign it. In order not to wet my feet, I walked well above the water in those letters of recommendation that I wrote.

       Two runners on, one in scoring position.

       I studied around-the-clock for days on end and got the top score on the mid-term calculus exam—100%.

       Cocksure, I asked Colonel Kraszewski to swear me in at my six-year re-enlistment ceremony. Even though I had chatted with him for a few minutes during most of the nights that I worked on the tower, he still had no clue that I was on an all-out rampage to elude his haughtiness. I cashed my $10,000 bonus check (less taxes, of course) without even considering that if I’m not accepted into AECP, my re-enlistment will guarantee that I’d be under Colonel Kraszewski’s thumb for the next couple of years.

       “That’s one of the highest overall scores I’ve seen in my thirty-three years working in the Education Center,” Mrs. Stanton exclaimed after grading my AFOQT aptitude test. “...and those are the highest scores I’ve seen on the verbal analogies and vocabulary sections!” I didn’t tell her that I had memorized the first three definitions of thousands of words to prepare for it.

       Bases loaded.

       I scored in the 90s on both my third and final calculus exams, giving me a solid B average. I waited while the Northern Virginia Community College Registrar prepared my transcript and faxed it to the Bolling Education Office. Upon receipt, Mrs. Stanton overnighted my three-inch-thick Airman Education Commissioning Program application to the Air Force Institute of Technology. AFIT received my application one day before the board met. Even as I write this, the adrenaline is gushing through my veins, thinking about the scintillating mindset that possessed my brain during those ten weeks.

       Captain Mason called me from Wright Patterson the following Monday. “Congratulations, Scott! You’ve been accepted into the Airman Education Commissioning Program, and you will be attending the University of Illinois beginning in January.”

       “Sir, I’ve already registered and paid for a full load of computer classes at the University of Maryland starting next Monday.”

       “We’ve consolidated our list of universities, and the University of Maryland is no longer on the list. Besides, there’s no way I can have official orders prepared that fast.”

       “Is there any way at all that you can do it, sir? My family and I are already living in base housing at Bolling Air Force Base, a short drive to the University of Maryland, and it would save the Air Force the expense of having to move us. You won’t even have to pay for my classes for the first semester. I’ve already put it on my GI Bill.”

       “I love your initiative, Scott. How could I say no? You haven’t left me any options. I suppose I could fax a copy of your orders to the Air Force Data Services Center Admin Office at the Pentagon and then mail the official copies to you next week.”

       “Would you please fax a copy to the attention of Lieutenant Colonel Kraszewski, sir? I’m sure he’d be thrilled for me.”

       “Sure, I can do that.”

       “Thank you, sir!”

       WHACK!!! Grand slam to College Park.