Yeager: An Autobiography

A MIRACLE STAR

In the fall of 1968, the time came to deploy from Korea back to our base at Seymour Johnson in North Carolina, and all three of my F-4 Phantom squadrons made it back as neat and clean as a pin. No aborts, no problems. I maintained a perfect deployment record in TAC that was unique. General Disosway, TAC's commander, wrote a glowing commendation, calling me his outstanding wing commander. But a couple of months after I returned to the States, TAC got a new commanding general and I told Glennis, "Better pack our bags. I may not be around long." Gen. William Momyer came back from Vietnam and took over.

Forget the compliments from others; I figured I was in for a rough ride. Not long after he took over the general came down to Seymour Johnson and we finally met. He looked me over, stepped into my staff car, and never said a word on the ten-minute ride to wing headquarters. I briefed him on my wing, our activities in Korea, and our current status. He nodded and left. We were together more than an hour, and I can't recall him saying a word.

A month later, I took my outfit down to Puerto Rico and staged a firepower demonstration. Momyer was there. I led the wing on the bombing exercise, and laid in a snake-eye bomb right in the box. The general ignored it. The guy was allergic to me, and because he was my boss and a four-star general, I had a bad itch. He had his opinion about me, and I had mine about him, but his was the one that counted.

Not long after, an assistant secretary of the Air Force came down to Seymour Johnson with an entourage to see a typical TAC base in operation, and the escorting general wheeled them in my direction. The secretary (whose name I've forgotten) said, "I'd love to go up in one of your fighters." Hell, why not? I'd flown VIPs around dozens of times, given them a nice smooth ride, and they had always enjoyed it. So, I took this guy up, even hit a tanker with him in the back seat so he could see how we refueled, then went out and fired some rounds for him on the gunnery range. He was really delighted and flew back to Washington around two in the afternoon. About five-thirty, I was Dulling into the driveway of my house when the radio in my staff car informed me that General Momyer was calling. I said, "Just a minute. I'll get on my hot line in the house."

Hot line it was. That damned receiver practically melted to my ear. Momyer was in a rage. I had never before been exposed to such verbal abuse: "How dare you fly that secretary without my permission? Who in hell do you think you are? Yeager, I'm telling you this-there isn't enough room in this command for both of us." On and on, until I finally said, "General, I don't know what you heard, but the Pentagon people brought him down and wanted to impress him and handed him over to me. I thought I had impressed him fine." Momyer banged down the receiver.

I was slightly concerned, about the way I'd feel if a wing fell off. I called a few of the senior officers on Momyer's staff to get some feedback about what went wrong. I was told, "Don't worry about it. You know how the boss can get. You did a good job with the secretary. Don't worry about a thing." But, hell, I knew better. There was no way I was going to survive that kind of chewing out by a four-star general who ran TAC. I was one of his senior employees, and if this were a civilian corporation, I'd already be heading for unemployment. My days as a wing commander under that guy were in a quick countdown. He was going to get rid of me as fast as he could. I never knew what his grievance was but the boss doesn't have to explain himself. For all I knew I was already gone, but the paperwork just hadn't caught up with the decision.

And that's how it turned out, although not quite in the negative way I expected. A couple of days later, when I returned from lunch and found a telephone message to call Lt. Gen. Gordon Graham, TAC's vice commander, I knew damned well what the message was going to be. Gordy was a friend, he came on the line and said, "Well, Chuck, you're not gonna like part of what I've got to say."

I sighed. He said, "You know, generals are not allowed to fly their own airplanes except under special circumstances. I'm sure that won't make you happy, but if I know you, you'll find a way to wiggle around it." I said, "What in hell are you talking about?" He replied, "Congratulations, General Yeager."

I came damned close to fainting. "Jesus, Gordy, are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not. I've got the promotion board list right in front of me and I see the name Charles E. Yeager as brigadier general, U.S. Air Force."

It was a miracle. That board of generals met annually to consider the names of colonels recommended for promotion to general officer by each of the major commands. Each command submitted five or six candidates, making about twenty-five to thirty new generals from the ranks of five thousand full colonels, and I knew General Momyer didn't name me among the six colonels from TAC recommended for promotion. But my perfect deployment record was well known throughout the Air Force, and one of the generals on the board remarked about the absence of my name from TAC's list. I found out that the board asked for my records from the Pentagon, saw the evaluations I had received from General Wilson and General Disosway, and concluded that I deserved promotion. Momyer wasn't even consulted. The board of ten generals published their list and sent it to the Secretary of the Air Force, who, in turn, forwarded it to the Senate to be ratified. The President had to sign it because the number of general officers is controlled by law.

I was just stunned. And elated. Hell, yes, I wanted to become a general before I retired, but I thought my lack of education would probably screw my chances of making it someday. And I sure didn't expect it to happen while I was under Momyer's command. For a guy who came in as a private and worked his way up through the ranks, it was one hell of a wonderful honor. I called Glennis and said, "Hey, you think you can stand living with a general officer around the house?" She said, "It depends. Who do you have in mind?" When I told her, she let out a big whoop.

I remember thinking, "Well, the system never has let me down. In spite of everything, the system is fair and just." Outside of Glennis, the first people I told were my maintenance crews. I went down to the flight line and gave them the word. In the past, if we had a Saturday night wing banquet or party at the officers' club, I would take some of the guests, especially those who had good-looking wives load them in a staff car, and go down on the flight line to show them the airplanes. The kids working night shift really appreciated it, particularly if the wives wore miniskirts. So, I went down and told them, "You guys really helped me get this thing. You're the reason we have the best deployment record in TAC."

I never heard a word from General Momyer. No note of congratulations, nothing. I guess silence was his message, although it was highly unusual for a commanding general not to congratulate a new general in his command. To this day, I really don't know what caused his hostility, and I was nervous that he could somehow get me off that promotion list. But friends at the Pentagon reassured me that the general's hands were tied. I just hoped those ropes were strong.

A few days after learning of my promotion, I flew to Washington to lead the fly-by over the Capitol at President Eisenhower's funeral. The weather was bad, but the guys flying with me were good and we had no problem. That night I went to dinner with some friends from TAC command, and we celebrated my promotion. I said, "That's the way politics can be in the Air Force. You can really get wiped out unless people are pulling for you."

The first time I was referred to as "General Yeager" really was a thrill. It happened a few months later, when Glennis and I boarded a C-141 to fly to Germany to start my new assignment as vice commander of the Seventeenth Air Force. By law, there can be only a limited number of generals, and a newly promoted general can't pin on his star until a vacancy exists. But because of my new assignment, I was authorized to wear my star to Germany, although I would not begin to draw general's pay until the effective date. So we boarded that airplane and the crew chief saluted and said, "Welcome aboard, General Yeager." That really sounded nice. Glennis said, "Well, it took us ten years to get back to Germany, but at least we're going back in style."

We picked up right where we left off with our German friends. In the year-and-a-half we were there, I got to the point where I not only could speak some German, but I could actually make myself understood.

My Job was interesting. I worked closely with the Sixth Allied Tactical Air Force and the West Germans in organizing joint NATO exercises and training. Glennis and I were just in hog heaven. But during Christmas of 1970, I received a call from Air Force headquarters alerting me to a new assignment. The job title was, "U.S. Defense Representative to Pakistan." I asked, "What do we have in Pakistan, and why me?" The answer was I would fly with their air force, help them to train and advise them, especially in the use of Sidewinders. Why me? I had been personally requested for the job by a fellow West Virginian, our ambassador Joe Farland, through the State Department; the Pentagon had kicked it around and finally consented to let me go there.

Hell, I didn't know a thing about the country. I'd been there once, very briefly, stopping off when I rotated into Turkev. I knew it was very primitive and rough country and Moslem. Glennis knew even less. She said, "Where is it on the map?" Susie, who was twenty, was working in the library. I asked them if they wanted to go. They both kind of shrugged. I said, "What the hell, it will be an adventure for all of us." And it really was: I landed in the middle of the Pakistan-Indian war, while Glennis helped to dream up a device that swept the country-colored condoms.