“GENERAL ROLFSON,” I said to the commandant of the Air Force, “we have at least one thing in common. We both have three daughters of roughly the same age, do we not?”
The youthful-looking four-star general with closely cropped hair and darting, angry, eyes regarded me with undisguised suspicion and distrust, an enemy agent who had violated the security of the command compound. The chairman of the subcommittee—Senator Samuel Houston Crawford of Texas—had sung his praise about the reforms at the Academy in Colorado Springs. Sam claimed to have been a jet pilot. In fact, he had washed out in training and served in the logistics department or whatever they called it. I was not about to use this information in the current context, however. If I did that I would have broken all my own rules.
“If you say so, sir,” he replied.
“Would you recommend that any of them should seek an appointment to the Air Force Academy?”
“No, sir, I would not.”
He had told the truth which in the present context for him was a mistake.
“May I ask why not?”
The junior officer next to him whispered in this ear.
“I must distinguish in my response to your question, Senator, between my feelings as an officer in the United States Air Force and my feelings as a father. As an officer I accept the policy of the government on sexual integration in the military. As a father, I have personal reservations about what would be proper for my own children.”
“I see. You mean gender integration, don’t you?”
He blushed and said in a tight voice, “Yes, of course, Senator. Thank you for the correction.”
“I would share those reservations, General. I would not like to see any of my daughters at the controls of a jet fighter, as you were and as well as my distinguished friend from Texas.”
“I still fly jets, Senator.”
“For which I admire you greatly, General, though I will be excused, I trust, from imitating you … But could not young women serve well in, let us say, the logistical and supply components of the Air Force?”
I dared not look to see if the Senator from Texas had squirmed.
“Perhaps, I did not make myself clear, Senator. I support the policy of the American government but I personally do not believe that women belong in the military even when they are not in harm’s way.”
He was dead now, poor man. Whatever hope he had of being chairman of the joint chiefs had slipped away. Still he could retire on the salary of a four-star officer and work for some Texas oil company.
“Might I ask why, General?”
“I personally believe that the kind of men we need in the military are aggressive, dominant men, the only kind that can really fight wars. Women make it more difficult to sustain such an attitude.”
“The Air Force wants warriors you mean?”
“You never served in the military, did you Senator?”
“I did not, General. But I remind you that the American tradition is that the military is under civilian control.”
“I understand that, of course, Senator. The military needs fighting men, I’m sure you agree with that.”
“Warriors?”
“If you wish to call them that.”
“And in a warrior culture, women are more likely to be in danger of assault?”
“We will do everything we can to prevent that, sir. But it will almost certainly happen.”
This exchange would make national television tonight. I felt sorry for the general, but more sorry for the victims of the culture of rape at the Academy.
“Warriors are more likely to rape women if they are available victims and warrior officers are more likely to wink at such attacks?”
“I didn’t say that, sir. I said we would do everything we can to prevent such attacks. But women in the service should understand the dangers and not act provocatively.”
“Women in a warrior culture sometimes seduce rapists?”
“You’re putting those words in my mouth, Senator.”
“Let us think a moment, General, about a company like, let us say, Microsoft. Why are they not troubled by the emergence of a rape culture?”
“Because they hire different kind of men, Senator.”
“Not the kind of men you need to fight a war? A little less savage perhaps?”
“The senator’s time has expired,” said Sam Houston, whose adulteries were notorious in the Senate.
“I thank the senator. I also thank General Rolfson for his candor. American parents will understand better the risks of a daughter enrolling at any service academy.”
I sank back in my plush chair, sick to my stomach. I had destroyed a man’s career and his reputation and warned people that the military culture as it currently existed tolerated a “boys will be boys” attitude about rape. That culture could change eventually, but not in the present culture of the United States Senate.
Robbie who was sitting behind me leaned over and whispered, “Will you talk to the media afterwards?”
Her perfume was enticing.
“I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“Are you proud of what you did to General Rolfson, Senator?” the first question from the media.
“It is the duty of the committee to oversee the armed services. I ask questions with that duty in view.”
“You seemed to suggest that rape is encouraged in the current culture of the military?”
“Suggest? I said it outright.”
“You think this cannot be changed?”
“The difference between General Rolfson and me is not over whether we want our daughters at the Air Force Academy. Neither of us do and for the same reasons. The difference is
whether we believe that some warriors are necessarily rapists. However strong the sexual urges of young males might be, I believe that a society has the duty to impose sanctions that prevent them from attacking women.”
I returned to my office deeply discouraged. Our pension bill would languish in the house. Rape would continue to be commonplace in the military. I was wasting my time. Our struggle to defend private property from Wal-Mart big boxes had a chance, but why did it all have to be so difficult?
Some of my colleagues were drifting back into the office building after their return from their constituencies and families. I envied them. I didn’t belong here. Maybe my brother was right. No, certainly he was right.
The headline in the Examiner the next day said it all.
TOMMY ATTACKS WAR HERO