Boyd [antikvár]

Prologue o' Reminiscences On March 20, 1997, a somber crowd gathered in the Old Post Chapel at Arlington National Cemetery, across the Potomac from Washington, D.C. They came to attend the memorial service for Colonel John Richard Boyd, United States Air Force, retired. Winter often lingers in the hills of northern Virginia. And on that Thursday morning a cold rain and overcast skies caused many in the crowd to wrap their winter coats tighter and to hurry for the doors of the chapel. Full military honors were provided for Boyd — a ceremonial detachment that included an honor guard, band, rifle squad, and flag-draped caisson drawn by six gray horses. Boyd was a fighter pilot. He wore the Air Force uniform for twenty-four years. During that time he made more contributions to fighter tactics, aircraft design, and the theory of air combat than any man in Air Force history. But on that soft and dreary day when Boyd's ashes were laid to rest, the Air Force all but ignored his passing. Only two uniformed Air Force officers were in the congregation. One, a three-star general, represented the Air Force chief of staff. He sat alone in the front row and was plainly uncomfortable. The other was a major who knew Boyd's work and simply wanted to pay his respects. Neither man had ever met John Boyd. A chaplain opened the Protestant service. Then, one by one, three of Boyd's oldest friends walked to the front of the chapel. Tom Christie, a tall, white-haired man, solemnly read the Twenty-third Psalm. Ron Catton, one of Boyd's former students and a fellow fighter pilot, delivered the first eulogy. He quoted Sophocles: "One must wait