The pilot pushed the Saberliner throttles forward and relaxed only a little. The Army’s Commanding General stayed too long. Now he, the aerial chauffeur, had to turn this jet into a time machine. Okay, what can I do? he asked himself. Let’s see … skip the fuel stop; there’s enough. Forget the airways; fly direct. They could still make the meeting if everything went right. Later, still making it and only twenty-three miles from the capital city, he called approach control with his deepest, in-complete-charge voice. Earlier, the en-route controller had mentioned something about weather. But he didn’t need any holding delays. And, he realized, he didn’t have enough fuel for a missed approach or flight to an alternate field. This one had to count.