Correction Appended: Feb. 5, 2010
Secretary of Defense Robert Gates flies around the world to war zones and allies, to China and Russia and Suriname, on a Cold War relic called the Doomsday Plane. Forged in the 1970s by Boeing, it was designed to stay aloft even in the midst of nuclear war. It’s an airborne Pentagon. The plane is so heavy that it needs refueling in midair on long flights. The Air Force crew aboard told me that on occasion, the fuel nozzle from the floating tankers has smashed through the pilots’ windshield like an angry space creature. It’s one of a handful of planes coated with nuclear-attack shielding and capable of emitting launch codes to all U.S. missile silos.
Just past the flight deck is a conference room outfitted with plugs and portals and a lacquered table at which the relaxed Secretary sat in jeans, loafers and a pressed button-down, on the way back home from Afghanistan and Iraq. We’d been talking about the stress of congressional hearings, the burden of sending young men and women to war, and just as our conversation was drawing to a close, he said, “I always used to tell people that Texas A&M football caused me more stress than any job I’ve ever had. And they always thought I was exaggerating.” I expressed disbelief, but he stood by the statement.
“I asked my wife one time, Why is that? And she said, ‘Because you have no control.’ ” He paused. “Here, I have a little control,” he said, tapping the plane’s conference table.
