Commandant of the Marine Corps
General James Conway.
In the recent past, the American presence at the Paris Air Show was distinctly subdued, a casualty of what you might call the Chirac-Rumsfeld era of Franco-American relations. This year the place is crawling with Americans. On my way to see the introductory address from the American ambassador, I am instead swept away in a sea of green uniforms. It's the entourage of the Commandant of the Marine Corps, General James Conway, comprising at least two colonels, one brigadier general, the Sgt Major of the Marine Corps Carlton Kent, and the first lady of the Marine Corps Mrs. Conway. I manage to compliment the charming Mrs. Conway for her beautiful home at the Marine Barracks at 8th and I in Washington, D.C. (which I was lucky enough to have toured a week ago). It's the oldest continually inhabited house in the capital, chock full of portraits of former Commandants and priceless antiques. She receives me warmly and advises me to come back any time. Alas, I've now missed the ambassador's press conference, but at the Paris Air Show it's impossible to find yourself with nothing to do. I only make it about 10 yards when I am surrounded by more military brass than I have ever seen in my life (including the just-departed contingent of Marines). The glare off the stars on these top-ranking officers is almost blinding. In front of me are at least five Chinese generals who don't look too upset at being subjected to my flash photography.
Red brass.
Behind them I find some of our NATO friends from the Italian navy. A short walk further on are the first U.S. Army officers I've seen. When I ask a colonel what the Army is doing here I find out this group is actually on the staff of the Joint Chiefs and thus unable to answer my question. With him is U.S. Air Force Lt General Jeffrey B. Kohler, director of the Defense Security Cooperation Agency (they oversee U.S. foreign military sales). The list goes on, and with so many countries and services present, identifying uniforms and testing foreign military officers' language skills quickly becomes a game of trivial pursuit. But one last group of officers catches my eye. I observe a group of Italian pilots in flight suits browsing a gift stand. They affirm the universal reputation of pilots and bring it to an entirely new level with side-burns longer than Elvis and stylish designer sunglasses, while one even sports a "soul patch" under his lip. I can't say I'm a big fan of the soul patch, but perhaps I should take a fashion cue from the cream of the Italian air force before an upcoming trip to Rome. Then again, the Marines looked much sharper...but again my train of thought is interrupted--my shoulder is aching, time for another croissant break.
The stylish airmen of the Italian Air Force.