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"That animal of yours eats meat, right?"
"Yes, sir. He does."
When they went into house, Mrs. Bruce J. McNab was already feeding Max.
"Charley, he's adorable," she said. "And he really loves chocolate, doesn't he? That's his fourth Hershey bar."
VII
[ONE]
Cairns Army Airfield
Fort Rucker, Alabama 1530 4 September 2005 Castillo stuck his head in the cockpit of the Gulfstream V and said, "Thanks, guys."
"Any time, Colonel," the pilot, an Air Force major, said as he offered his hand.
"You've got another general meeting you, Colonel," the copilot, a young captain, said, offering his hand and then pointing out the window.
Castillo saw that the copilot was wearing an Air Force Academy ring.
Another bright and bushy-tailed young man, he thought, not unkindly, who went through the academy dreaming of soaring through the wild blue yonder in a supersonic fighter jet…and wound up in the right seat of a Gulfstream.
And who by now has realized he's lucky to be there.
Most of his classmates are probably still wingless, flying a supply room desk.
The Air Force had far more academy graduates wanting-and qualified for-flight training than the Air Force had a requirement for pilots. The bitter joke going around the Air Force was "If you really wanted to fly, you should have joined the Army. They have more aircraft than we do."
Castillo looked to where the lieutenant pointed.
Brigadier General Crenshaw, the deputy commander of Fort Rucker and the Army Aviation Center, was standing in the door of the Base Operations building with a young officer.
Oh, shit!
Last time I saw him, I said I was Secret Service.
That was-what?-just three days ago…
When Castillo turned back to the passenger compartment, he saw that the crew chief/steward had already unloaded their luggage, and Neidermeyer was going down the stair door steps cradling the radio suitcase in his arms. Max was standing in the aisle straining against his makeshift leash, which was firmly tied to a seat mount.
Untying the wire leash proved difficult, as Max
's tugging on it had really tightened the knot. Castillo finally got it undone, and allowed Max to tow him down the stair-door steps. As he did, he saw that Crenshaw had walked across the tarmac to the airplane.
He saluted as well as he could while allowing Max to make his way to the nose gear, where Max lifted his leg and broke wind. Several times. Loudly.
"Did you have to teach him to do that, Colonel?" General Crenshaw asked. "Or did it come naturally to him?"
Castillo could think of nothing to say but "Good afternoon, sir," so he said that.
"Welcome back to Fort Rucker, Colonel," Crenshaw said. "I have been reliably informed that you did in fact learn how to fly in Texas, and that there was probably a good reason you told me you were in the Secret Service."
Castillo's confusion showed on his face.
General Crenshaw smiled and nodded toward Base Operations. Two familiar faces were now standing outside the building.
One was Lieutenant General Harold F. Wilson, U.S. Army (Retired), wearing Bermuda shorts and a pink golf shirt. The other was Lieutenant Colonel Randolph Richardson, in ACUs. General Wilson waved happily. Colonel Richardson smiled.
