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Or is he grimacing as he squints in the bright sunlight? Castillo thought.
"When General McNab called to tell me you were coming, I was on the fifteenth hole with General Wilson. I was once his aide, so I knew about his relationship with your father."
"I haven't seen General Wilson for several years," Castillo said. "He retired to Phoenix, I believe."
"That's right," General Crenshaw said.
"And I haven't seen Richardson for…I don't remember the last time I saw him."
"Well, he's my very competent assistant G-3, which makes him just the man to get you whatever you came for. Would that be all right with you?"
"Yes, sir. That would be fine. Thank you."
"And this gentleman is?" Crenshaw asked.
"My communicator, sir. Sergeant First Class Neidermeyer. He has to be close to me, so I was going to introduce him as Mister Neidermeyer and smuggle him in a BOQ with me. But I'm a little tired of bending the truth. So I guess it's the Daleville Inn."
Crenshaw offered his hand to Neidermeyer.
"Welcome to Fort Rucker, Mr. Neidermeyer," he said. "I hope you and Colonel Castillo find the Magnolia House comfortable."
Hearing the name Magnolia House brought back fond memories for Castillo. More than a decade ago, his grandparents had stayed in the World War II-era frame housing that had been converted to a cottage for transient VIPs.
"Thank you, sir," Castillo said.
Castillo, Crenshaw, and Neidermeyer started to walk across the tarmac. Two neat young sergeants trotted out to them and offered to take their luggage. Neidermeyer would not part with the radio suitcase.
When Castillo and Neidermeyer got close to the building, General Wilson spread his arms wide.
"How are you, Charley?" he called, and wrapped him in a bear hug.
When he let him go, he said, "Bethany talked yesterday to your grandmother, who told her you had made a couple of flying trips to the Double-Bar-C but, as usual, she had no idea where you were. So I'm really glad to see you."
"I've been moving around a lot," Castillo said. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, we came to see Beth and Randy and the grandchildren. Rucker's hot, but not as hot as Phoenix, and I do like to play golf."
"How is Beth?" Castillo asked, politely, as he put out his hand to Richardson.
"Well, thank you," Richardson said without emotion.
What do I call him?
Randolph? Randy?
"Good to see you, Randy."
"Likewise."
"Your grandmother," General Wilson went on, "told us your promotion finally came through. Congratulations."
"They were scraping the bottom of the barrel," Castillo said. "This is Jamie Neidermeyer, my communicator. Jamie, General Wilson flew with my father in Vietnam. And this is Colonel Richardson. We were classmates at West Point."
They shook hands.
It was fairly obvious from Neidermeyer's "how do you do, sirs" as well as his general appearance that he was military. But Richardson either didn't pick up the significance of his not being identified by rank or didn't want to.
"You're in the service, Neidermeyer?"
