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"Every boy should have a dog," General Crenshaw added.
"Teaches him character," General Wilson agreed.
"A dog that size?" Lieutenant Colonel Richardson said.
"And Colonel Castillo gave one to a girl he knows in Argentina," Randy said, "a girl my age he says he wants me to meet some time."
"I would like to know what he means by twenty takeoffs and landings," Mrs. Richardson said. "Not by himself, certainly."
"What kind of an airplane?" Lieutenant Colonel Richardson said.
"A Ryan PT-22, open-cockpit tail dragger," Randy announced with a pilot's elan. "Hundred-and-sixty-horse Kinner five-cylinder radial. Cruises at about one thirty-five."
"Colonel Castillo has such an airplane?" Lieutenant Colonel Richardson inquired. "I don't think I've ever seen one."
"Uncle Fernando does," Randy said, softly stroking Goliath.
"You remember Fernando, Beth?" her father said. "Charley's cousin?"
She smiled somewhat wanly.
"You're calling this man 'Uncle Fernando'?" she said to her son.
"If he lets me fly his airplane," Randy replied matter-of-factly, "I'll call him anything he wants me to call him!"
"And what do you call Colonel Castillo?" his mother asked.
"He said that he's not my uncle so I could call him either 'sir' or 'Charley.'"
Beth exchanged a long look with her father.
"So this 'Uncle Fernando' took you for a ride in his airplane, did he?" Lieutenant Colonel Richardson inquired.
"No," Randy explained somewhat impatiently. "Colonel Castillo taught me how to fly Uncle Fernando's PT-22. I made twenty takeoffs and landings. I told you."
"And you found nothing wrong with this, Dad?" Mrs. Richardson asked.
"Not a thing," he said. "I've always thought of the Castillos as family. Haven't you?"
