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Office of the Commanding General
United States Army Central Command
MacDill Air Force Base
Tampa, Florida
1710 8 February 2007
By the time of the First Desert War, Allan Naylor was a well-respected major general, obviously destined for greater responsibility and the rank that would come with it. He had been selected to be General H. Norman Schwarzkopf’s J-3, the Joint Staff’s operations officer.
It was the J-3’s responsibility to know what assets—usually meaning which units—were available to his general, and lists were prepared and updated daily that showed the names of the units and of their commanding officers.
One day, as they prepared to strike at Iraqi forces, Naylor had noticed on that day’s list, under NEWLY ARRIVED IN THEATRE, the 2303rd Civil Government Detachment.
Lieutenant Colonel Bruce J. McNab was listed as the commanding officer.
Naylor felt a little sorry for McNab for several reasons, including that lieutenant colonel was a pretty junior rank for those who had graduated from the Point, and that command of a civil government detachment was not a highway to promotion. But Naylor also had decided that the lowly status was almost certainly Scotty McNab’s own fault. He had always been a troublemaker. And Naylor had heard somewhere and some time ago that McNab had gone into Special Forces—another dead end, usually, for those seeking high rank—and this meant that McNab had somehow screwed up that career, too, the proof being that he now held only the rank of a light bird and was commanding a civil government detachment.
Two days later, the list, under CHANGES, noted: “Change McNab, Bruce J. LTC Inf 2303 CivGovDet to COL, no change in duties.”
Naylor had thought that McNab had been lucky the Desert War had come along. Now he would be able to retire as a full bird colonel.
And then the shooting war began, and Major General Naylor gave no further thought to Colonel McNab.
Two days after that, Naylor learned from the public relations officer that in the very opening hours of the active war, the co-pilot of one of the Apache attack helicopters sent in to destroy Iraqi radar and other facilities had performed these duties with extraordinary skill and valor.
The Apache had been struck by Iraqi fire, which wounded both the pilot and co-pilot, blinding the former. A lesser man than the co-pilot would have landed the Apache and waited for help. This one, in the belief the pilot would die unless he got prompt medical attention, flew the battered, smoking, shuddering Apache more than a hundred miles back across the desert to friendly lines, ignoring the wounds he had himself received, and the enormous risk to his own life.
“The G-One, General,” the public relations officer said to Naylor, “has approved the Impact Award of the Distinguished Flying Cross for this officer. Can General Schwarzkopf find time to make the presentation personally?”
“Why is that important?”
“The public r
elations aspect of this, General Naylor, is enormous. Once we release this story—especially with General Schwarzkopf personally making the award—it will be on the front page of every newspaper in America.”
“Why enormous?”
“The co-pilot is a twenty-one-year-old second lieutenant, General. He just got out of West Point. And there’s more, General, much more!”
The first thing General Naylor thought was: Then Charley Castillo probably knows him. He also just got out of the Point.
That was immediately followed by: What the hell is a twenty-one-year-old second lieutenant months out of Hudson High doing flying an Apache over here?
“What more?” Naylor had asked.
“This kid’s father won the Medal of Honor in Vietnam, General, flying a Huey helicopter.”
“Colonel, you don’t win the Medal of Honor. You receive, are a recipient of, the Medal of Honor,” Naylor corrected him in a Pavlovian reaction, and then said, “Let me see that thing.”
The name of the officer who had performed so heroically was Second Lieutenant Carlos G. Castillo.
“Where is this officer?” he asked softly.
“In your outer office, sir.”
“Get him in here,” Naylor ordered.
