W. Griffin - The shooters

"He said he thought it would be just the place for Charley to go when his aide tour was up. I told him I didn't think that with as little time as Charley had-either total hours or in the Army-they'd take him. He said what he was thinking of doing was sending Charley over here for Blue Flight transition into the King Air-which he already knew how to fly-and what could be done while he was here to train him in something else, something that would appeal to the 160th?

"He said he knew two people who were going to have a quiet word in the ear of whoever selected people for the 160th saying that they'd flown with him in combat, and thought he could make it in the 160th. Then he pointed to me and him.

"And he said, 'If I hear you told him, or even if he finds out about this, I will shoot you in both knees with a.22 hollow-point.'" Kowalski laughed. "McNab really likes Charley. They're two of a kind."

"So what are you doing for him here?" Prentiss asked.

"If it's got wings or rotary blades, by the time I send him back to Bragg, he will be checked out in it as pilot-in-command," Kowalski said. "I've even checked him out in stuff the Aviation Board has for testing that the Army hasn't even bought yet."

"How do you get away with that?" Prentiss asked.

"I'm the vice president of the Instrument Examiner Board and the training scheduler for Blue Flight," Kowalski said. "Very few people ask me why I'm doing something. And a lot of people owe me favors. Like I figure I owe Charley several big ones."

Prentiss nodded

"Thanks, Pete," he said.

"This is the favor you wanted? Telling you about Charley?"

"Yeah. And now I need one more. You going home from here?"

"Yeah," Kowalski said.

"How about dropping Miss Wilson at Colonel Gremmier's quarters? I have the feeling she'd rather be with anyone but me right now."

Kowalski looked at the girl, then back at Prentiss.

"You going to explain that?" Kowalski said.

"You don't want to know, Pete."

"Yeah, sure. Gremmier's house is right on my way."

[-VI-] 2002 Red Cloud Road

Fort Rucker, Alabama 1955 6 February 1992 "These are really wonderful photos," Juan Fernando Castillo said. He glanced up from the thick photo album on the coffee table in the Wilsons' living room and met Brigadier General Harold F. Wilson's eyes.

"They mean a lot to me, Don Fernando," the general said.

The last snapshot that Don Fernando was looking at was a five-by-seven color photograph of Second Lieutenant Harold F. Wilson and WOJG Jorge A. Castillo standing by the nose of an HU-1D helicopter of the 322nd Attack Helicopter Company. Both were smiling broadly.

Don Fernando-no one had ever dared call him Don Juan, for the obvious reason-was a tall, heavyset man with a full head of dark hair. He wore a well-tailored nearly black double-breasted pin-striped suit. He looked very much like one of his grandsons, Fernando Manuel Lopez, who sat on one side of him on the Wilsons' couch, and not at all like his other grandson, Carlos Guillermo Castillo, who sat on the other side of him.

"Let me tell you what I've decided to do with those photos, Don Fernando," Wilson said. "And a good decision is a good decision, even if it is made much longer after it should have been."

"Excuse me?" Don Fernando said.

"I have decided that many of them should be hanging, suitably framed, in the Jorge Castillo Classroom Building. The first thing Monday morning, I will take them to our state-of-the-art photo lab."

"I think that's a very good idea, General," Don Fernando said.

"You're not going to stop that, are you? Calling me 'General'?"

"You have to understand, Harry," Don Fernando said, "that I never got any higher than major, and never very close to general officers."

"When Jorge and I were in 'Nam, we thought majors were God," Wilson said.

"So did we majors in Korea," Don Fernando said.

They laughed.

"I never thought majors were God, did you, Gringo?" Fernando Lopez asked Charley in a mock innocent tone.

"Fernando!" Dona Alicia Castillo said.

The wife of Don Fernando-and grandmother of Fernando Lopez and Charley Castillo-was a slight woman, her black hair heavily streaked with gray and pulled tight around her head. She wore a single strand of large pearls around her neck. Her only other jewelry consisted of two gold, miniature branch insignias-Armor and Aviation, honoring Fernando and Charley, respectively-pinned to the bosom of her simple black dress and her wedding and engagement rings.

She was an elegant, dignified, and formidable lady.

Don Fernando smiled. "My darling, Fernando's been calling him that from the moment Carlos got off the plane. What makes you think he'll stop now?"

"Actually, Fernando," Charley said, "now that I think about it, no, I never thought majors were God-like. Other comparisons, however, have occurred to me from time to time."

Dona Alicia shook her head.

"May I finish, gentlemen?" Wilson asked. "As I was saying, I will order that they be copied with great care, enlarged, and three copies made of each. You should have your complete set in San Antonio by Friday."

"Oh, my God, you don't have to do that," Don Fernando said.

"Oh, yes, I do," Wilson said. "I'm only sorry that I didn't…"

"What happened, happened," Don Fernando said. "You tried."

"And our number is unlisted," Dona Alicia said. "You couldn't be expected to find someone who isn't in the book."

"My wife and I were deeply touched by your letter," Don Fernando said.

"Yes, we were, Harry," Dona Alicia said. "It was heartfelt. And then the maid threw it out before I could reply. Things happened that kept us from getting together before this. I'm just so glad it finally happened."

"General," Castillo said, "may I ask a question?"

"Of course, Charley."

"Sir, aren't you a little concerned that somebody might recognize the second lieutenant standing next to my father?"

"Yes, I am. But I don't see what I can do about that, do you?"

"I don't understand," Dona Alicia said.

"For what it's worth, General, I hope a lot of people do," Castillo said.

The general didn't reply.

"Thank you, Charley," Mrs. Bethany Wilson said. "And so do I."

"I have hanging in my office," Don Fernando said, "Jorge's medal and a photograph, a terrible one taken when he graduated from flight school. I will replace the photograph with this one."

"That's a great idea," Charley said.

Dona Alicia asked, "What about-would this be possible?-getting a photo of the plaque on that building to put beside it? Or perhaps having a replica made for the same purpose?"

"Abuela," Charley said. "Trust me. That's a lousy idea."

"Why is it a lousy idea?"

"The gringo's right, Abuela," Fernando said. "Just the photo. The photo's a great idea."

"Don't call Carlos that," Dona Alicia said, but then she let the matter drop.

[-VII-]

Room 202

The Daleville Inn

Daleville, Alabama 1920 8 February 1992 Dripping water, Charley Castillo was wearing a thick terry-cloth bathrobe-and not a damn thing else-when he went to answer his door. The somewhat sour-toned chime had been bonging steadily-amid the downpour drumming on the roof-since before he had stepped out from the shower.

There's no telling how long it's been bonging like that.

Either the motel is on fire or some sonofabitch has stuck a toothpick in the button.

Or, more likely, it's Pete Kowalski with the wonderful news that he's got his hands on an Apache and we can get in a couple of hours airborne tonight.

And my ass is dragging.

It was instead Miss Beth Wilson.

It was one of the rare occasions where he found himself momentarily speechless.

But then his mouth went on autopilot.

"I can't believe that you have the gall to show up here," he said, paraphrasing her greeting to him when he and Miller had first arrived at Quarters Two.