Colonel Edmonds had a sudden, unpleasant thought, which he quickly suppressed:
Jesus Christ, is he entitled to all that stuff?
Of course he is. He's a West Pointer. He wouldn't wear anything to which he was not entitled.
"Much better, Lieutenant," Colonel Edmonds said. "And now we'd better get going. We don't want to keep the general waiting, do we?"
The story appeared on the front page of The Army Flier two days later, which was a Friday. It included a photograph of Lieutenant Castillo and the Fort Rucker commander standing as if reading what was cast into a bronze plaque mounted on the wall beside the main door to the WOJG Jorge A. Castillo Classroom Building of the Army Aviation School.
LIVING TRADITION
By LTC F. Mason Edmonds
Information Officer Fort Rucker, Al., and the Army Aviation Center Major General Charles M. Augustus, Jr. (right), Commanding General of Fort Rucker and the Army Aviation Center and 1LT Carlos G. Castillo examine the dedication plaque of the WOJG Jorge A. Castillo Classroom Building at the Army Aviation School.
WOJG Castillo, 1LT Castillo's father, was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, the nation's highest award for gallantry, in the Vietnam War. He was killed when his HU-1D helicopter was struck by enemy fire and exploded on 5 April 1971 during Operation Lam Sol 719. He was on his fifty-second rescue mission of downed fellow Army Aviators in a thirty-six-hour period when he was killed, and was flying despite his having suffered both painful burns and shrapnel wounds. The HU-1D in which he died was the fourth helicopter he flew during this period, the others having been rendered un-airworthy by enemy fire.
His sadly prophetic last words were to his co-pilot, 2LT H. F. Wilson, as he ordered him out of the helicopter in which twenty minutes later he made the supreme sacrifice: "Get out, Lieutenant. There's no point in both of us getting killed."
Those heroic words are cast into the plaque MG Augustus, Jr., and 1LT Castillo are examining.
Following in his father's footsteps, 1LT Castillo became an Army Aviator after his graduation from the United States Military Academy at West Point.
The opening hours of the Desert War saw him flying deep inside enemy lines as co-pilot of an AH-64B Apache attack helicopter charged with destroying Iraqi antiaircraft radar facilities.
The Apache was struck by enemy fire, seriously wounding the pilot and destroying the helicopter's windshield and navigation equipment.
Despite his own wounds, 1LT Castillo took command of the badly damaged helicopter and flew it more than 100 miles to safety. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for this action.
Now a flying aide-de-camp to a general officer, 1LT Castillo returned to the Aviation School for transition training to qualify him as a pilot of the C-12 Huron.
LT Castillo is the grandson of Mr. and Mrs. J. F. Castillo of San Antonio, Texas. (U.S. Army Photograph by CPL Roger Marshutz)
[-II-]
Room 202
The Daleville Inn
Daleville, Alabama 1625 5 February 1992 The door to Room 202 was opened by a six-foot-two, two-hundred-twenty-pound, very black young man in a gray tattered West Point sweatshirt. He was holding a bottle of Coors beer and looking visibly surprised to see two crisply uniformed officers-one of them a brigadier general-standing outside the door.
"May I help the general, sir?" he asked after a moment's hesitation.
"Dick, we're looking for Lieutenant Castillo," the other officer, a captain wearing aide-de-camp's insignia, said.
He could have been the general's son. Both were tall, slim, and erect. The general's hair was starting to gray, but that was really the only significant physical difference between them.
"He's in the shower," the huge young black man said.
"You know each other?" the general asked.
"Yes, sir. We were at the Point together," the captain said.
"I'd really like to see Lieutenant Castillo," the general said to the huge young black man.
"Yes, sir," he replied, and opening the door all the way, added, "Would the general like to come in, sir? I'm sure he won't be long."
"Thank you," the general said, and entered the motel suite.
"General Wilson," the captain said, "this is Lieutenant H. Richard Miller, Jr."
"How do you do, Lieutenant?" General Wilson said. "You're Dick Miller's son?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tom, General Miller and I toured scenic Panama together a couple of years ago," Wilson said, then asked Miller, "How is your dad?"
"Happy, sir. He just got his second star."
"I saw that. Please pass on my regards."
"Yes, sir. I'll do that."
"You're assigned here, are you?"
"Yes, sir. I just started Apache school."
"Meaning you were one of the top three in your basic flight course. Congratulations. Your father must be proud of you."
"Actually, sir, as the general probably already knows, my father is not at all sure Army Aviation is here to stay."
"Yes, I know," Wilson said, smiling. "He's mentioned that once or twice."
Miller held up his bottle of beer. "Sir, would it be appropriate for me to offer the general a beer? Or something stronger?"
He immediately saw on the captain's face that it was not appropriate.
After a moment's hesitation, however, the general said, "I would really like a drink, if that's possible."
Miller then saw genuine surprise on the captain's face.
"Very possible, sir," Miller said. He gestured at a wet bar. "Would the general prefer bourbon or scotch or gin…"
"Scotch would do nicely," Wilson said. "Neat."
"Yes, sir."
"You can have one, too, Tom," Wilson added. "And I would feel better if you did."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. The same, Dick, please."
Lieutenant C. G. Castillo, wearing only a towel, came into the living room as General Wilson was about to take a sip of his scotch. Wilson looked at him for a long moment, then took a healthy swallow.
"Sir," Miller said, "this is Lieutenant C. G. Castillo."
"I'm Harry Wilson," the general said.
"Yes, sir," Castillo said. It was obvious the name meant nothing to him. "Is there something I can do for the general, sir?"
"I'm here to straighten something out, Lieutenant," General Wilson said.
"Sir?"
"I was your father's copilot," General Wilson said.
"Jesus Christ!" Castillo blurted.
"Until I saw the story in The Army Flier right after lunch," General Wilson said, "I didn't even know you existed. It took us this long to find you. The housing office had never heard of you, and Blue Flight had shut down for the weekend."
Castillo looked at him but didn't speak.
"What your father said," General Wilson said, "just before he took off…that day…was, 'Get the fuck out, Harry. The way you're shaking, you're going to get both of us killed.'"
Castillo still didn't reply.
"Not what it says on that plaque," General Wilson added softly. "So I got out, and he lifted off."
He paused, then went on: "I've been waiting-what is it, twenty-two years, twenty-three?-to tell somebody besides my wife what Jorge…your father…really said that day."
"Sonofabitch!" Miller said softly.
"I think, under the circumstances," Castillo finally said, obviously making an effort to control his voice, "that a small libation is in order."
He walked to the bar, splashed scotch into a glass, and took a healthy swallow.
"Sir," Castillo then said, "I presume Lieutenant Miller has introduced himself?"