"No, you won't," Castillo said sharply.
"You sure, Charley?" Miller asked.
"Goddamn sure," Castillo said.
"'Charley'?" General Wilson said. "I thought I read your name was Carlos."
"Yes, sir, it is. But people call me Charley."
"Your…dad…made me call him Hor-hay," Wilson said. "Not George. He said he was a wetback and proud of it, and wanted to be called Hor-hay."
"Sir, I think he was pulling your chain," Castillo said. "From what I've learned of my father, he was proud of being a Texican. Not a wetback."
"A Texican?"
Castillo nodded. "Yes, sir. A Texan with long-ago Mexican roots. A wetback is somebody who came across the border yesterday."
"No offense intended, Lieutenant."
"None taken, sir," Castillo said. "Sir, how long did you fly with my father?"
Wilson looked around the room, then took a seat on the couch and sipped at his drink.
"About three months," Wilson said. "We arrived in-country the same day. I was fresh out of West Point, and here he was an old-timer; he'd done a six-months tour in Germany before they shipped him to Vietnam. They put us together, with him in the right seat because he had more time. He took me under his wing-he was a really good pilot-and taught me the things the Aviation School didn't teach. We shared a hootch." He paused a moment in thought, then finished, "Became close friends, although he warned me that that wasn't smart."
"An old-timer?" Castillo said. "He was nineteen when he was killed. Christ, I'm twenty-two."
"I was twenty-two, too," Wilson said softly.
"A friend of mine told me there were a lot of teenaged Huey pilots in Vietnam," Castillo said.
"There were," Wilson said, then added, "I can't understand why he never mentioned you. As I said, I had no idea you existed. Until today."
"He didn't know about me," Castillo said. "He was killed before I was born. I don't think he even knew my mother was pregnant."
"I realize this may sound selfish, Lieutenant-I realize doing so would probably open old wounds-but I'd like to go see your mother."
"May I ask why you would want to do that, si
r?" Castillo asked.
"Well, first I'd like to apologize for not looking her up when I came home. And I'd like her to know that I know I'm alive because of your father. If he hadn't told me to…'get the fuck out, Harry'…both of us would have died when that chopper blew up."
"My mother died ten years ago, sir," Castillo said.
"I'm sorry," Wilson said. "I should have picked that up from the story in The Army Flier. It mentioned only your grandparents."
"Yes, sir. They raised me. I know they'd like to talk to you, sir. Would you be willing to do that?"
"Of course I would. I'd be honored."
"Well, let me set that up," Castillo said. "Then I'll put my pants on."
He walked to the telephone on the wet bar and punched in a number from memory.
There followed a brief exchange in Spanish, then Castillo held out the telephone to General Wilson.
"Sir, my grandfather-Juan Fernando Castillo, generally referred to as Don Fernando-would like to speak with you."