Chuck S. was as good as Delta Squadron commanders go. I fancy him as the boss most well-liked by the pipe-hitters of the squadron, and yet he was still the boss, and there was never any doubt about that. He spoke French, frequently carrying on a conversation with me, a sin for which he paid for dearly because of my horrid Cajun dialect.

Chuck was just the coolest commander. He wore long hair and a mustache and talked to all the guys addressing them by their first names. He had get-togethers at his house for us where he would imbibe in the goodness of the grape, pull out a guitar and go full James Taylor on the room. Some guys thought it was uncomfortably strange, but I just winked at them as we belted out: “Oh, I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen raaaiiinnn!

Chuck also sang solo “How Great Thou Art” magnificently at the funerals of the brothers who died. Chuck was the coolest.

Urban combat was a skill that our force was in a constant process to improve. We had logistics personnel out all the time searching for target subjects in major U.S. cities. It was practice to send a pipe-hitter as a tactical consultant to the target selection process. Ricardo was selected for such a task by the Boss, a thing he was not too happy about. The fact was that Ricardo was just shy about speaking in certain forums: