They don’t have to look like killers. We so often think all professional soldiers should look like John Wayne. A good and serious man, the Duke, but he got no closer to combat operations than the offensive line of USC’s football team back in the 1930s. I mean, nobody will ever mistake Chuck Horner for Duke Wayne. This transplanted Iowa farm boy is so laid back that one sometimes wants to stick a needle in his arm to make sure he’s still alive, but then you remember that we don’t select fighter pilots or flag officers off park benches, and you look a little closer and try to penetrate the disguise. What’s the difference between a fighter pilot and an ape? You don’t entrust an ape with the safety of your country.

This overage farm boy has the eyesight of a gyrfalcon, and he can play two pianos at the same time. As a team member of Lockheed-Martin, he still has access to his beloved F-16. Along the way, he’s picked up a few long tonnes of knowledge, and more than that, he’s got a place inside his brain where he’s systematized the science and application of air power in the same way that Isaac Newton once organized physics. It’s not just longer-range artillery. It’s a way to attack an enemy systematically—all over, all at the same time. And you can do real harm that way. Not just punching him in the nose. Not just twisting his arm. Going after every square inch at once: Hi, there, you are now at war, hope you enjoy the ride.

Horner also, to quote John Paul Jones, has something a professional officer must have: “the nicest sense of personal honor.” Right and wrong are identifiable in Chuck’s universe, and separate. In a community where a man’s word is his life, Chuck Horner’s word is found in gold lettering on an adamantine wall of granite. He is a man of the American Midwest, and he has all the values and qualities one associates with such an origin: honesty, fair play, respect for others who may look or talk a little differently. He is the shrewdest of observers, and he’s a man who enjoyed being a Wild Weasel, a fighter jock tasked to finding and killing SAM sites—that is, eliminating the people and things whose job it was to eliminate him. Weaseldom was dangerous. Chuck Horner enjoyed the game.