As soon as we sit down, General Mark Milley, the recently retired chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, wants to “establish boundaries” — something his daughter taught him was important. I explain that we will discuss geopolitics and security, but caution that our lunch could meander in odd ways. Given that Milley served as the top military adviser to President Donald Trump, he is no stranger to unorthodox moves. In his 44 years in uniform, the four-star officer saw his share of action overseas. But the most tumultuous period of his career was in Washington when he served as chairman for the final 16 months of Trump’s presidency.  One flashpoint came when Milley let himself become a prop in a political stunt that Trump pulled in June 2020. Dressed in military fatigues, he joined the president for the first part of an infamous walk to a church near the White House — a piece of theatre that Trump intended as a response to the Black Lives Matter protesters who had been forcibly dispersed from the area. Milley, who had been attending a meeting in the White House, says he thought he was accompanying Trump and then secretary of defence Mark Esper to see the National Guard troops and police near the White House. Milley later conceded that his participation had created the impression that the military was involved in politics. He considered resigning, but instead issued a public apology, which infuriated Trump. Later, in 2023, Trump accused Milley of committing “treason” when he called his Chinese counterpart before the 2020 election to ease Chinese fears — detected by US intelligence — that the president might attack China. The call had actually been authorised by the defence secretary. Milley called again two days after a pro-Trump mob stormed the Capitol on January 6 2021. He later told Congress that the calls, which were joined by many officials, were intended to “prevent war between great powers”. We are meeting at Gadsby’s Tavern in Alexandria, Virginia — a fitting venue for a soldier who spent his youth visiting revolutionary war sites with his parents. It was established in 1770, five years before the US Army and six before America declared independence. When Milley arrives, he is not wearing fatigues or any army uniform. Dressed from head to toe in slightly rumpled black, the 65-year-old could be mistaken for a collarless Irish priest or — with his Boston accent — a character from Martin Scorsese’s movie The Departed.

Because cost exceeds benefit, China arguably is a rational actor, they’ve chosen not to use military force yet. That doesn’t mean that’ll hold forever

We have a window table but he thinks the room is too loud, so we retreat to another room that has the feel of a dimly lit Irish pub. I joke that he is playing to his ethnic stereotype. He finds a table and sits with his back to the wall — like a special forces soldier who wants full visibility. Midnight on September 30 2023 was the “magic moment” when Milley retired as chairman and became what his son calls a “spectator”. Being chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff is “a seven-day-a-week job, 24/7 sort of thing. You’ll get calls in the middle of night,” Milley says. “You go from that to zero, literally no calls.” 

He still has a small security team, who are hovering nearby, but no longer has a staff to schedule his life. Like many “spectators”, he now relies on Google. “We keep our calendar literally on an iPhone,” he says. “I feel much more actually in control.” 

Milley is a force of nature, built like a tank and with what one writer described as “four-star eyebrows”. As the top officer in the US military, he kept a hectic schedule that was demanding even for much younger staff. Accompanying him on foreign trips, I would jokingly ask his team what it was like working for someone who never switches off. “Best job in the navy!” one would exclaim with a smile.

He has a later engagement with his wife Hollyanne, a nurse, giving us 90 minutes. I’m worried about time because Milley has the gift of the gab, apt to lace answers with historical references that stretch back beyond the Treaty of Westphalia. I have bet a friend $5 that he will mention the 1648 treaty at lunch.

I am slightly disappointed that he’s not wearing a pair of rugged Blundstone boots, the Australian brand that he once told me that he and his wife liked. The evening before our lunch, former Australian prime minister Kevin Rudd had shown me a selfie of him and Milley showing off their RM Williams, another Aussie boot. “RM Williams are very, very nice boots,” he says, before adding with a chuckle: “I’m wearing some really old loafers.”

We’ve both ordered the “Ice Well Wedge” salad with bacon and gorgonzola. Milley picks the prime roast beef and brie sandwich, and I choose the John Gadsby Burger, which has more gorgonzola. Our salads arrive in minutes. He orders a Coke but joins me when I say I will have wine.

He goes for a Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon and I get a Californian Pinot Noir. Milley says he now has time to see his two kids and three grandkids. “I’m doing a few things, but it is a much, much different rhythm and frankly more enjoyable”. (Those things include teaching at his alma mater Princeton University and also at Georgetown University.)