Thanks, Gail. My most sincere sympathies for the loss of your Marty.

I'm really glad that you and Mark and your Mom are
part of this. Looks like a super place to spend time. I'll try to behave, which probably means I'll draw too much attention here..haha.

Dave invited me in two days ago, and I hooked up right away, and have already seen all the site and read a substantial portion of the postings.

I haven't yet run into anyone I knew, but several are very familiar, and some of the guys we lost are most familiar to me, such as Warren, Billie Joe and Lundy. And several of the guys' names I've seen here were legends when I got there in '70.

A lot of the crewmembers visited avionics for a quick radio swap, fix of a helmet or mike cord, or an early cuppa or semi-cool soda. I think there might have been a few brews in the fridge, too.

I got this today from one of the 135th AHC guys, and had to share it:

Pope John Paul dies of old age and finds himself at
the gates of Heaven at 0300. He knocks on the gate
and a very sleepy-eyed Army Drill Sergeant opens the
gate and asks, Wadda you want?"
"I'm the recently deceased Pope and have done 63 years
of Godly works and thought I should check in here".
The Drill Sergeant checks his clipboard and says, "I
ain't got no orders for you here, just bring your
stuff and we'll sort this out in the morning".
They go to an old WW II receiving barracks, 3rd floor,
open squad bay. All the bottom bunks are taken and
all empty lockers have no doors. The Popestows his
gear under a rack and climbs into an upper bunk.
The next morning he awakens to sounds of cheering and
clapping. He goes to the window and sees a flashy
convertible coming through the Pearly Gates. The cloud
walks are lined with saints and angels cheering and
tossing confetti. On the back lid of the convertible
sits a crusty old Army Chief Warrant Officer Five
(Aviator) in dress blues, his brass glistening, a
cigar in his mouth, a bottle of Jack Daniels in one
hand, and his other arm around a voluptuous blonde
Angel with a magnificent halo.
This disturbs the Pope and he runs downstairs to the
Drill Sergeant and says, "Hey, what gives? You put me,
the Pope, with 63 years of godly deeds, in an open bay
barracks, while this CW5 Aviator who must've committed
every sin known and unknown to man is riding in a
convertible and getting a hero's welcome. How can this
be?
The Drill Sergeant calmly looks up and says, "Every
Pope makes it up here, but we ain't never had a CW5 before.

Thanks for the Welcome.
Lumpy