Come Saturday Morning...

Hmmmmm--lessee what we’ve got in the box o’ ‘trons…

[*rummage*] [*rummage*] [*snap-crackle-pop*]

Hmmmpf. Did a TINS already. Haven’t done a Boz in a while…

[*peers back downweek*] Heh. Got a li’l religion, there…yeah, why not?

[*rummage*] [*blows dust off ‘trons*]

Perfect.

I’ve always gotten along well with our various chaplains over the last thirty-plus-years, although I have a suspicion that one or two thought I’d been inflicted on them as a test of their faith…

MAJ Ray ___, our chaplain in Boz, and I got along great--we were both Calvin and Hobbes fans and he was the only guy I’d ever met who could drink more coffee than I can and not go into terminal twitches.

His coffee mug was an extension of his left hand. It held enough coffee to keep Rhode Island awake for a week.

Ray was in the habit of dropping in to check the Flight Status board to see who was already up and who was scheduled to launch later, so he could personalize the Insurance Prayers, then he’d chat for a bit and bug me about hopping on the Butmir [the military airfield serving Sarajevo] Shuttle. If I was busy, he’d leave his mug on the counter to indicate he’d be back and then pop next door to see what the grunts were up to. One Friday morning, he dropped in, listened to me chatting with the Ops NCOIC in Taszar, put his coffee mug on the counter and wandered off.

Next morning, one of the ‘Hawk drivers came in for his briefing and remarked, “What’d ya do, win a trophy?”

Chappy Ray’s mug. Still on the counter.

[*light bulb*] Trophy.

[*light bulb*] The CG had just presented the Commander’s Cup to one of the flag football teams.

[*light bulb*] Heh. The Chaplain’s Cup.

I opened up my dot-mil, plugged in some addresses and composed the following:

-----Original Message-----
From: Tuttle, William CW4
Sent: Saturday, October 13, 2001 10:59 AM
To: DL-COMANCHE/CONNOR
Cc:
Subject: Chaplain's Cup Award

ALCON

The prestigious "Camp Comanche Chaplain's Cup" (an award regarded in some circles as being on a more exalted plane than the Commander's Cup) was presented to the TF Pegasus Flight Operations Section in a simple ceremony conducted yesterday morning. The Cup, according to tradition, was constructed at some time during the preceding millenium by a highly-trained artisan of the Aladdin Corporation in Nashville, Tennessee, who (some say miraculously) used only a single piece of extruded polymeric material in its creation--it did not evolve, contrary to popular belief.

The Cup, which is capable of containing the contents of an entire urn of DFAC coffee (regular or strong), is a simple clerical black in overall appearance, with a central motif which, also according to tradition, is an accurate rendition of the pattern of the cloak issued to St. Martin of Tours, patron saint of soldiers deployed to chilly climates. The Cup possesses the extraordinary capability of recognizing the temperature of whatever substance is placed within its central receptacle and of sustaining the appropriate level of molecular activity to maintain that exact temperature for an indeterminate, albeit considerable, length of time--how an apparently inanimate object possesses the ability to accomplish such a feat remains a mystery to this day.

The Cup was presented to Flight Ops personnel in recognition of:
· their fortitude in enduring random bursts of static and miscellaneous side-lobe interference caused by demonic possession of certain FM radio frequencies and
· having a collective patience of saintly caliber in dealing with questions such as, "Is there a flight going to Butmir tomorrow and am I on it?", "Is that local time or Zulu?" and "Is there a helipad behind the PX at Eagle?"

The Cup, with its tastefully-understated Post-It Note inscription, will remain on display in Flight Ops until such time as another TF Pegasus section can surpass the exceptionally high standards achieved by Flight Ops or the Chaplain remembers where he left it.

[*click*] Send.

Responses ranged from
“Never, ever overload my Inbox with anything like this ever again. Ever.”
(Our Maintenance Officer)

to

“See me. ASAP.”
(The Flight Surgeon)

to

Mr. Tuttle,

I will be over later this afternoon. Thanks for the laugh.

Ray

Knowing full well that all of MND-North would be on tenterhooks wondering about the fate of the Chaplain’s Cup, I toggled Reply All and typed:

Yea, brethren, upon this date there did appear unto the OIC of the Flight Operations a minion of the Lord, and in his appearance, the minion was like unto that of the Chaplain; like that of the Chaplain was the appearance of the minion of the Lord.

And the minion appeared before the OIC and spake thusly unto him, saying, "Hi, Chief--wherefore resteth the Cup which was given into thy charge?" And the OIC replied to the minion of the Lord, "Behold! Here it is before thee; the Cup resteth before thee upon this slab of polished wood which hath been hewn from the oak-tree."

And the minion of the Lord spake again unto the OIC, saying, "This is indeed the Cup; hast thou then introduced any abominations therein?" And the OIC replied to the minion of the Lord, saying, "Full well thou knowest, o minion, that I am of an age which is an age beyond the ages of the thirtysomethings, and so may not abide such things as is the drink of the thirtysomethings; decaf and café latté are as naught within my sight. Verily, I say unto thee that here before thee upon this slab of polished wood which hath been hewn from the oak-tree, the Cup resteth pristine, as it was when first it appeared unto me."

And the minion of the Lord spake yet a third time. And the third time he spake, he spake thusly, saying, "Thanks, Chief. The Cup is now required of thee, that it may resume providing sustenance and comfort unto me." And the minion of the Lord took up the Cup into his right hand; with his right hand he took up the Cup. And, as the minion of the Lord took up the Cup into his right hand, he withdrew from the sight of the OIC.

And, as the minion of the Lord withdrew from the sight of the OIC, the minion of the Lord spake yet a fourth time, saying, "By the way, got anything going to Butmir tomorrow?"

[*click*] Send