Off the dime.

SGT B. of The Gun Line had been pretty quiet recently, so the other night I visited his site to see what he’d been up to, and to see what his collection of commenters had to say about his piping. While browsing the comments, I came across a familiar name: Huntress.

Huntress was the callsign of the AWACS bird patrolling off the East Coast. I’d worked a couple of joint ops with the Eye-in-the-Sky crews during the eighties and nineties, and, wondering if Huntress might be a new milblog started by an old associate, I stopped by.

Whoops. Entirely too pastel for a milblog, even an Air Force one. Blogger chick, I thought, then started to read the post I’d bumped into.

I was dead wrong. Not a blogger chick, a Lady.

And the Lady was hurt--she’d just lost a friend.

Stream of consciousness. Sadness, anger, grief. Outright misery. And a kick in the butt that finally got me to do this…

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I’d like you, my new friends, to take a short walk with me to meet some of my old friends. They’re waiting for us at Fiddler’s Green. This way. I’ll talk as we go, okay?

Now, for the benefit of you denizens and visitors who aren’t quite sure what--or where--Fiddler’s Green is, I’ll give you a quick briefing. Fiddler’s Green is a waypoint, a rest halt for us military types who have stepped out of the Dance and started a longer journey.

It’s a place where we can kick back and have a last beer or two before continuing to our final assignment--The Proprietor set it up as kind of a decompression chamber for us uniformed types after we’ve passed through the various hells…

And, since Fiddler’s Green serves only beer, and we’re only visiting, The Proprietor has allowed me to drag the ‘rita-matic along for the Ladies.

Oooop--forgot to mention that General Order #1 is different here: No Tears. Mouring time is over--this is a party, not a weep-fest.

Heh. We’re there already. Toldja it was a short walk.

See those low tables under the trees? The kids wearing those two patches? Well, mostly kids…and a couple of older guys who only got here ‘bout a month ago…

Please click on Extended Entry to continue...

Pilots. Crewchiefs. Doorgunners.

My friends from a long time ago.

I flew with each of them...

Ladies and Gentlemen, Visitors and Denizens—new friends, I present to you, my old friends:

WO1 Paul Anderson

CW2 Jim Thompson

Jake! Scout! Muffy! Drag that ‘rita-matic over here! KC—bring the cups!

Okay, I’m gonna pull up a beer and go trade war stories. Lots of spare chairs, guys...and we're only visiting...

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Thanks, John.

Pilot graphic courtesy of Walt Sharpes, who's good at that stuff.
And drop in to visit Huntress. She's one of the Good Guys, too...