Memories From The Good Old Days!
If you have any you would like to share, let us know about them.

Last modified  31 July, 2013


Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, and done a a hundred things
You have not dreamed of -- Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence.  Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

                                                 By John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

Click here to see the:


'I hope there's a place, way up In the sky,
Where pilots can go, when they have to die.
A place where a guy can buy a cold beer
For a friend and a comrade, whose memory is dear;

A place where no doctor or lawyer can tread ,
Nor a management type would ere be caught dead;
Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke;
The kind of a place where a lady could go
And feel safe and protected, by the men she would know.

There must be a place where old pilots go,
When their paining is finished, and their airspeed gets low,
Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young,
And songs about flying and dying are sung,
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd flown west before,
And they'd call out your name, as you came through the door.
Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad,
And relate to the others, "He was quite a good lad!"

And then through the mist, you'd spot an old guy
You had not seen in years, though he taught you to fly.
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear;
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm pleased that you're here."
"For this is the place where true flyers come,"
"When their journey is over, and the war has been won."
"They've come here at' last to be safe and alone"
"From the government clerks and the management clone,"
"Politicians and lawyers, the Feds and the noise,"
"Where all hours are happy, and these good ole boys"
"Can relax with a cool one, and a well deserved rest;"
"This is heaven, my son You've passed your last test!"

Author Unknown

(A Soldier Died Today)
by A. Lawrence Vaincourt

He was getting  old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.

And tho' sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer for old Bill has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer, for a soldier died today.

He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.
Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,
And the world won't note his passing, though a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell their whole life stories, from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
A guy who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who, in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?

A politician's stipend and the style in which he lives
             Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
  Is paid off with a medal and perhaps, a pension small.

It's so easy to forget them for it was so long ago,
That the old Bills of our Country went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our Country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,
Would you want a politician with his ever-shifting stand?
Or would you prefer a soldier, who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin and Country and would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor while he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,
Our Country is in mourning, for a soldier died today.

1985 A. Lawrence Vaincourt

To read a nice poem by John F. Dinges Click here

Do you remember the kamikaze  attack on ships carrying members of the 345th Bomb Group?    To read a letter written by the Master of the S/S Morrison R. Waite.Click HereThis gives a very good description of the attack, and damage reports.

Some comments from Chester Buckner, who shared many photo's with us.  Thanks Chester !!

While in Clark Field, Filipinos from San Marcelino would come to the base to work. This is explained in the "WARPATH". The men at the base benefited by having young women come into the area to collect clothes to take back to San Marcelino to wash. The men in our tent agreed to treat them like we would want our sisters to be treated. This paid off; our trousers came back with creases. Was this done for everyone in the base? Never checked it out.

One day we were invited to San Marcelino for a fiesta. There was nothing left to celebrate, but someone had a birthday. We followed a group of women but were told not to follow too close. The "old women" would not like it. We dropped back a pace of ten to twenty yards or so. We were told later that the "old women" had told them when the Japanese came, to make themselves as ugly and ragged looking as possible. This explains the number of younger women that were in the village.

The home was built on poles to provide shelter underneath for the animals. Some of us climbed the steps into Narding's home. We noticed a little girl walking behind us with a dust cloth under her feet to sweep the dirt we brought in through the cracks in the floor. We took our boots off. The floor appeared to be dark mahogany with up to one-half inch space between the boards. The occupants of the house was an aunt and uncle, Narding, a brother, and a younger sister. The photos numbered 1 and 2 were taken before we went to the fiesta. These were very nice people.

Here are some items you may remember!
Click the image to get a larger one.

Escorting them in.jpg
Squadron Sign.jpg
Shipping Attack.jpg
B25 on a bomb run
Japanese Plane.jpg
japanese plane.jpg
japanese bomber.jpg
R&R Rented House.jpg
Apache Playhouse.jpg
San Marcelino PI friends.jpg
San Marcelino PI with friends.jpt
New Guinea Parking area.jpg
She's Ready for a Raid.jpg
Ok What Broke.jpg
Night Work.jpg
Dirty Dora.jpg
Parrot Beak.jpg
Bob Hope.jpg
Franis Peterson.jpg
Tondelayo story


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