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Some excellent weather, and an awesome video. Please get in touch if you were the aircrew today as I know there are some great images from the flights that I can get to you. Should be able to tie up with the aircraft in the video too, if you know approx times or obviously callsigns (I believe it was Shift, Rico and Brew flights). Great Work 48th FW I'll happilly make the 6 hour round trip to film/photograph you guys again, so feel free to offer any headsup in return for hopefully some great images for the squadron bar

http://m.wimp.com/losingson/

I suppose I can tell my story now... BITD (pre-9/11) in the other service, I was part of a crew doing a CH-53E static display at a hotel, for a national-level veterans service organization's annual fundraiser weekend. We flew in Saturday morning and landed in the back parking lot of the hotel, folded it, towed it around to the front parking lot, and spread it back out for the static. In the afternoon we did the fold n' tow routine back to the back parking lot for secure parking overnight, cleaned up, and joined the party. There were nearly a dozen Medal of Honor recipients in town for this event, along with CMC, the USMC Silent Drill Platoon and the USMC Color Guard, and the booze was flowing like rainwater. The stories that I remember hearing in that hotel bar were incredible (hindsight note - when in the presence of this much history, don't push it up so hard that you can't remember some of the stories later. The regret that comes later, leaves a mark on the soul that's not easily removed...); the kind of stories you literally read about in military history books, being told by the very people who made that history. Myself and the other two enlisted aircrew swine have MoH recipients buying us drinks, businessmen in the same hotel for their own agendas getting caught up in the fun and buying us drinks, drinks showing up at tables with no clue how they got there. I don't think I have ever consumed that much alcohol, before or since. At some point in the evening after the official dog & pony show was completed, some Silent Drill Platoon asshat who keeps shoving his way into conversations he wasn't invited into, decides that a coin check is warranted at the table I was at with one of my crew, one of the artillery guys in town with their M198 static, a couple LAV guys with their LAV static, and Sergeant Major Jon Cavaiani. Half a dozen shitfaced jarheads slam coins on the table and make (in)appropriate jarhead noises... and then a Medal of Honor is placed on the table. Silence in our little corner of the bar. One of the former Marines who raises a ton of money locally for this organization and several others, and insists that everyone call him "Wags", looks over at us from his spot at the bar, sees the table, and yells over the rest of the bar's noise, "Jesus Christ, Jon! You carry that thing everywhere??" SGM Cavaiani laughs, yells back "You're damn right, Daddy Wags!", stands up, and yells for the bartender to pour another round for all of us. Eventually I remember that I need to crew the helicopter (conveniently parked in the hotel's back parking lot) that is doing a flyover at the golf outing the next day, and I need to extract myself from the festivities and get some sleep. I vaguely remember doing "the pinball" down several hallways, an elevator, and at least one stairwell before I make it to my room. Through some miracle, I have the presence of mind to clean myself up, put a clean flightsuit on, pack my stuff (including the trash bags from the room), and set a wake-up call before I pass out on the bed. Sunday morning comes and I am functional, but barely. The rest of the crew isn't much better except one pilot, who didn't do the afterparty with us and is bright and cheery, and will obviously be doing all the flying. We kick the tires and light the fires with a fair-sized audience of people who have come to see our departure, after questioning us the day before on exactly how we got a CH-53E in a hotel parking lot. Pulling the gear & aux tank pins with the exhausts blasting on me nearly set me off, but I managed to keep it together on the ground. We lift and blast a quick turn around the hotel property about 100' AGL, and at this point I realize that I'm not gonna make it. Before we fired up I had put one of the room trash bags in an empty .50cal can and seat-belted it to the troopseat next to me, and I put my improvised puke bucket to good use. As we press to the golf course 5min away for the flyover, I'm rapidly filling the bag/can with dinner, God only knows how much booze, and breakfast. As we're blasting over the golf course at 100'-ish AGL and who knows how many knots, I'm frantically tying off a full trash/puke bag and getting the other one ready to receive the next wave, which is already on the way. 1/2hr later we're approaching the home 'drome, the second bag is nearly full, and I've decided the 20mm can of tiedown chains will be the next receptacle if I continue puking. Descending short final I have one last round of retching, and finally feel semi-confident that I won't be spewing uncontrollably any longer. Walking in after securing and post-flighting the aircraft, one of the puke bags breaks within tossing distance of the dumpster, and douses my lower leg and boot. Rest in Peace, Daddy Wags. Rest in Peace, Sergeant Major Cavaiani.

Spent a month there TDY in the last year. Town seems pretty legit compared to where most Air Force bases are located. Good food selection and all the amenities you could want shopping, airport, things to do outdoors, etc. You have the usual terrible southwest United States drivers to deal with (no kidding I drove past an accident scene in an intersection over half the times I left base). I think cost of living wise you can do pretty darn well on officers pay, but I am sure someone else that is stationed there can speak to it more intelligently. I am not to up on the school/housing situation if that is a major consideration. Oh and Moriarty is one of the biggest/best glider ports in the country with a really solid commercial glider outfit if that interests you at all.

I flew gliders for many years both before and after UPT. One very hot summer my Mom and Step Father came for a visit and hung out for a week where we drank and BBQ's to excess almost every night. At some point during the week my Step Father said he wanted to go for a ride and do some aerobatics. If for no other reason than to put it on record, let me state that my Step Father is the hardest working man I've ever known, a proud farmer, and a damn good man. He treated me as his own from the time I was 13 and if he wanted to do aerobatics, I was gonna make it happen. That Friday night we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning playing poker and drinking...apfelkorn. By noon the next day we were feeling somewhat human and decided to head for the airport. On the way My Step Father insisted we stop at Burger king where he bought and ate a Double Whooper meal. The glider crew was already set up and launching so we were airborne in minimal time. A quick tow to 2000' and I quickly found a thermal up that took us up to 8,000'. I started off gentle with a few loops and rolls, then moved on to a cloverleaf, he seemed to be handling it well so coming out of the cloverleaf I got a ton of smash and pulled straight to the vertical and held it there...As we slowed to a stop I kicked in full rudder and held the stick full aft and right at which point we departed into a very healthy spin. After the recovery I asked him how he was feeling to which he replied "I'm ok, but got damn its hot!" I looked up at the mirror and in the back seat I could see he was covered in sweat. I didn't want to get him sick so I rolled out straight and level and started heading back to the field. He was really quiet for a few minutes...then all of a sudden he yelled out "LAND THIS FUCKING CRATE!!!" .69 seconds later I heard him let go with a thunderous BURRRAHHHHHHH! Followed by another and a "GOT DAMN!!!!" The smell was overpowering and for a minute I thought I was going to puke. The glider has a solid plexiglass canopy with small squares cut in the side for airflow. I put my left hand out the vent on the left side and bent down with my face to get fresh air. I also dropped the nose and flew back to the field at maximum warp...or as much warp as you can have in a glider. I came screaming in over the trees, popped the spoilers and landed in the grass. We had no even stopped moving and I had the canopy open as I unstrapped and jumped out of the glider. I took a few steps and looked back and he was just sitting there covered in puke and laughing. In one hand he was holding my wife's camera and flicked his hand..."Here, Take a picture!" When he made that movement a chunk of hamburger came flying off his hand and almost landed on my leg. He got out and unstrapped and started to clean himself off...the worst part was when he knew he was going to get sick he was afraid he was going to throw up on the back of my head and somehow make us crash, so when he actually started to get sick he puked down his shirt...it was truly disgusting. We walked over to the hanger where he proceeded to take an outdoor shower with the garden hose. My Mom and wife jumped in the car and drove over to Walmart to get him some clothes. As he is stripping down and washing himself off he tells me he has lettuce in the crack of his ass...later we would learn he puked into the battery compartment of my wife's camera...we laughed so hard we cried.

And there are dozens of videos I'd love to post to demonstrate how "precise" grandpa's 105 musket is. The SMEs claiming the 105 is the cure for AIDS are mostly geezers whose last engagement was Panama. I'm neither for nor against the 105, but to claim that it is a must at the detriment of progress or logical engineering is stupid as shit. People like you and so called SMEs will search for any excuse to discredit the W and the PSP. Good thing you aren't who we work for and requests our abilities. That mindset is decades behind and only slows progress. Your mentality is what will eventually cost lives if we end up with a H++ gunship.