This will be a brief account of my tremendous experiences at the reunion of my old fighter group. It was held at Riverside, California, with headquarter at the Mission Inn. When you see part of a sentence in blue and underlined, just click on it to see the pictures that Robin inserted to go with the words..

I made arrangements to have someone stay at home with my beloved wife, Lois, who has M.S. and was unable to travel with me. My lovely daughter, Denise, made arrangements to be able to leave her husband and two daughters in good hands, and came with me.

Since this might be the last real opportunity for my kids to join me in one of these reunions, I decided to have everything as first class as possible. I say, "kids," since son Chris was to meet us at the Mission Inn this night. Denise came to my house at 09:30, bags in hand, ready to travel. I arranged for a chauffer-driven car to pick us up at my house shortly after that time, in order to catch a 10:00 ferry at Clinton dock, near where we live. The car arrived right on time, took us to, on, and beyond the ferry to the airport to catch our flight #444, Air Alaska, to Ontario. We took off right on time, at 13:38, and arrived in Ontario right on time at 16:10.

On the trip down, I introduced myself to a gentleman across and behind our seat. He turned out to be Robert D. Harris, formerly of the 94th!!, with his wife Ethel. I hadn't met him before. When I got home I looked him up in John Mullins' "An Escort of P-38's." He's there, IN SPADES (3-0-3).

The Mission Inn transportation van picked Denise and me up right on time, as planned, the reservations at the Inn were all in order, and we were off to a good start for a great reunion. I reported to the 1st Ftr Gp registration room to sign in and get the goodies packet that Robin and Mary had so diligently prepared. I offered my services to help them with the registration. More about that later! And then off to the hospitality rooms.

Son Chris arrived at the Inn around 20:30, pretty much on his ETA, shortly after Denise and I polished off a very tasty, rare prime rib dinner. Not long after this, we all agree we could use some sack time and set a 06:30 meeting in the lobby the next morning to grab some breakfast before our departure for March Field.

The kids and I met, on time, in the lobby, had breakfast, and waited to board the bus for March Field.

To begin with, the bus trip to the F15 Demo, and the missing man formation was uneventful---until we approached the gate the driver anticipated being able to enter. All the buses (I think there were six) made a big, and I mean BIG, u-turn, and headed down the way we'd come. After a short distance we passed a car very much in the ditch, with a contingent of police checking it out. This might have had something to do with the gate entrance problem.

We proceeded back toward the hotel, as if the whole trip had been cancelled. However, the driver informed us we were going in the right entrance this time. We did make it to the area where the F15s from Langley were parked and we anxiously awaited the F15 Demonstration (translation - fabulous aerobatics) which was to be flown by Major Chanz Chandler. The weather was below the minimums for even the low level demonstration, but was forecast to improve later. With lots of improvisations by the March Field people, we were able to go to the other side of the field to see the P38 Hangar while we waited for the weather to improve. This had been scheduled to be visited after the demonstration. It was filled with a lot of interesting P38/F5 memorabilia. PLUS a gorgeous looking P-38. That's the first time in decades I'd been able to touch one. I wondered how I had ever been spry and agile enough to be able to climb up that skinny little ladder to get up!! Now I'd need a crane or hydraulic platform!

After the visit to the P38 Hangar, back across the field we went in hopes that the ceiling would lift. We parked ourselves on the bleachers and strolled out to the1st Fighter Wing's four F15s. Every one who wanted to (and were able) climbed up and looked into the 71st Fighter Squadron Commander's F-15. The pilots and crews were so great. They answered all our questions and fed us information that was fascinating. I'm sure glad they're on our side! L/C Pete Bartos and Robin Hansen discuss the origin of the Aim 9.

It didn't take long before Major Chandler arrived at the microphone and announced that the ceiling was too low even for his low level demonstation. He told us that he was disappointed that he was unable to perform. He had looked forward to this for a long time. After a long wait the announcer told us to look north and watch for the four F15s who were to perform the missing man formation. Our magnificent flight of four F-15s were truly an awesome sight. Here's what they looked like as the pull away is starting. What a sound!!

The March Field support people were fantastic in their willingness to make changes to we could see both the P38 Hangar and still see the missing man formation. Without their help, the day would have been a washout.

When we returned to the Mission Inn, my afternoon fun began. I had told Mary and Robin that I would like to help them with the registration, or whatever, so I headed for the registration room area. I met poor lil' ole Mary at the desk. She was surrounded by old fighter pilots, crew chiefs, radio men, and armament crews, all asking questions at the same time. Harassed as she was she somehow managed to maintain her cool. I don't know how she did it! It was, "I listed two roast beef, one chicken and one salmon dinners for the squadron banquet. Now I'd like to change that to one roast beef--------" "I listed three trips on the Nixon Library trip, and I'd like to change that to one Nixon Library-----" "I didn't make any reservations for a room, and now they say they're sold out!!!" Etc., ad infinitum! Poor Mary! I sat down and tried to take Mary's place while she and Robin took a much needed break. I proceeded to put a little levity into the process. As the new arrivals came to register, I'd inform them, just to make sure they knew where they were, that this was the registration for the reunion of the P-51, 354th Group, and watch their confusion for a few minutes. It sure doesn't take much to confuse us old folks!! From that afternoon on, every time I met Mary, I'd come up behind her and ask, "could I change that roast beef dinner to one of a rack of lamb," "Can I change our Nixon Library trip to three trips to the winery??"

Dinner this night was down the street at a local barbecue shop with the kids and Doris Cook , our most dear friend, and widow of my overseas mate, Roger Cook. Click for a picture of Doris and Archie Jackson resting together with various other pictures of reunion activities. We stopped by the Presidents Lounge to take in the bassist and pianist for a short while, and then this old pilot hit the sack, to prepare for the next trip.

Some mass confusion in the lobby as the two different tour groups, the Nixon Library and the Winery, milled around, trying to decide which bus to get on. Our tour of the Nixon Library was very informative. There was way too much to see in a matter of a couple of hours, i.e., letters to read, audio tapes to listen to, video tapes to watch, endless exhibits and memorabilia, including incredible gifts given to the Nixons from leaders all over the world {donated to the museum---as someone suggested, "if so and so had received them, I doubt she would have given them to the museum!" Oh, Oh).

This was squadron dinner night. We had a Group happy hour, followed by individual squadron dinners. Ours was great. I can't say too much about how well Robin and Mary did making all the arrangements, down to the tiny details!

I think it was this day that son Chris learned about one of our little tricks for cooling our beer in a hurry. We didn't have ice until late in the war (we bought a distillery and ice-making plant in Italy at war's end, I remember), so we had to improvise ways to cool our liquids. We'd put some beer in the battery compartment in the left boom, fly to 20,000 feet for so for a few minutes. Voila! Instant cold beer. Another good way was to put the beer in a metal garbage can and foam it with a CO2 fire extinguisher. We told Pete Bartos, of the 71st, about this, and he was very interested.

"And then there was one." This was the day of the major event, le piece de resistance (put the accents in yourself!), the big day at Palm Springs airport. Our buses left on time (the bus service was outstanding--every day!!), and we arrived at Palm Springs airport around 10:30, I think. We went through the museum, looked all the old war birds over and over and over! We were told the fly over of the P-38 would be around 11:00, then 12:00, then 13:00----. It finally happened around 14:30. It obviously wasn't arranged by Mary and Robin!! The fact that it happened at all is still a miracle, and it was a miracle to behold!

The pilot who was to fly the 38, Steve Hinton, wasn't there when we arrived. He came in later in a T-28, with friend, from Chino Airport. I believe Chino is the home base for Joltin' Josie, the 38 we're talking about. When Steve taxied in and parked adjacent to the 38, son Chris had a short chat with him since he's known Steve for some time from air shows history. After a delay to fuel the 38, the awaited-for event was about to take place. Steve very lovingly cranked up "Josie." Did anyone notice how gently Steve first turned her over---just a short turn over 'til she caught, then pulled it right back, so it wouldn't race one bit. Didn't that first rumbling purr sound beautiful?

Out he taxied, off to our right, northward, out of sight. We couldn't hear him check his mags, at least I couldn't. Then folks on his side, who could first see him, said, "here she comes!" That gorgeous bird--a gently left turn back 180 degrees, then his first pass, in the same direction he took off, nice and low, at a cool 275 mph. He made two more passes, about the same way. You just hoped it wouldn't quit---but it did. Then he greased it in for his landing and taxied in. What an experience!! I didn't mention that the going temperature during this whole operation was about 108 degrees! But it was a dry heat!! Ha!!

This is the night of the Group banquet dinner, in the Convention Hall, a couple of blocks. down the street from the Inn. It was a super spread, with lots of room. I sat at a table with two new-to-me friends, Ken Fritz and Robert Graham. They both worked in MacAllister's' communication group (radio maintenance). Ken was telling me how he arranged for in-tent electric lighting, using gun sight lamps (don't tell MacAllister). I found out he's on-line (on the internet), but Robert was not. We both encouraged Robert to get with it. This reminds me.

We had our squadron meeting at, was it, 09:00, where we "elected" (drafted) new officers for the next two years, and discussed where and how to have the next reunion. Robin told of the "old soldier's fund," but refused to divulge the source. We had a pretty good idea who it was!

Meanwhile, back at the Group banquet, we had an excellent speech by General Lay. It's funny how, even you have no responsibility toward him, and how in awe you are of a general. They always get my attention! This was followed by an MOST interesting presentation by a young astronaut, somehow related to Robin Hansen. This really caught my daughter's attention. She got all kinds of data, including the NASA web site, to pass on to her daughter.

And so, home. Daughter Denise and I took off from Ontario Airport at 06:45, and walked in my front door on Whidbey Island at 10:38, including a ferry boat ride from Mulkiteo to, excuse the expression, Clinton, where we live. It normally would take almost that long to get from our home to Seatac airport!