A SUMMER NIGHT AT TSN IN ‘67
By Harlan N. Hatfield
It was a quiet and very dark summer
night, the rays of setting sun had disappeared over the horizon hours
ago. The sounds of silence were wafting across the open field to the
East. As you sit all alone you can faintly hear the drone of engines on
Spooky as she made her nightly rounds. You're never alone as long as
the Dragon Lady is in the air, and that's a very comforting thought
tonight. As the flares fall slowly earthward, sending forth their
million candlepower rays of light, causing shadows to dance and race
from building to building as if they were children playing tag. If one
tries hard enough it is possible to see all sorts of images in the dim
shadows. Sudden movement in the field of the dead brings
the pulse to a racing rate, all of a sudden you notice you're not breathing in effort to hear, so you force
yourself to again inhale the aromatic summer air. Moments later you see
it's only a couple of dogs on their nightly hunt, so you again turn
inward to your own reverie.
You think back to the faces of the young lads as they stepped off the
bus this afternoon. You wonder what kind of world would cause a young
lad of 18 or 19 to see things and do things that creates a face of a
haggard old man on this young body. You look toward the heavens and ask
the Great Spirit, why can man be so gentle to some things and yet so
cruel and unkind to others. You question the Spirit as to the wisdom of
such endeavors and why it is allowed. But your questions are not
answered now!
The hour is the darkest and coldest, just before dawn when you finally
begin fathom an answer from the Great Spirit. It comes not as a voice
or a sign but something felt deep within. The answer is this:
"Mourn not the dead for they are free! But instead mourn for the
survivor, for he shall forever carry the memories, the scars, and the
memories, even though they may be repressed they shall continue to
creep into his conscious to haunt him !"
In hopes we NEVER forget, I dedicate this to the ones left behind, I
will NOT FORGET YOU and ask the Great Spirit each day to allow you
again to join your Country and your families.
Harlan N. Hatfield TSN 1967
500TH BOMB SQUADRON NEWSLETTER
The 500th BS newsletter is the
lifeblood of the organization, or at least that is what past President,
Lynn Daker, told me. I am fortunate to have known many of the past
officers. Bob Bynum, Bill Cavoli, Rex Reheis and Lynn Daker come to
mind. I think in fondness now on many of the stories they shared. Some
of the stories I heard so many times that could recite them. In fact
that is what happened on several occasions when I traveled with Lynn to
speaking engagements which I had set up. Lynn would be in the middle of
a story and get mixed up or forget some detail in his excitement. A few
times I would either fill in the details or correct the story. We both
laughed about the fact that I could tell Lynn’s story as a good as he
could.
Since personal stories are very important to the newsletter, I’d like
to encourage all the original veterans to share your experiences with a
new generation. I understand that you may think that everyone already
knows your stories, but that is not the case. Many of you have shared
with me experiences from your days in the 345th BG. Please write them
down for us. Even if you have had
your stories published in the past, tell them again. You may just find that more details emerge.
You second and third generation members, we need to hear the stories
that you grew up hearing. Even though some of the finer points of the
experiences of your fathers, grandfathers or uncles may not be filled
with extreme detail, the basic story is still important for posterity.
Please, share with the rest of us!
Please keep the articles and pictures coming to dylanwag@earthlink.net. We will be mailing the Rough Raider quarterly and it can be viewed and downloaded online at www.500thbsq-B25s.com.
Kelly McNichols
IN MEMORIAM
Harold L. Estey on April 17, 2011
Lewis Goldston in Virginia
The 500th Association Family sends sincere condolences to the Estey and Goldston families and friends.