The Bad Guys

"And the award for Most Medals Crammed Onto an Already Ugly Uniform goes to..."

There is evil in the world. There are the "little evils" (that bastard that cut me off in traffic yesterday) and then there are the Great Big Evils (the dudes pictured above are sublime examples of this).

In between there are varying levels, sizes and shapes of evil. If we pay attention we can see them all around us. Sometimes we see it in person, sometimes we see it in the media. But evil is there, proudly on display.

Now you may ask at this point why I'm picking on the North Koreans. Simple, the Missus hails from the "Land of the Morning Calm" (i.e. the Republic of Korea or South Korea if you must). I spent four years of my military career in Korea. I came away very impressed with the Korean people. (Not to mention developing a taste for kimchi and other forms of Korean cuisine.)

The folks in charge north of the 38th parallel are truly evil. They are starving the common folk to death, literally, and have them so brain-washed that they thank their Dear Leader (or whatever the current a$$hat calls himself) for the privilege of living in such an enlightened society. And they want to spread their brand of "joy" to their "brethren in the South". These are definitely The Bad Guys.

The Republic of Korea deserves every bit of support the United States can provide. They are counted amongst "The Good Guys". Not to mention how they fought by our side in Vietnam. The VC were scared sh*tless of the Koreans. The Korean troops did not screw around, mess with them, you got your a$$ kicked.

And picture, if you will, the State of Israel, surrounded by enemies who have stated time and time again that their goal is to destroy Israel. No shades of gray there, they've said it out loud and make no bones about it, they mean it. Fortunately these Bad Guys collectively have some of the worst armies in history. Unfortunately there are any number of moronic politicians (an oxymoron I know) who think they can create "Peace in the Middle East" through negotiations and press releases.

Sure that'll work.

The Israelis should also be counted amongst "The Good Guys". The Israelis, like us, are now saddled with some extremely bad leaders in high places. But historically, the Israelis know how to kick a$$ when their backs are to the wall.

Yes, there is evil in the world. It's time people took a stand, enough of this moral relativism and shades of gray thinking. As Edmund Burke said:

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

Make a difference this November. We've had enough "Hope and Change". We've had enough bullshite coming out of Washington. It's time to step up and do the right thing. It's time we remind those a$$hats that they work for us.

It's supposed to be a government of the people, by the people, for the people.

Let's fix this alright? Let's not have to explain to our grandchildren why we let things get so screwed up.

Just sayin'...

Wasteland

Spent the day at the home office, things have changed.

When I left (2 and a half years ago) things were still fairly busy. If you wanted to get a good parking spot, you'd better get in before 0730. Nowadays, a good parking spot can be had at just about any time of the day.

People tell me that there tend to be lulls in the defense contracting business. When I first started here (after retiring from the Air Force) things were booming. The old timers would tell me about the big drop-off that occurred "back in the '90s". They also predicted that things would slow down eventually. They did and here I am.

Compared to a couple of years ago, the building is kind of a ghost land. You can wander about the corridors and not see anyone. While there are not tumbleweeds blowing across the parking lot, I can visualize them being there. The lady who sits across the cube wall from me actually apologized for subjecting me to a long telecon regarding an expense account. After sitting in the dead quiet for a few hours, I told her that it was no problem, it was nice hearing actual business being conducted. It was nice to not feel like the Burgess Meredith character in that old Twilight Zone episode.

These things are cyclic I suppose. It always seems to be feast or famine. But in some ways we're our own worst enemy. When times are good and the flow of cash out of Washington seems never ending, we waste lots of money on fripperies. Hats and t-shirts advertising the name of the latest product are given out to the employees at "town hall" meetings to brief us on how well things are going. Not to mention the free snacks and soft drinks.

I know those things don't cost all that much, but hey, a little here and a little there and soon you're spending fairly large chunks of change.

And meetings, don't get me started on meetings. I've been on projects where we had a weekly meeting which had twenty people in a conference room for up to two hours with nearly everybody letting everyone else know what they did last week, what they were doing this week and what they planned to do next week. Most of these meetings were an absolute waste of time.

There was one group I remember back in the old days where all of them sat in their "War Room", all day long, every day, five days a week. Occasionally they would actually interact with each other. Most of the time they all sat there, staring at their lap top screens and tip-tapping on their keyboards. I think those folks were management. There were 8 to 10 of them on any given day. The project probably had 3 actual engineers doing the actual work.

That's something else I've noticed, the whole "War Room" concept. Seems that if a project had enough managerial and bean-counter types assigned, then they would get their very own "War Room". Basically that meant that they would get their own conference room, which no one else was allowed to use, and a cool sign that indicated that the conference room formerly known as "Conference Room 123" was now the "Agile Death Star Best Practices Lean Paradigm Team War Room". Or some such nonsense.

When you get a chance, go check out CDR Salamander's blog some time (listed in the "Stuff I Like to Read" area off to your right) and read the lead-in to his blog. The part that starts "PROACTIVELY “FROM THE SEA”;" etc. etc. The good Commander is being tongue in cheek, but there are corporate baboons who actually talk like this.

So I spent the day at the home office. Many deserted offices, many empty hallways. There are portions of the building where new construction occurred, and now sits unused. I've also been down hallways where the posters on the walls have not changed since I left. Kind of eerie when you consider that most of those posters were kind of out of date when I left. Feels like a town where everyone just up and left one day. Not to the point where the remnants of someone's lunch was still on the table, but close.

Saturday Afternoon Mish Mosh

This cartoon kind of summarizes what I feel like when it's time to cut the grass. An activity that I have no great love for.

When I was a young'un, my Dad felt that we boys should have a stake in the family estate. What better way than to have us mow the lawn when we were of an age to do so. So, being the oldest, I got to experience lawn mowing first amongst the three brothers.

Apparently my two younger brothers were also cleverer than Yours Truly. I do recall being saddled with the lawn mowing chore up through high school. I'm sure they had chores as well. I don't recall as I was too busy cutting grass. In the hot sun. On the nearly vertical slopes of a yard in Vermont.

I also had a summer job of being a grass-cutter-for-hire. Really I only had one client, a school teacher. But her yard was, and I only exaggerate perhaps a bit, the size of Montana. No shade to be seen whatsoever. I use to wonder if it was possible for her house to actually be on the Equator, while being geographically located in southern Vermont. I swear the sun was always directly overhead on her property.

But the money kept me in comic books, ice cream and sodas back in the day. Well, the grass cutting and the paper route.

Yes, the Old AF Sarge used to be in the journalistic trade. Every morning, save Sunday, I would be up at the butt-crack of dawn and head out to bring the news of the world to my very select clientele. Well, select as in they could afford the ten cents a day for the news of the world (as interpreted in Rutland, VT). Ten cents? Yeah, those days are long gone!

My worst experience while delivering papers was doing so in the dead of winter. One day when I got up, the temperature was hovering around 20 below zero. Fortunately there was no wind chill. But it was still bloody cold!

I bundled up as only a Northerner knows how and ventured out into the Arctic hell that was southern Vermont back in the 1960's. By the time I was trudging back up the hill to the family domicile I realized that I couldn't really feel my legs anymore. It felt like I had two columns of ice underneath me and that somehow my brain was able to command these ice columns to drive me on-wards.

I made it home and promptly headed for the kitchen, always the warmest room in a Northern home, there to thaw out. Before heading upstairs to get ready for school. Whilst doing so, my mother announced that, according to the radio, school was cancelled for that day. Really, why is school cancelled, I queried my Mother. Seems that the temperature had dropped to 40 below zero while I was out making my rounds.

My Mom commented that it was good that I had not gotten frost-bit. Yeah Mom. Certainly that would have sucked. It was also a good thing that I had kept moving while outside. Perhaps the big story in my newspaper would have been the finding of a frozen paperboy that spring.

Local Boy Found Frozen in Snow Drift!

Had Been Missing Since February

I'm sitting here shivering remembering that day. And the outside temperature is hovering around 90!

So right now I'm kind of sitting here, waiting for the outside to cool off a bit. So I can cut the grass. Wonderful. Stuff just keeps growing. You'd think someone would invent a type of grass that would grow to a precise 3 inches long and then stay there. Just think of the fuel savings! But of course, the whole lawn mower and weed whacker trade would be devastated. Actions and equal-and-opposite-reactions I guess.

That's all I've got today. I will be picking up the next installment in Ma Vie Militaire shortly. Just don't have it sorted out in the old noggin yet. Soon my friends, very soon. (Yeah, like everyone is breathlessly anticipating that. My tale is certainly not one of derring-do and action. But hey, I started down that path, so I 'spect I'd best continue at some point.)

Stay thirsty my friends...

Je Suis de Retour! (Eh bien, presque...)

I'm Back!
(Well, almost)

I have a cunning plan my Lord...

In the beginning...
Some two and a half years ago, I was summoned to a meeting of people who were to be "loaned out" to another facility belonging to the sprawling enterprise which provides me with a paycheck. Seems work was going to be slow in the next year (or so) at the home office (no Hogday, not that Home Office) and at another location work was positively booming. Well, not that booming. They felt that they had enough work for a year to keep some people busy, but not enough work to actually justify hiring new bodies to do said work.

It was felt (by the corporate powers that were) that the looming economic crisis might settle down over the next year and then we could all happily come home. Back to the bosom of the home office and all the contracts which surely must come our way.

My personal feeling, upon seeing this meeting invite, was that there had been some mistake. Surely my name does not belong on this list. Oh no my friend, there has been no mistake. Your name definitely is on the list.

I felt like I had been scooped up by a roving press gang. Forced to take the King's Shilling as it were.

Like I said, that was two and a half YEARS ago.

Contracts did not come our way, there was no return to the welcoming bosom of the home office. Such is life. As one of my nominal superiors put it, "Hey, be thankful you have a job!" (I say "nominal" because I recognize no superior save God. Oh yeah, and my wife, definitely my wife.)

Later that same decade...
I am still "on loan". My one year assignment is starting to feel longer than the 30 Years War. I keep telling myself that "I'll be home before the leaves fall", "the war will be over by Christmas", etc, etc.

The biggest kick in the crotch was when the company decided (for reasons of austerity) that they would no longer foot the bill for my travels. I was on my own dime.

"What you talkin' 'bout Willis?", I asked. Well, I could return to the home office and take my chances, OR I could continue to work at the other location. On my own dime.

Let me paint a picture for you, there were many of us that fateful day, who set forth on this brave journey. Of those who made the trip (for that one year assignment), a number left the company to seek other employment (many of them are still looking), some permanently transferred to the loaner location, some were (gasp) laid off. "Here's your severance Johnny, have a nice life!"

Weighing the facts before me, I decided that paying my own way would be better than transferring. You see, I have a LOT of time and money invested in my house, it will be paid for, yes paid for, in just a few years. I do not want to sell the place, move and start all over again. Not on the dark side of fifty years of age! Transferring. Not a viable option.

Leave the company. And just how many going concerns are in the market for an aging engineer? I suspect not many. So again, not an option.

Get laid off. Okay, I would get the severance pay, essentially all pay and benefits for about 14 weeks. Then I'm back to that "who wants an aging engineer" thing.

So I stuck it out. Things can't suck at the home office forever can they?

Apparently they can't. (Suck forever that is.)

Glimmer of hope...
There may be, just may be, a slot for me opening up back at the home office. Rather than wait for them to beckon me home. I have taken my Guard aboard my small ship and have set out from my Elba, to return in triumph to the home office.

The cunning plan? Work part of the week at the home office and part of the week at the loaner location. The plan is to slowly infiltrate my way back into the good graces of the home office. There to be welcomed home and acclaimed throughout the length of breadth of France, err, I mean the company.

Will this bold gamble pay off? Will my long exile finally be over?

We shall see mes amis, we shall see.

Stay tuned. Life may just get interesting again!

I say, what ship is that on the horizon? Blimey, I hope it's not the Billy Ruffian!

(Author's note:  HMS Bellerophon - the Billy Ruffian to the jolly jack tars of the Royal Navy - was the ship that carried the Emperor on the first stage of his journey into his final exile at St. Helena.)

Say What!

Stumbled across this little tidbit today.

Speaking before the NAACP, Attorney General Eric Holder departed from his prepared speech on Tuesday, decrying voter ID laws that have been proposed in 10 states so far.

Seems like a good idea to have voters prove that they are who they say they are. Or is somebody worried that some of their illegal pals might not be allowed to vote?

Isn't this guy's job somehow related to law enforcement, or did I miss something along the way?

For the record, I think most (if not all) politicos are a$$hats, not just the Dems. Though I think they DO have bigger hats.

Saturday Night Return Voyage

Now normally I like flying US Airways. Now I know some of you will be shocked by this revelation. This airline doesn't always get good press. Perhaps with some reason. But at one point in time there was a single person at the check-in counter at TF Green Airport who made all the difference in my own perception of this airline.

However, on Saturday, the 7th of July (in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Twelve, none of that "Common Era" crap for me, thank you very much) US Airways did NOT cover themselves with glory from a public relations standpoint.

Now I'm in a bit of a quandary here. Like I said above, I did have a very positive experience with US Airways once and Saturday's experience was awful. So which story do I tell first, the good one or the bad one? Before I make that decision I'll inflict a couple of "Old AF Sarge Observations" on you.

Observation 1: There are many a$$holes in the world. Far too many for my tastes. Most of them seem to be drawn to politics. Or positions in corporate management.

Observation 2: People who have no respect or consideration for others are, in general, a$$holes.

Observation 3: People who have to deal with customers all day long, many of whom are a$$holes, will eventually exhibit a$$hole-like behavior at some point in their lives. If not careful, they may drift into complete a$$hole-dom. Most will go home, relax, recover and return to work the next day and will strive to do their jobs to the utmost of their abilities. And then an a$$hole will come along, and ruin their day.

Now I've decided, I'll tell the nice US Airways story first.

The Missus and I were scheduled to fly down to Norfolk, for to see the WSO get "patched". (Translation: She was transitioning from a training squadron, VFA-106, to her very first operational squadron, VFA-32. When this occurs, one receives the patches of the new unit for one's flight suit. One also receives a new name patch for one's flight suit, it generally has the appropriate wings, one's rank, and the name "FNG". The "NG" stands for New Guy. The "F"? I'll leave that one to your fertile imaginations. For those who are guessing that it rhymes with "trucking", go to the head of the class. Oh yes, almost forgot, adult beverages are consumed, typically in large quantities.)

So there we were, at TF Green Airport attempting to check in using those fancy machines where you stick your credit card in and it prints out your boarding passes. Well, seems Mr. Fancy Machine didn't want to play nice and referred me to the check-in counter. Never a good sign.

We await our turn, stroll up to the very harried looking lady (VHLL) at the counter and present our dilemma. The conversation then went something like this:

Me: "I attempted to check in, the machine directed me here."

VHLL: "Yes, that flight has been cancelled."

Me: "And....?"

VHLL: "I can get you on a flight tomorrow morning."

Me: "No good, we need to be there tonight. We have an event tomorrow for which that flight would make us late."

VHLL: "Then I don't know what to tell you. Next!"

Now imagine, if you will, a look of extreme puzzlement and mounting annoyance beginning to build upon the Old AF Sarge's visage. Sort of like watching the thunderclouds building up o'er the plains on a hot summer day. The Missus, recognizing all the signs of an impending calamity, takes my arm and starts to pull me back.

But I hear something at the next station at the US Airways counter which gave me pause:

"I'm sorry Sir, let me see what I can do."

Hhhhmm, thinks I, someone who seems to understand customer service. At the appropriate time, I slide over to that lady's position. She informs me that I need to wait in line and would I....

Me: "No Ma'am. I waited in line, only to have your colleague there be completely unhelpful. You seem to know your job and are friendly as well. Please assist us?"

Well, she did assist us. Found us a flight that night. It was to Newport News, not Norfolk, but hey, close enough. The young lady was eager to help, knew how to use the computer system in front of her and knew the right people to call to make things happen. Unlike her colleague, whose sole goal, I felt, was to make the line move as fast as possible without regard to the quality of service being provided.

US Airways got an e-mail praising this young lady, this paragon of service, whose name I had written down. Their answer, "Thank you. Of course, we expect this type of behavior from all of our employees. Etc., etc."

Not pleased with that response, I sent another e-mail.

"While it's nice that you expect this sort of behavior from your employees, Ms. X is one of the very, very few who actually exhibit this behavior. As opposed to Ms. VHLL who was a total jerk and went out of her way to make me feel that even though I paid money to fly on your airline, I was not worth her precious time. How's about them apples, Mr. Corporate Canned Response?"

The next e-mail I received from US Airways actually appeared to be from a human. Thanking me for taking the time to recognize Ms. X and how sorry they were that I had to deal with Ms. VHLL. Ms. X would be lauded and feted, Ms. VHLL would be, ahem, counselled. Yes, I also wrote down Ms. YHLL's name as well. For to complain, of course.

So that's one of my GOOD US Airways stories.

Saturday night, well let's just say that Saturday night was most trying of my patience. What little I have.

Flight back to Rhody was scheduled for approximately 1830. The WSO, the Missus, Little Bit and Yours Truly piled into the WSO-mobile to head for the old aeroporto at an appropriate time which would get me to the airpatch on time for my flight with a little stop at the NEX on the way.

NEX mission completed we were on the road to head for Norfolk International Airport. That's when my cell phone rang. Hhhmm, seems my flight was delayed until 1940 (7:40 PM for you civilians, Mickey's little hand between the 7 and the 8, Mickey's big hand on the 8 for you gravel agitators).

I informed the WSO who asked me what I wanted to do. Just go to the airport, I'll grab some coffee and read my book. (Seal Team Six for those of you with a curious nature.)

Upon arrival I head for Mr. Fancy Machine to get my boarding passes. As I break formation, the WSO looks at the scheduled departures listing and notes something of interest.

"Hey Dad, your flight's been cancelled!"

Cancelled says I, cancelled. Wonderful. Perhaps I'll just stay in Virginia Beach for the remainder of my allotted time on this earth. Perhaps I'll become a wandering vagabond here in the Norfolk area, relying on the kindness of strangers. Perhaps I'll go to the check-in counter and ask, "WTF? My flight has been cancelled?"

I chose the latter option. Skipping the "WTF" portion. The Missus was present, as was the granddaughter. While the WSO would have found that to be very amusing, the Missus? Not so much. And of course, I must set the proper example for my granddaughter. Who finds great joy in announcing to the world at large that she has gone "poopie" and that she has "stinky butt". (Which she had done a few days previously in that fine dining establishment, Chili's. To my great amusement.)

The chap at the counter quickly got me another flight to Rhody. Which left at 2030, roughly 3 hours hence from the time it was, at the time.

This flight, rather than Norfolk - Philly - Providence went Norfolk - Charlotte - Providence. Instead of arriving upon the shore of Narragansett at approximately 2215 local, I should get there "around midnight".

"Midnight today?"

"Yes Sir, midnight today."

"Nothing else available?"

"No Sir. Nothing else available."

Sigh.

So I waited until the appointed time. Noted a rather attractive flight attendant waiting with all of us cargo. She seemed very annoyed with whoever she was speaking with on her cell phone. It also seemed that she was at the end of a very long day.

Turns out that she would be performing duties as a flight attendant on my flight. Seems that the flight attendant who had been scheduled for this flight was, shall we say, "unavailable". So this lady, who had planned on deadheading back to Charlotte, would now actually have to work the flight. After working all day already. Well, the lady sucked it up and soldiered on, so to speak. She performed admirably on the flight to Charlotte. And I'm not saying that just because she was attractive. I'm old, I have no shot, therefore I can look past the attractiveness of much younger females of the species and concentrate on how well they do their jobs. Sure I can, it says so in the Old Guy Dash One (that would be the Old Guy NATOPS for you Naval-types).

At any rate, I made it to Charlotte. Flight was pleasant, view was great. (The view out the window you naughty people. But yes, I was all the way at the front of the Canadair CL-65. And yes, the flight attendant's station is just forward of that, just astern of the cockpit door. But I was observing her duty performance, not her comely aspect. Really, no honest, I was!)

And what was it with that jet? No freaking air conditioning while on the ground? Is this a feature of the Canadair CL-65? (I know it's not the case, but that jet was most uncomfortable while awaiting the switch over to internal power!)

So I'm in Charlotte and my ticket directs me to gate C-14, which is approximately 7 parsecs from where my jet from Norfolk docked. Jumping through hyperspace, I arrive at C-14. Yup, it's a flight to Providence. But it's a DIFFERENT FLIGHT NUMBER.

Damn.

Time to check the monitor. Yes, there are two flights to Providence. The one I want will be docking at Gate C-2. Yes, the gate I passed a few moments before. So back I go.

In time to hear that the aircraft is running late. Instead of leaving at 2206, the gate guy announces that we will be leaving at 2216. While the board behind him changes over to read: "2235". Hhhmm, I sense a disturbance in the Force.

Seems that our aircraft was en route from Minnesota, in the land of COMJAM. And there was a line of thunder-boomers drawn across the land between where I was and where the jet was. Understandable. The weather will do what the weather does. I have no control over that, neither does US Airways.

Eventually our winged transport arrives, is serviced and we shuffle on board. First announcement from our pilot?

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. I'm Captain Garbled and I'll be flying you to Providence tonight. Seems the regular Captain was unavailable so they gave me this flight."

Regular captain unavailable? Say what? What was this person doing? Was he or she making time with that unavailable flight attendant back in Norfolk? So what was our pilot, some guy yanked from the mob, tossed a  blue shirt with four-striped epaulets and told to take us to Providence?

Probably not. I'm pretty sure (well, fairly sure) that US Airways has higher standards than that. Right?

The flight itself was exquisite. The irregular captain got us in the air, did not fly the aircraft into terrain and landed very smoothly in Rhody. Also the moon was just past full, there was low broken cloud and the view out the window was awesome. Well, it was awesome as long as my seat-mate kept his rather LARGE cranium away from the window so I could see.

Old AF Sarge First Rule of Seats: If you have a decent seat on a flight, which then gets cancelled, you will have a crappy seat on the replacement flight.

Old AF Sarge Second Rule of Seats: If you are occupying one of the last two seats on an aircraft and two people get on the aircraft after you, you will get the person least desirable as a seat-mate. The hot chick (hot guy for you ladies in the audience) will sit somewhere else.

Old AF Sarge Corollary to the Second Rule of Seats: If you are wearing nice clothes, then that least desirable person will also be an absolute slob. Be prepared to get drenched with whatever that person is drinking at some point in the flight.

Thus endeth the science lesson. Like I said, I made it home in one piece. Number of controlled landings equaled number of take-offs. Jet was still usable. Unfortunately, rather than arriving at Chez Sarge at the fairly reasonable hour of 2230, I rolled through the palace gates at approximately 0045 local. You know, in the wee dark hours of the night.

But it was a good trip down Dixie way. Had fun, now it's back at work.

Sigh...

Pungo

Entrance to the Military Aviation Museum in Pungo, VA

Okay, Yours Truly has been more or less off the grid for the better part of a week. Sure, I did a wee post on the Fourth of July (how could I not?) but that's pretty much it since last weekend.

Oh, I had big plans for posting while visiting the WSO and Little Bit down in Virginia Beach, but truth be told, my granddaughter has me wrapped around her little two-year old finger. Even more so than the Nuke and the WSO.

So rather than regale you all with what I was doing or perhaps entertaining you with my lame form of humor, I was paying more attention to family matters. It was hard not to.

After all the Nuke and the Bear drove all the way over from Memphis for to share the holiday with us. So there we were: myself, the Missus, the Nuke, the Bear, the WSO and Little Bit. We had a grand time but it was over all too quickly.

Amazing how four days seems like a lot until you're sitting in an airport wondering how it all went by so fast. But it did and it's off the banks of the Merrimack River tomorrow to once again earn my pay.

But while down south, down Dixie way, I had the opportunity to revisit one of the jewels in the Virginia Beach crown, for those so inclined. Which I was.

I'm speaking of the Military Aviation Museum in Pungo.

We went there two years ago at the insistence of Big Time and I've been itching to get back ever since. They have, drum roll please, one of the most interesting collection of military aircraft I've ever seen in such a small place. Well, small in terms of real estate but NOT small in terms of the work they do there.

For you see, the majority of their collection is, wait for it, FLYABLE!

Going around this museum you can't help but notice that most of the aircraft have drip pans underneath the engines. To catch the oil you see. Which tends to drip from the old girls sitting in the hangar awaiting their next flight. So without further adieu, it's time for some Old Timey Plane Pr0n!

Of course that's me, got myself another hat, in Honor of Lex

Dual Purpose German 88mm in Afrika Korps Livery (Searchlight is extra, batteries not included)

B-17 "Chuckie"

B-25 "Wild Cargo"

F4U Corsair

FW-190 in the Maintenance Hangar

Hurricane and Friends

3/4 Scale Nieuport With Insignia as used by Georges Guynemer

P-51 Mustang (of course...)

PBY-5A Catalina

The "Peashooter"

Polikarpov I-16 "Rata"
(One of the docents pointed out that they have trouble finding pilots
with the stones to fly this baby. Sucker is an engine with wings!)

SE-5A (Old AF Sarge's Favorite WWI Bird)

Skyraider

Spitfire in the Maintenance Hangar

Fieseler Storch

The Russians Are Coming (P-39 in the background, tail of a YAK-3 in the foreground)

Fokker D-VII

Fokker DR-1

Enjoy! I'll make sure to post more pics from Pungo soon!