I cleaned my attic tonight after work. Many years of things came down and are in piles in my garage to sort through in the coming days before moving to the new home. One of those piles is a few boxes of stuff from my time in the Navy. Theres not too many things I kept after 12 plus years. My dress uniform, a few hats. My medals and ribbons, a few awards. Lots of pictures. Pictures of liberty ports, drinking, guys I still remember as if it were last Friday. In one folder there were some papers, my original enlistment contracts, faded and yellowed, brittle with age from 1988 and some old flight schedules. One of them, I squirreled away before a series of strikes we were prepared to execute in Iraq. I looked back at the flight schedule and seeing the pilots names by each aircraft and their load outs. The ordnance load outs that I supervised for 12 hours in the dark prior to the launches. Incredible amounts of smart munitions and Mk 80 series bombs (dumb bombs fused to penetrate into a buildings inside then detonate). Looking back on those flight schedules took me back to the Persian Gulf tonight. Hot air, long nights and standing at the ready for Sadam (remember that POS) to either jump or comply with the the UN's Inspectors (think Hans Blix, another POS). Sarah saw this Mk -76 inert practice bomb I kept as a reminder of the couple millions of pounds of munitions I hand loaded over 12 years. She kept telling me she is not keen on having bombs in the new house? It's inert, relax and I dropped it on the ground to show her it was safe as I ran away screaming to get away. (Once a bomb guy, always a bomb guy)

Flight schedules and sorties, reconfigure and change the load. Strike packages and CAS missions. Air to air and all the other jargon I lived and breathed for some many years once again saw the light of day- and tonight's it's back in it's box where it belongs.