After Supply at Elmendorf had forced me to return my arctic gear, including the parka and rubber boots with their liners, I flew to Seattle to process from active duty. I was not happy to turn-in the parka because it had become a part of me. The boots were a different story. I never wore the sorry things! My combat boots worked just fine in Cold Bay, thank you. In fact, those boots served me well for several more years. I wore them on treks in the Wyoming mountains, Smokies, and many places in-between. It was a sad day for me when they were retired. The surplus international-orange flight suits I had purchased for five dollars while at Cold Bay were put to good use. They were perfect during bad weather and chilly temps at eleven-thousand feet in the Cloud Peak Wilderness of the Big Horns. The glass balls that were hanging over my bed in Cold Bay are still residing on the bookcase in my office. The glass ball on the top shelf is one that I found with water inside. That water has remained inside the ball for over five decades now. Every once in a while I pick it up and jiggle it to see if the water is still there. When I do, memories of that year in Cold Bay come flooding back! My sweatshirt from Cold Bay is now in the possession of my daughter at her request. I now have a new one, thanks to Michael Livingston. Cold Bay and its Air Force Station will always be a part of me.