Bob's Three Month Cretan Adventure: December 2011

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

WELCOME BACK MELANIE!!!

Dear Friends,

When I first created this site, I had intended that all posts would have a direct correlation to Crete, the 6931^st Security Group, Iraklion Air Station, or “Charlie Flight”. However, last year after devastating floods had resulted in 2.3 billion dollars worth of damage, as well as 32 deaths in the middle Tennessee area, I decided to post a commentary with photos that reflected some of the damage to my hometown.

I have now decided to post another commentary with photos which has absolutely nothing to do with those aforementioned parameters outlined in the preceding paragraph.

Immediately after I retired from the U.S. Postal Service in January of 2004, I decided that in order to maintain a healthy lifestyle, it was imperative that I begin a workout routine at the gym. Although I had been a member of the YMCA for several years, I had seldom used their facilities. Now that I was retired, I had absolutely no excuse for not spending time at the gym and attempting to develop and maintain a healthy mind, spirit and body. One of the very first individuals whom I met at the YMCA was a lovely blond-haired lady, named Melanie. She was friendly, personable, witty and intelligent…a rare combination of qualities not often found in any one person. Within just a short period of time, Melanie and I became good friends and would often spend time talking to each other while on the arc trainers at the YMCA.

Recently, Melanie experienced an illness and complications that the “average” person would have had difficulty enduring and ultimately overcoming. However, my friend, Melanie, can hardly be called “average”. I strongly suspect that beneath her clothing, she wears a bright blue t-shirt which bears a very large red “S” in the middle of that shirt. Yes, I am now convinced that Superman is really a lady named Melanie!

From the first week of November until the middle of December, Melanie spent most of her time in the intensive care units of two different hospitals, battling not only septic shock, but also cardiac arrest, viral pneumonia in both lungs, being placed on a respirator, undergoing a tracheotomy, experiencing intestinal bleeding, and requiring transfusions. She also spent time in a specialty hospital whose purpose it was to help patients become independent of respirators.

Finally, on December 13^th, after 43 consecutive days of hospitalization and medical care, Melanie was released from a hospital in Nashville and allowed to return to her home. While I have to give much credit to the medical community, I must also recognize that Melanie was the object of countless prayers which were heard by a loving and caring God.

On Friday, December 23^rd Melanie returned to the YMCA for the first time since her illness. When she entered the YMCA facility, she was met by a large “WELCOME BACK MELANIE” banner and was immediately besieged by well-wishers and friends who had missed her lovely smile, her bubbling personality and her positive attitude! I have documented that visit to the YMCA below with photographs and captions.

Before closing, I would like to thank the YMCA for allowing me to collect signatures and well-wishes on Melanie’s “Welcome Back” banner and then permitting me to hang that banner at the YMCA facility just prior to Melanie’s visit. I would also like to thank Brent Parchman and his crew at Ledbetter Signs in Clarksville, Tennessee, for designing and printing a banner that was perfect for the occasion. I might also add that after having placed my order for the banner, Brent saw to it that the banner was ready the following morning – now, that’s service!!! And, lastly, I would like to thank all of those who signed Melanie’s banner and prayed for her recovery. Thank you all. And, in keeping with the Christmas Season and in the words of Tiny Tim…”God Bless Us…Everyone!”

Your Friend,

Bobby Armistead

*NOTE: CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO GET A LARGER IMAGE.

ABOVE PHOTO: Melanies's
"Welcome Back" sign hangs in
the lobby of the YMCA.

ABOVE PHOTO: Well-wishers
gather around Melanie upon her
return to the YMCA on Dec. 23,
2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: George Ketch
(orange shirt) directs Melanie to
smile at the camera in the YMCA.

ABOVE PHOTO: Melanie is greeted
by Bobby Armistead at the YMCA on
Dec. 23, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO:
Melanie shares a moment
with Bobby Armistead at
the YMCA on Dec. 23, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: Melanie chats
with Mr. Nanny, Director of
Maintenance, at the YMCA on
Dec. 23, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO:
Melanie poses under her
"Welcome Back" sign
at the YMCA on
Dec. 23, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO:
Melanie poses with
Bobby Armistead under
her "Welcome Back sign
at the YMCA.

ABOVE PHOTO: Well-wishers gather
around Melanie beneath her "Welcome
Back" sign at the YMCA on Dec. 23, 2011.

Friday, December 16, 2011

THE GREATEST COMPLIMENT!

Dear Friends,

I have come to believe that those compliments which are the most treasured are those which are totally unsolicited and completely unexpected. On my first return trip to Crete in 2008, I received what I consider to be certainly one of the nicest and most sincere compliments of my entire life. That year, during my three month stay on Crete, one of the first people whom I met and became friends with was George Stamatakis, the owner of the MariRena Hotel. George was a short Cretan man with thinning dark brown hair, olive-colored skin, dancing dark eyes, a jovial disposition and a pleasant smile which seldom departed his face. George’s English, which was far superior to my Greek, was articulated with a heavy accent and most often spoken almost like prose or poetry. It is my opinion that many Greeks in general and Cretans more specifically, possess that natural ability to speak in such a smooth, flowing manner that it more closely resembles literary honey than a spoken language.

At that time I frequently ate at the Dionysus Taverna which adjoined, and was part of the MariRena Hotel. George Stamatakis would often spend the evening hours at the Dionysus Taverna, moving from table to table and spending time with his customers, almost like a culinary ambassador. One particular evening I had enjoyed a delicious dinner at the Dionysus Taverna and sipped a carafe of chilled white wine which was a perfect accent to my meal. Upon seeing that my carafe was empty, George directed that an additional carafe of white wine be sent to my table along with his compliments. Even though the meal had satisfied my hunger and I was quite full, there was not even the remotest possibility that I would turn down the wine and risk hurting my friend’s feelings. Therefore, I slowly sipped the second carafe of wine and as I did so, could feel that warm glow which had gathered in my stomach, begin to make its way upward to my face and most notably, my cheeks. By the time that I had finished the second carafe of wine, most of my cares had disappeared just as surely as the contents of that carafe had also vanished. In most tavernas on Crete, it is customary that upon completion of the meal, a plate of fruit consisting of watermelon pieces, cantaloupe slices, or an assortment of grapes, be brought to the table, along with a small flask of raki (tsikoudia), and the Dionysus Taverna was not an exception to that unspoken tenet. Shortly after the fruit and raki were placed before me, George joined me at my table, asked me how my meal was, and then encouraged me to enjoy the fruit and raki…which I did….slowly….very slowly. As I partook of the fruit and raki, I couldn’t ignore the fact that my speech was becoming slurred and everything at or near my table had been duplicated, including George. When he spoke, his speech resonated and echoed as if he were either speaking from inside a deep barrel, or else I was hearing from deep inside a barrel. As we continued to talk, I began to relate to George of my love for Crete, its people, history, heritage, culture, language, and food. When we had concluded our conversation, I rose to my feet, and holding to the edge of the table to steady myself, turned to George and said, “Sometimes I think that I should have been born a Cretan.” These were neither idle words, nor were they words which were alcohol-induced. George smiled and then spoke, saying, “But, there is no need…for you are already a Cretan…right here.” And with that, George reached forward and tapped on my chest directly over my heart. I was at a complete loss for words and perhaps that was best, for even if I had been able to find the appropriate words, I’m not sure that I could have found the necessary composure to have spoken them!

Take care, stay well, and let me hear from you.

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

FIND IRAKLION AIR STATION ON GOOGLE EARTH!

If you download Google Earth on your computer, you can access satellite photos of the base. After downloading Google Earth, go to the empty bloc in the upper left-hand corner of the opening page that has the identification, "Fly To". Then enter the following co-ordinates: 35 19' 46.96N, 25 17' 02.20E in the empty bloc, then either click on the "magnifying glass" icon, or hit "Enter" on your computer. These co-ordinates will take you to the rooftop of the Security Compound on Iraklion Air Station. If you enter: 35 20' 11.60N, 25 04' 11.70E in the empty bloc and then hit "Enter", it will take you to the rooftop of the La Stella Apartments where I am currently staying in the seaside village of Amoudara.

Bob

Excerpts from "ZORBA, THE GREEK", by Nikos Kazantzakis:

"I climbed a hill and looked around. An austere countryside of granite and very hard limestone. Dark carob and silvery olive trees, figs and vines. In the sheltered hollows, orange groves, lemon and medlar trees; near the shore, kitchen gardens. To the south, an expanse of sea, still angry and roaring as it came rushing from Africa to bite into the coast of Crete. Nearby a low, sandy islet flushing rosy pink under the first rays of the sun.

"To my mind, this Cretan countryside resembled good prose, carefully ordered, sober, free from superfluous ornament, powerful and restrained. It expressed all that was necessary with the greatest economy. It had no flippancy, nor artifice about it. It said what it had to say with a manly austerity. But between the severe lines one could discern an unexpected sensitiveness and tenderness; in the sheltered hollows the lemon and orange trees perfumed the air, and from the vastness of the sea emanated an inexhaustible poetry.

" 'Crete,' I murmured. 'Crete...' and my heart beat fast."

*************************************************************

"I was happy. I knew that. While experiencing happiness, we have difficulty in being conscious of it. Only when the happiness is past and we look back on it do we suddenly realize - sometimes with astonishment - how happy we had been. But on this Cretan coast I was experiencing happiness and knew I was happy."

*************************************************************

"I looked at Zorba in the light of the moon and admired the jauntiness and simplicity with which he adapted himself to the world around him, the way his body and soul formed one harmonious whole, and all things - women, bread, water, meat, sleep - blended happily with his flesh and became Zorba. I had never seen such a friendly accord between a man and the universe."

*************************************************************

"How beautiful Crete is...Ah! If only I were an eagle, to admire the whole of Crete from an airy height..."
Nikos Kazantzakis

*************************************************************

Opening remarks made by Bob Armistead at the first Charlie Flight Re-Union

June 22, 2007

WELCOME HOME, “CHARLIE FLIGHT”

"We were the eyes and ears of the United States Air Force Security Service. We served during a time when it was not popular to be in the military; nevertheless, we served, and we served well. We were sent to another part of the world to serve in a country where we had never been, and on an island that some of us had never even heard of. When we arrived on Crete we became the best of friends, but by the time that we left, we had become more like brothers.

"We were sworn to a code of secrecy and silence - never able to share with our families or friends the details of the work that we did. And, consequently, never able to be fully recognized by our country for our contributions, our sacrifices, or our achievements to the cause of freedom and world stability. Some have referred to those of us who served in the Air Force Security Service as "Silent Warriors". I think that is a most fitting and proper title which all of us can wear with dignity and with pride.

"We came from a most diverse background. We were of virtually every race and ethnicity, but to most of us that didn't matter. We were rich and poor and middle class, but most of us just didn't notice. We came from almost every social and cultural background imaginable, but most of us didn’t care. We were Jewish, Protestant, and Catholic, but most of us just chose to worship each in his own way. We were Republicans and Democrats and Independents, but we were always Americans first. We were well educated and not so well educated, but we were all smart. We were farmers, mechanics, store clerks, college students, and construction workers, but we became morse and non-morse intercept operators, analysts, telemetry operators, linguists, code breakers and teletype operators. We were first termers and "lifers". And, if one of us wanted to infuriate one of our peers, we would just call him a "lifer". But in our hearts, each of us had only the highest admiration and most profound respect for those who had chosen to make a career of the Air Force.

"Each of us did a job that was no more important to that of the fellow working next to us, but each was vitally important to the peace and security of the United States and the free world. While the rest of the world slept, we were awake and keeping watch – 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year! Perhaps our legacy is the fact that, while we were on watch, there was never a terrorist attack on the United States! And when our overseas duty was finished, we quietly came home. But none of us returned to the sound of bands playing, crowds cheering, or small schoolchildren waving tiny American flags.

"We smoked a lot, drank way too much, and used language that would make our dads chuckle, and our mothers cringe and blush. We did all of those things that young men do when they're away from home and out on their own for the very first time. We worked hard and played hard. And we laughed a lot. We made fun of everything and everybody. No one was safe and no subject was sacred. We even poked fun at ourselves! We were as different as different could be, but we were all united by a common cause, and stood side by side and shoulder to shoulder. If you took on one of us, you took on all of us. Truly, we were brothers!

"And, then there were the sights and sounds and smells of Crete. Who could forget the odor of Greek cigarettes? When I first arrived on Crete and walked into the old airport terminal, I immediately noticed a yellowish-brown haze that floated in the air like the Angel of Death and smelled like a mixture of smoldering straw and sweaty socks. My first thought was, "My God, these people are smoking marijuana." My second thought was, “Hmmm, wonder if they’ve got any more?” And what about the tiny Greek villages with the white-washed houses that dotted distant mountain sides like small white patches of snow? And do you remember the sound of herds of sheep bleating by the roadside and blocking traffic as they crossed from one side of the road to the other? Then there was the beach that we had nicknamed "twelve point five" because it was exactly 12.5 kilometers east of the base. You would never have even known it was there unless you stopped and walked to the edge of the road and looked over a cliff that dropped down about 60 feet. There was a steep and winding rocky path that led down to the beach - unspoiled and pristine. We spent many a four-day break there - camping out and drinking and cooking over an open fire. When we left, we always made sure that the only thing we left behind was our footprints in the sand. Now even those footprints have long since been washed away by the tides of time just like we were never even there. And then there were the little stands in downtown Iraklion that sold souvlaki for about 5 drachmae. And who could forget Minos wine? Or Ouzo the national drink? It was crystal clear but when you mixed it with water it turned a milky white. Or what about Raki, their equivalent to moonshine? It burned going down...and it burned coming back up. There was no way that stuff would stay on this boy's stomach! One of us even put some in a Zippo lighter...and it lit! And do you remember old Greek men in black knee-length leather boots with their white hair, and their white mustaches that were curled up on the ends; and, old women in their long black dresses and heavy black stockings, and head-scarves that wrapped around their heads and across their mouths hiding wrinkled, toothless smiles? And do you recall the children in the slums of Iraklion - the ones with dirty faces and tattered clothing, but with sparkling dark eyes and smiles as bright and warm as the Cretan sun itself? And how curious they were. They used to look at us like we had just stepped off of a flying saucer! And what about the minoli carts that zipped around Iraklion, and motorscooters that carried Papa, Mama, and two or three little ones hanging on for dear life as they darted in and out of traffic? Or the Greek Orthodox Priests with their long black smocks, dark beards and black cylindrical shaped hats? Do you remember the peak of Mount Ida and how it would be covered with snow until June or even July? And what about the crystal clarity of those turquoise-blue waters of the Mediterranean and Aegean Seas? And do you remember those purple, and lavender and red sunrises that reflected on the early morning waters of the Aegean Sea? Some mornings I used to get up before daybreak and walk down to the base beach with my Nikon camera and just stand in awe and amazement as God put on a spectacular and different show almost every single morning! And who could forget "midnight chow" or the lowering of the Greek and American flags at the end of the workday, and how you had to stand at attention and salute until they were lowered? And what about the music we loved - rock n' roll, blues, soul, country, gospel, and yes, even classical? Then, there was Christmas. On Christmas Eve fifteen or more of us would crowd into someone's room in the barracks and we would listen to Christmas music - Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas", and Elvis singing "Blue Christmas". And we would talk and drink....mostly drink. Each one of us would wear his best artificial smile and try to act like it was no big deal to be away from home and our families on Christmas. But I'm sure that when each of us went back to his own room, each went to bed wondering if our loved ones missed us as much as we missed them. And, I can remember some of the young first-term airmen who were married and living in apartments off base. We thought they were so lucky! Sometimes they would invite several of us single airmen over to a good home-cooked meal prepared by their wives. To you ladies who were there, you will never know just how deeply we appreciated your kindness, your hospitality, and especially your good home cooking!

"But then, gradually it all came to an end. One by one, we left. We left Crete and we left the Air Force, taking with us a few souvenirs and many memories. We returned to our families, and our friends, and the girls we had left behind. We went back to school; we got jobs; we settled down; we began new lives; we got married and we started families of our own. But, we never forgot - we never forgot the Air Force, Crete, "Charlie Flight", or each other. Now, for most of us, we are back together for the first time in about 35 years. We've all changed. For many of us, our hair has turned grey or even white. And for others, it has turned loose! Most of us now have wrinkles when we smile and crow's feet etched at the corners of our eyes. Some of us may walk a little slower; our gait is not quite as lively; and, we may not walk quite as tall or straight as we once did. Some have put on a little weight, and others, well, the weight has just shifted. But if you look deep into our eyes, I mean really, really deep...past the tiredness and beyond the years, you will still notice a certain sparkle when each of us talks about Crete and "Charlie Flight" and each other. Now, we've come back together. Welcome home!"

HERE LIES A SILENT WARRIOR

by Bob Armistead

We served in silence, never breathing a word
Of the things we'd seen, or that which we'd heard.
We worked by a code that few have ever known,
And we served in countries that were far from home.

We left all our friends and familes behind
To perform the work to which we were assigned.
We manned our positions - every hour of every day.
Our work never stopped, and we never did sway.

We did all that was asked and we did it with pride;
We stood shoulder to shoulder and worked side by side.
If I'm ever asked, "Would you do it again?"
I'd just smile and say, "How soon can I begin?"

The time which I've served, I'll never regret.
And the men whom I've known, I'll never forget.
Now time has passed and our hair has turned gray,
And our ranks are thinning with each passing day.

So when my bell tolls for the final time,
And the echoes fade from the very last chime,
And my eyes are closed and I've been laid to rest,
Just be assured that I've served with the best.

Please drape my coffin with the American Flag,
And on top of my casket lay out my dog tag.
With my dog tag as my I.D. and the Flag as my shroud,
I'll go to my grave...an American...and still proud!

I'll trek to that place to join all the others,
My comrades in arms: My sisters, my brothers.
I'll be with my friends who have gone on before
And are waiting for me beyond Death's door.

So, when I'm gone, shed no tears for me,
For I've died as I've lived - an American and Free!
And once I've traveled to my Eternal home,
Just carve the following on my gravestone:

"HERE LIES A SILENT WARRIOR"

Copyrighted 2009

*This poem was written as a tribute to all who have ever served with the U.S. Air Force Security Service, or its subsequent command names.

Bob's Three Month Cretan Adventure