Bob's Three Month Cretan Adventure

WELCOME BACK MELANIE!!!

2011-12-28T06:07:00.003+02:00

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.

THE GREATEST COMPLIMENT!

2011-12-16T06:36:00.008+02:00

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

HARLEY: The Cutest Kid On Crete!

2011-11-01T19:26:00.002+02:00

Dear Friends,

I think that most of you will agree with me that virtually ALL kids are cute. But some kids just seeem to possess a "cuteness" that is on a scale above which most kids are considered cute. I had the privledge of meeting just such a child during my recent stay on Crete. He was visiting Crete with his grandparents, David and Helen from Northern Ireland, and his name is Harley. Harley is an energetic, typical three year old boy with bright blue eyes and an equally bright smile, and a head full of curls, all of which exude enough natural charm to capture any heart!

I had the opportunity to photograph Harley at a recent dinner outing at the Tzagkaris Taverna in the little mountain village of Drosia on the Greek island of Crete. I hope you enjoy the following photos and that they brighten your day!

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

NOTE: Please click on any photo to view a larger image.

ABOVE PHOTO: Harley beams
with enthusiasm in the late afternoon
sun at the Tzagkaris Taverna in Drosia
on September 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: Harley eats a
piece of bread while watching me
intently as I photograph him.
September 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO:
Harley smiles in the late
afternoon sun in Drosia
on Crete.
September 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: Harley
watches as I photograph
him in the village of
Drosia on Crete.
September 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO:
Harley cuts his eyes
back as something
catches his attention.
Drosia - Sept. 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO:
Harley smiles at others
in the Tzagkaris Taverna
in Drosia on Crete.
September 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: Harley casts a
pensive look as I photograph him in
Drosia on Crete. September 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: Harely's curls
seem almost ablaze in the late
afternoon sun in Drosia on Crete.
September 25, 2011.

DINING AT DROSIA

2011-10-31T23:50:00.005+02:00

Dear Friends,

Since I have been here on Crete, I have come to recognize the difference between simply eating a good meal and having a genuine dining experience. Fortunately, there is no shortage of little cafes or tavernas on Crete where one can enjoy a very nice meal. But, to have an authentic Cretan dining experience, sometimes one must look away from his comfortable surroundings and be willing to venture out and away from where he has been accustomed to eating. I am fortunate enough to have good friends on Crete who have a vast knowledge of places where one is able to enjoy the full scope of a traditional Cretan dining experience. One such place is the Tzagkaris Taverna to be found in the small mountain village of Drosia. Drosia is located about 17.47 miles (28.11 kilometers) south and west from the front of the La Stella Apartments in Amoudara (based on GoogleEarth), and takes a good 45 minutes to travel there by auto over narrow mountain roads that twist and turn more than a cobra trying to dodge a mongoose! But, those winding mountain roads also provide some spectacular views of fertile olive groves, valleys and beautiful vistas looking out over Heraklion and Amoudara.

The Tzagkaris Taverna is not new, but it did move from an older location in Drosia to its new site which can be found just down the block and on the same street. The new building is spacious and accented with lots of stone and wooden beams which help give it a warm, relaxed and comfortable atmosphere. There are numerous tables and chairs out on the veranda for outdoor dining, or you can eat inside the completely enclosed dining room if desired. To the right of the outdoor dining area there is a small, glass-enclosed room which houses a large bed of coals. Over these coals are constantly rotating spits on which lamb, goat, pig, rabbit and chicken are roasted. Above the rotating spits hang sheep entrails that are smoked and roasted. The owner, Michalis Petousis, used to do all the roasting of the meat himself; however, he now entrusts that all important task to his wife. Michalis spends much of his time now going from table to table, visiting briefly with the patrons and insuring that all has been cooked to perfection and served promptly. His white hair and mustache and his broad smile convey a genuine warmth that says in ANY language, “Welcome. I am truly glad you are here!” As often as she can, his wife will slip out of the “roasting room” for a few minutes and also visit with customers. She not only shares her smile, but also freely gives hugs and kisses to her customers just like they are family.

The dining experience at the Tzagkaris Taverna is not like eating at a typical tourist taverna. Fortunately, Bryan, my good friend from

Scotland

, speaks Greek well enough to order for us all. But, he doesn’t place an order for each individual, rather he orders platters of food which are brought out and placed on the table. Each person then simply dishes food from the several platters onto his own plate. On the numerous occasions that I have traveled to the Tzagkaris Taverna with my friends, we have eaten such dishes as pork roasted on a spit (ofto gourounopono), lamb roasted on a spit (ofto arni), smoked pork (apaki), sheep intestines (kokopetsi), tzatziki sauce, oven roasted potatoes (potato alfono), wild greens salad (agriosalata), traditional Cretan salad (salata Kriti), zucchini flower or courgette flower (kolokianthi), sheep’s liver (sikoti), squid (calimaris), beans (fava), stuffed vine leaves (dolmathakia), sour cream cheese (amthogalo), freshly baked bread, and, of course, village wine. For dessert we have enjoyed crepes stuffed with cheese (sfakiani pita), ice cream and yogurt drenched with caramel, fresh grapes, apples, watermelon and cantelope pieces. I have enjoyed sampling all of these dishes and more!!! I must confess that I never once hesitated to try any of the dishes cooked at the Tzagkaris Taverna – it didn’t matter if it was a dish that was completely alien to me or if it was a dish that I was uncertain that it might not appeal to me - I tried it and I enjoyed it all!!! And…upon my return to the

USA

, the first time that I stepped on the scales, I discovered that I had gained almost 8 pounds! Now, I have to shed those unwanted pounds so that I can put them back on when I return to Crete again next year!

I have to say at this point that while the food served at the Tzagkaris Taverna is some of the best that I have eaten on Crete, what makes it an outstanding dining experience are those friends who have been gathered around the table with me. Dining with close friends makes a good meal great, and a great meal outstanding! At various times, I have had the distinct pleasure to sit and dine with friends from Germany, Northern Ireland, Greece, Holland, England, Scotland, and the USA.

*NOTE: There is a possibility that I might have misspelled some of the Greek terms used to describe the Greek dishes above. But….just blame it on the raki!

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

NOTE: “Click” on any photo below to view a larger image.

ABOVE PHOTO: The open veranda
outside the Tzagkaris Taverna in the
mountain village of Drosia.

ABOVE PHOTO: Sign outside the
Tzagkaris Taverna in the small
mountain village of Drosia.

ABOVE PHOTO: Mutton and pork
are roasted above the glowing embers
at the Tzagkaris Taverna in the little
mountain village of Drosia.

ABOVE PHOTO: The owner's wife
carefully tends to pork and mutton
roasting over the hot coals at the
Tzagkaris Taverna. Notice the sheep
entrails hanging at the top of the photo
as they are smoked and roasted.

ABOVE PHOTO: Michalis Petousis,
owner of the Tzagkaris Taverna in
Drosia, tends to the every needs of
his customers. (July 31, 2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: The inside dining
room at the Tzagkaris Taverna in
Drosia.

ABOVE PHOTO: Rainer gives his
lovely wife, Petra, a kiss as Bryan and
Peter look on approvingly.
(July 31, 2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: Clockwise left:
Coby, Theo, Rainer, Petra, Bryan and
Peter at the Tzagkaris Taverna in
Drosia. (July 31, 2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: A table full of happy
customers at the Tzagkaris Taverna in
Drosia. (July 31,2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: Michalis Petousis
eagerly shares his warm and genuine
smile with his patrons at the
Tzagkaris Taverna in Drosia.

ABOVE PHOTO: Rainer and Petra
share a tender moment at the
Tzagkaris Tavrna in Drosia.
(July 31, 2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: Paul and Karen
also share a tender moment at the
Tzagkaris Taverna in Drosia.
(July 31, 2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: Theo (standing)
and Coby (seated) smile like two
teenage lovers at the Tzagkaris
Taverna in Drosia. (July 31,2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: Coby (seated) and
Theo (standing) share a loving moment
with each other at the Tzagkaris
Taverna in Drosia. (July 31, 2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: Left to right:
Coby, Karen and Bobby share a laugh
at the Tzagkaris Taverna in Drosia.
(July 31, 2011)

ABOVE PHOTO: My friends from
Holland, Greece, Germany, Northern
Ireland, England, Scotland and the
USA gather at the Tzagkaris Taverna
in Drosia on September 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: Friends from
Greece, Holland, Northern Ireland,
Germany, England, Scotland and the
USA gather at the Tzagkaris Taverna
in Drosia on Septmber 25, 2011.

ABOVE PHOTO: Friends from
Greece, Holland, Northern Ireland,
Germany, England, Scotland and the
USA gather at the Tzagkaris Taverna
in Drosia on September 25, 2011.

HALLOWEEN REALLY SUCKS!

2011-10-31T22:53:00.000+02:00

Dear Friends,

This is just to wish all of you a HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

ABOVE PHOTO: Dracula (Bob Armistead) enjoys a nice warm cup of
blood...type O+ at this favorite haunt!!!

PROBLEMS WITH POSTING

2011-10-27T05:23:00.003+03:00

Dear Friends,

Some of you have expressed concern over my lack of postings here on my site. To be quite honest with you, I have had numerous problems relating to my posts here. More specifically, I have had a really difficult time posting and arranging my photos here since I first arrived on Crete in July. These problems persisted throughout my entire three month stay on Crete. I had hoped that once I returned to the

USA

, the problem might resolve itself, but, alas, that just has not happened.

Not only have I had difficulty posting my photos here, but I have also had a problem arranging them in the order that I wished. Perhaps some of you have noticed how many of the photos that I have posted are no longer symmetrical; that is, not arranged in a balanced order. Some of the photos I have posted look as if I have posted them in a rather haphazard order. I don't know what the answer to my posting problems are...or even if there is an answer. But, I will continue attempting to resolve the issue in the hope that I can post many of the commentaries that I have already written, along with photos to accompany them.

Thank you in advance for your patience and your tolerant understanding in this matter.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

SANTORINI: The Volcanic Island

2011-09-21T10:33:00.017+03:00

Dear Friends,

On August 17, 2011, I traveled by high-speed ferry from Crete to the Greek island of Santorini…the volcanic island. I arrived in the Iraklion harbor early that Wednesday morning by bus and was deposited alongside a large ship that sat moored in the port. The ship was sleek and even looked fast as she sat floating in the water, waiting for all the passengers to embark on their journey to Santorini. After all were onboard she eased out of the Iraklion harbor and headed for open water. Once she was on the high seas she unleashed the power of her engines and the waters of the Aegean Sea parted smoothly before her as we traveled north. She was able to cover the 68 miles from Crete to the port at Santorini in about two hours, fifteen minutes. Even though the sea was fairly calm with gentle swells, the ship would softly rock from port to starboard (left to right, or from side to side). I’m sure the rocking motion contributed to the many passengers who were fast asleep in their seats. There was what I would refer to as “theater seating” in the very large forward and aft salons. But on the upper deck there were plush accommodations for those whose tastes demanded more and whose pocketbooks could afford it. On our deck there was a small snack bar where one could get a sandwich, a slice of pizza, a sweet roll, and soft drinks or coffee. While our accommodations were anything but luxurious, they were quite comfortable and provided everything this boy from Tennessee needed. I was just content to sit back and enjoy the blue waters of the Aegean Sea flowing past as we headed toward Santorini.

About 9:30 A.M., I noticed the ship’s engine noise became subdued and our speed was noticeably slower. I moved forward and tried to see what lay ahead…and there…out of the Aegean Sea, rose Santorini – the volcanic island! Our ferry was piloted with the skill of true professionals as she was guided into the Athinios Port, eased alongside the dock and came to a gentle stop. Once the ship was secured, we all disembarked and made our way to our pre-designated busses. Our tour guide was a Greek lady who spoke several languages. She told us that in much earlier times, Santorini was known as “Santa Irini” (Saint Irene), but gradually, that name morphed into Santorini. Today, the official name is Thera (or Thira), but most still refer to it as Santorini. We headed up from the port on a narrow winding road that made numerous switchbacks, and then we made our way through the capital city of Fira before traveling on to the most photographed village on the island…Oia. On our way to Oia our guide informed us that about 3600 years ago - sometime between 1645 BC and 1600 BC, the volcano, which had been located in what was then the center of Santorini, became violently active. The volcano literally exploded and then collapsed in on itself. That left a gigantic caldera or crater about 7.5 miles long by 4.3 miles wide. Immediately, the sea water rushed in, filling the caldera and resulting in the formation of a giant lagoon. Many geologists and archaeologists believe that when the volcano erupted, it unleashed a massive tsunami which struck Crete, destroying the Minoan civilization there. Today, beneath that lagoon, sleeps the volcano…who knows when it might awaken again and unleash its fury!

After arriving in Oia, we were given two hours to explore the narrow winding footpaths that led up and down and through the village. I ate a quick lunch, grabbed my camera and then took off, wandering through a virtual photographer’s paradise. I tried to focus my attention on the architecture of the buildings and the way in which the houses were built into the sides of the volcanic cliffs overlooking the caldera. But, two hours really weren’t a sufficient amount of time to even begin to capture the photographic potential of Oia. Oh, well…perhaps next year.

We left Oia and headed to the capital city of Fira. There we were once again given time to travel the city on our own. There were museums…churches…shops…tavernas…so much to see…so little time! After assembling at the bus at the appointed time, we left for the trip back to the port and then set sail for Crete. I arrived back at my apartment on Crete later that evening. While I am glad that I made the trip to Santorini, I think that it has over-capitalized on its appeal to tourists. The result is an island that is overcrowded and overrun with tourists, and the real beauty of the island has been consumed by over-commercialism. I think I would love to visit Santorini during the winter or very early spring, when it is less crowded, the pace is much slower and the natural and rugged beauty of the island can be viewed, appreciated and absorbed at a much more leisurely tempo.

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

*Please "click" on any photo to view a much larger image.

ABOVE PHOTO: The caldera of
Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: A house built into
the side of the volcanic cliffs in the
village of Oia on Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: Greek Orthodox
bell tower and dome in the village of
Oia on the island of Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: The village of Oia
sits on the volcanic cliffs above the
caldera on Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: Arch shaped
home bordered by flowers in the
village of Oia with the caldera in
center-right background on Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: A Greek Orthodox
bell tower in the village of Oia on the
island of Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: Two of the most
photographed Greek Orthodox Church
domes in the village of Oia on Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: The "door" to
Santorini?

ABOVE PHOTO: Two of the most
photographed Greek Orthodox
Church domes in the village of
Oia on Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: The capital city of
Fira perches atop the volcanic cliffs of
Santorini overlooking the caldera.

ABOVE PHOTO: Bell and clock
tower and dome of a Greek Orthodox
Church in Fira on Santorini.

ABOVE PHOTO: A
study in shape, shadow
and color. Capital city
of Fira on the island of
Santorini

ABOVE PHOTO: Don't jump!
A statute sits atop a building
housing an art gallery in Fira on
the island of Santorini.

STEVE CROSLOW: A MEMORIAL TRIBUTE

2011-08-24T22:11:00.007+03:00

Dear Friends,

I am saddened to report that one of our dearest members of “Charlie Flight” passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on Saturday, August 20, 2011. Steve Croslow died in Central Point, Oregon after having suffered a heart attack. He had turned 60 years of age, just one week before on August 13, 2011.

I served with Steve on Crete when we were both assigned to the 6931^st Security Group at Iraklion Air Station. We both worked on “Charlie Flight”. But, it wasn’t until 2007 that Steve and I reconnected at the first “Charlie Flight Reunion” in St. Louis, Missouri where I was one of the organizers for that reunion. Then, we both attended the second “Charlie Flight Reunion” in 2010, held once again in St. Louis. During those late night hours (or early morning hours) of the reunion, we would often sit around a table, drinking good beer (or cheap whiskey) and reminisce about the Air Force Security Service, Iraklion Air Station, Crete, and Charlie Flight. But if there was one predominant message that Steve conveyed to me, it was his superlative and unrelenting love for his family. I don’t believe that I have ever met any man more dedicated to being a good father than Steve. It wasn’t just his responsibility – it was his passion.

Steve had the type of personality that made you feel as if you had known him for five years, even though you may have only been talking with him for five minutes. He had a pleasant and warm smile that he eagerly shared with everyone. And when you talked with him, he listened attentively and gave every indication that he was sincerely interested in what you had to say. Beyond that, Steve had a sharp wit, a keen sense of humor, and a genuine talent for playing the guitar. During the “Charlie Flight” reunions of 2007 and 2010, Steve would often entertain us by playing the guitar and singing.

Steve leaves behind two sons, a daughter, and his loving companion, Kaycee…plus those of us who served with him on “Charlie Flight” and had the privilege of meeting, knowing and calling Steve our Friend.

The true success of a man cannot be measured by the size of his house, the number of cars that he owns, or by the number of dollars he has made in his lifetime, but rather by the number of friends he leaves behind. In that regard, Steve was more successful than most of us could ever hope to be. Rest in Peace my Friend - Rest in Peace my Brother.

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

P.S.: Below are some photos which I took at the “Charlie Flight” Reunion of 2010. Click on any photo for a larger image.

ABOVE PHOTO: Steve tees off
while the rest of the
Charlie Flight International
Golf Team looks on with awe!
June 2010

ABOVE PHOTO: Steve Croslow,
far left, poses with the "Charlie Flight"
International Golf Team - June 2010

ABOVE PHOTO: Steve sinks a putt
while others look on with envious
disbelief! June 2010.

ABOVE PHOTO: Steve and Kaycee
enjoy a light moment during the
"Charlie Flight" reunion of 2010.

ABOVE PHOTO: Steve in his element as he strums and
picks his guitar while entertaining "Charlie Flight" - June 2010

ABOVE PHOTO: Steve entertains "Charlie Flight" while
Kaycee looks on - June 2010
Rest in Peace, my Friend!

ASSORTED PHOTOS

2011-08-21T11:09:00.001+03:00

Dear Friends,

What follows is merely a random assortment of photos since I have been here on Crete. I hope you enjoy them. "Click" on any photo for a larger view.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

ABOVE PHOTO: My landlord, Nikitas,
plays the mandolino on his patio at the
La Stella Apartments.

ABOVE PHOTO: My landlord's
friend plays the mandolino on the
patio of the La Stella Apartments.

ABOVE PHOTO: The beach at
Amoudara. Just one block from my
apartment.

ABOVE PHOTO: An older Greek
man near my apartment. Note the
traditional Cretan head covering and
that wonderful mustache!

ABOVE PHOTO: This is the tree
lined street where my apartment is
located - Naxou Street.

15,000 VISITORS

2011-08-12T23:06:00.004+03:00

Dear Friends,

Well, I (or my blog) have reached a milestone of sorts. As of this moment, I have had exactly 15,000 visitors to my blog!!! Can I hear a big "HOORAY"? LOL.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

THE GLASS EYE

2011-08-12T09:22:00.011+03:00

Dear Friends,

He was not your ordinary man. Anyone who would remove his glass eye and place it in the middle of his desk as a signal to others that he had left on a mission could scarcely be called ordinary. Such was John Pendlebury.

John Devitt Stringfellow Pendlebury was born October 12, 1904 in London, the son of a well-known English surgeon. At an early age, Pendlebury lost an eye as the result of an injury. Some said he accidently poked a pencil in his eye, but others maintained he lost it when it became infected after having stumbled into a thorn bush. At any rate, the end result was the same; his eye was removed and replaced with a glass eye. However, in spite of this handicap, John Pendlebury refused to allow it to stand in his way of excelling, both in academics and athletics.

Pendlebury studied archaeology in England; Athens, Greece; and Cairo, Egypt, becoming an expert in both ancient Greek archaeology and Egyptian archaeology. He divided his time between mainland Greece, Egypt, and the Greek island of Crete, but in 1930 he was appointed as Curator of the ruins at Knossos on Crete for the British School of Archaeology in Athens. During this time, Pendlebury learned to speak Greek like a true Cretan, knew all of the mountain village dialects, hiked the length and breadth of the island several times, could out drink any Cretan, and frequently even dressed in traditional Greek clothes, including the very baggy pants which the British called, “crap catchers”. However, his blue eyes, light brown hair, fair skin and decidedly European features betrayed the fact that he was not a true Cretan. Because of the way in which he had adapted to the customs and culture of Crete and even adopted many of the traditional forms of Greek folk lifestyle as his own, some have come to refer to John Pendlebury as a composite of T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) and Indiana Jones. He certainly had a flair for adventure and could often be found wandering the wild, rugged mountain sides of Crete searching for undiscovered Minoan ruins or visiting remote mountain villages and making lasting friendships with the village leaders and elders. But, John Pendlebury’s most exciting and most dangerous adventure lay just ahead.

By the mid-1930’s, the rumors and shadows of war had begun to creep across the European continent, and in 1938, John offered his services to British Intelligence, citing his intimate knowledge of Crete and most of the Greek islands, as well as most of mainland Greece. He also had many personal contacts over the entire Aegean region of the Mediterranean Sea, which would be an invaluable source of intelligence should Great Britain and Germany go to war. His wait was short-lived; when Germany invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, England declared war on Germany. World War Two had begun!

In early 1940, John was summoned to England where he was commissioned as an officer in the British Army and received instruction in courses of intelligence gathering, sabotage, commando training and how to organize groups of resistance fighters who could fight from the mountains of Crete in the event of an invasion by either Italy or Germany. When he returned to Crete in June of 1940, he had also been appointed as British Vice-Consul to Crete, which would now serve as his official cover. After mainland Greece was invaded by the Germans on April 6, 1941, Pendlebury knew it would be only a matter of time before Crete was also invaded. And then, on the early morning hours of May 20, 1941, the German invasion of Crete began, first with intensive bombing, followed with paratroop drops at the airfields of Maleme, Chania, and Heraklion, followed closely by support troop and equipment landings in gliders. Pendlebury dressed in his Captain’s uniform, grabbed his sword cane, and made his way to the Brigade Headquarters located deep in a cave, where he met briefly with other officers before making his way to the Chania Gate, which was a part of the ancient, massive Venetian fortifications that surrounded the old city of Heraklion. His intent was to encourage and rally the Cretan recruits defending the Chania Gate before making his way up into the mountain village of Krousonas to join the other resistance fighters. John had already selected three impressive Cretan “kapetans” who were old fighters, heads of their clans, and widely respected for their leadership and tenacious fighting abilities. These three men and their attendant bands of armed guerilla fighters became known to the Germans as “Pendlebury’s Thugs”.

The following day, Pendlebury left the Chania Gate and, while shooting and fighting his way out of Heraklion, was severely wounded. One report said that he was wounded by a German Stuka aircraft, but another said that he was shot by German paratroopers. At any rate, he received a serious wound to his chest and was taken to a house near Heraklion for care. Once in the house, his uniform was removed so that his wounds might be dressed and bandaged. A doctor was summoned. A short time later a patrol of German soldiers arrived at the house. When the German officer in charge discovered this wounded English soldier out of uniform, he declared that Pendlebury should be shot as a spy. It was said the wounded Pendlebury was dragged from the house, propped up against a wall, and then executed. His body was placed in an unmarked grave, as many others were at that time, and then forgotten. Shortly afterwards, the battle for Crete was over, and the Germans set up occupation.

But then, something remarkable began to happen. Reports started to come in of brazen guerilla attacks on German patrols led by a tall, fair-skinned man dressed in traditional Greek attire with a patch covering one eye. He wore a long silver-handled Cretan dagger held close to his body with a wide sash. He fought like a buccaneer - showing no mercy and taking no prisoners. He seemed to be everywhere at once – he was seen on the south side of the island and at the same time in the White Mountains and on the same day in the Lasithi plains of central Crete. He was like a phantom – a ghost which struck and then seemed to evaporate into thin air like the morning mist. Hitler was enraged! He demanded that the body of Pendlebury be located, dug up, and the glass eye plucked from its socket and sent to him. Greek peasants were ordered to exhume the graves and then stick their fingers into the eye sockets to see if any one of them contained a glass eye. Soon a body was found that reportedly had a glass eye. That glass eye was sent to Hitler, and it was said that Hitler kept it on his bedside stand until his death. But, John Pendlebury was not the only British soldier on Crete who had a glass eye.

Today, at Souda Bay in the British War Cemetery on Crete, there is a gravestone which reads, “Captain J. D. S. Pendlebury”. But, does the grave contain the remains of a man…or does it hold only a glass eye? You decide.

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

P.S.: Click on any photo for a larger image.

ABOVE PHOTO: Bob Armistead kneels
behind the grave of John Pendlebury in the
Souda Bay War Cemetery for fallen World
War Two British soldiers, airmen and seamen.

ABOVE PHOTO: The grave of John
D.S. Pendlebury at the British World
War Two Cemetery at Souda Bay, Crete.

SOUDA BAY WAR CEMETERY

2011-08-10T10:58:00.005+03:00

Dear Friends,

Recently, I traveled to Souda Bay on Crete with my friends from

Northern Ireland

, Paul and Karen, and Karen’s sons, Colin and Luke. It was a hot and sunny day as we traveled west toward Chania. When we rounded a bend in the narrow, twisting road, the Bay of Souda opened up before us. It is a natural bay and provides a perfect shelter for the ships of the Greek Navy, as well as those ships that are deployed under the banner of N.A.T.O. But, our real mission wasn’t to view the harbor or the ships going in and out. We were on a more serious…a more somber mission. Paul and Karen were taking me to visit the Souda Bay War Cemetery where over 1,500 men of the British Commonwealth rest. These are the men who fell while defending the island against the German invasion of Crete during the Second World War.

The cemetery sits at the far northwestern corner of Souda Bay. Its tranquil setting masquerades the horror and terror these men must have faced during the onslaught of the German invasion. Some of these young men were little more than boys…but they must be admired for their loyalty and patriotism for answering their Country’s call to duty.

When we stepped just inside the iron gates to the cemetery, I immediately knew that we were all standing upon hallowed ground…ground that had been sanctified by the blood of their countrymen. But, in a much greater sense, they were also MY countrymen as well…after all

Great Britain

and the

United States

were allies working toward the common goal of ridding the world from the blight of Nazism and Fascism. I knew that none of us was worthy to set so much as one foot upon that ground, but I felt a beckoning…a call from these men: “Come in. Walk amongst us. Stand beside us. Just never forget us or the sacrifices we made”. As I looked out, I could see nothing but row upon row of identical white stones, each marking the final resting place of these valiant men. It seemed a tragic irony that these men who died such violent deaths and so far from home should be settled in such a peaceful, blissful setting.

As I wandered amongst the stones, sometimes stopping to read a name here or a tribute there, I couldn’t help but notice how well-maintained and well-groomed the cemetery was. It could hardly be said the grass was mowed and trimmed - it was more like it had been manicured with the greatest care and with the utmost attention. There were also flowers and beautiful plants growing between each stone. The flowers, shrubs and bushes helped to create a more colorful and uplifting backdrop for the final resting place of these men.

As I walked from stone to stone, from row to row, from section to section, I seemed to lose track of time. But, time wasn’t really relevant – not really important…after all, time for these 1,500 men has stopped. All of these men, both young and old, have sacrificed all of their tomorrows for what they were able to do then and there. And the very least that we can do, is to pause and spend a little of our time in quiet recognition and appreciation for the terrible sacrifices they made. Rest in Peace my Brothers and may God hold you in the palms of His hands for all Eternity!

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

ABOVE PHOTO: The
Cross and Sword stand
watch over the British
Commonwealth World
War Two Cemetery at
Souda Bay, Crete.

ABOVE PHOTO: Entrance to
the BritishCommonwealth World War
Two Cemetery at Souda Bay, Crete.

ABOVE PHOTO: Stone after stone,
row after row...British World War
Two Cemetery at Souda Bay, Crete.

ABOVE PHOTO: A flower or plant
adorns either side of every stone at the
British World War Two Cemetery at
Souda Bay, Crete.

ABOVE PHOTO: British World War
Two soldiers, airmen and seamen rest in
the Souda Bay War Cemetery.

ABOVE PHOTO: 1,500 soldiers of
the British Commonwealth lie in quiet
repose in Souda Bay War Cemetary.

ABOVE PHOTO: Some of the
beautiful flowers that adorn each
gravesite at the British World War
Two Cemetery at Souda Bay, Crete.

POPI'S TAVERNA: The Crossroads of the World

2011-08-01T20:07:00.034+03:00

Dear Friends,

Over the years, I have had the privilege to eat at many fine dineries across the world. Some had great food…and others, well, let’s just say the food was not so great. And, I have paid exorbitant prices just for the honor of sitting in a 4 or 5 star restaurant and eating 1 star food but still paying the 4 or 5 star prices!

But I must confess, the places I enjoy the most are those with the most simple furnishings, sitting with common folk (like myself), and eating the simplest of foods. One such place located here in the little seaside village of Amoudara is Popi’s Taverna. Now, Popi refers to it as Mavrakis Beach and I think that probably is the “official” name. But, over the years, my friends and I have come to call it simply…Popi’s Taverna or just "Popi's". I first went to Popi’s Taverna in 2008. By 2009 I had become a regular customer of Popi’s. I clearly remember one afternoon, after I had finished a cold Mythos beer, I asked Popi if I could have another. In her very sweet manner and in her Greek accent she answered, “Bobby, please make yourself feel at home here. If you want another beer, please just get up and get it yourself from the cooler.” At that moment, I knew that I had been accepted into Popi’s family of customers and that I was one of them!

Popi’s little taverna is located about a block (perhaps less) from my apartment, at the end of Naxou Street where the road runs into the Mediterranean Sea. If you get your feet wet, then you know that you have gone too far and need to back up a little. There, in a little non-descript, whitewashed building on the right side of the road sits Popi’s Taverna. Her taverna is furnished simply and unpretentious – the chairs are a white plastic and the tables are metal and covered with white enamel. Popi rents out spaces on her beach complete with beach umbrellas, sun beds and small tables upon which drinks or food can be placed while catching some “rays”. Inside the covered, but open-air space of her taverna, one can order cold beer, assorted juices, soft drinks, chilled wine, raki and coffee. Popi also has a little freezer with various ice creams treats. If you are hungry, don’t ask for a menu – there isn’t one. But, Popi will tell you that she can prepare a nice Greek salad, or an omelet, or a sandwich - usually ham and cheese on a toasted baguette and dressed with only the freshest of tomatoes, onions and green peppers. But…but…but, if you talk to Popi really nice…give her a big smile…and ask her in the nicest of tones, you might…just might be able to persuade Popi to fix you one of the finest…most delicious…tastiest fish filet dinners that has ever delighted your palate! I am not sure what kind if fish it is…perhaps sole…perhaps something else. But, it has the most pleasant taste – not an over-powering fishy taste, but a mild flavor that will have your taste buds begging for more!!! Popi fries it in olive oil to perfection, places it on the plate with an order of freshly cut and fried potatoes and a few tomato slices along with a soft baguette of bread. A glass of white wine provides a nice accompaniment to the meal. All of my friends who have ever gone down to Popi’s with me and sampled her fish filet dinner have agreed that it is one of the tastiest, most delightful fish filet dinners ever eaten!

Another of the reasons that I enjoy going to Popi’s Taverna is the people I meet there. There are always people from distant countries who have come to Crete on their vacation, and at any one time there can be people from several different countries sitting together and enjoying each other’s company under the roof of Popi’s Taverna. That is why I often refer to Popi’s Taverna as…The Crossroads of the World! I really enjoy sitting there talking with travelers from other countries and learning about their customs and their cultures. Under the roof of Popi’s Taverna we truly all become brothers and sisters in the family of Mankind!

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

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

ABOVE PHOTO: One of the large
bamboo umbrellas that can be
sat under at Popi's Taverna.

ABOVE PHOTO: Popi's Taverna at
the end of Naxou street.

ABOVE PHOTO: A few people

enjoy a cold drink and relax under

the cover of Popi's Taverna. Popi

is seated far left and often joins

her customers in conversation.

ABOVE PHOTO: An elderly Greek
gentleman enjoys a cup of Popi's freshly
made coffee.

ABOVE PHOTO: Sunbathers enjoy
laying out on Popi Mavraki's beach in
front of her little taverna.

ABOVE PHOTO: Sunbathers on Popi
Mavraki's beach enjoy the late
afternoon sun.

ABOVE PHOTO: One of Popi's beautiful
Greek salads topped with only the very
best feta cheese along with a baguette of
bread and a chilled glass of wine.

ABOVE PHOTO: Popi proudly
displays her famous fish filet dinner.
This has got to be the best fish dinner
in all of Greece!!!

ABOVE PHOTO: This fish filet
dinner only lasted a few minutes
after this photo was taken!

ABOVE PHOTO: A chilled glass of wine
at Popi's Taverna. Notice the beach umbrellas
in the background and those same umbrellas
upside down in the glass of wine!

WHO WAS RIGHT: Zorba or the Old Man?

2011-07-11T20:46:00.011+03:00

Dear Friends,

A few years ago, I became enamored with a book written by Nikos Kazantzakis. In its original Greek text it was known as, "THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ALEXIS ZORBA". But, when it was translated into English, it became known as simply, "ZORBA THE GREEK". In about 1964 it was made into a movie by the same name which starred Anthony Quinn and Alan Bates.

When I was partially through reading the book for the second or third time, I came to the realization that, "ZORBA THE GREEK", was not just a work of fiction - it was also a book of philosophy. I should have realized this from the beginning, as Nikos Kazantzakis was also a great philosopher in addition to being a great writer.

At any rate, I have a question that I would like to pose to those of you who follow and read my blog. It is not a trick question...and it probably has no "right" or "wrong" answer. But I am seriously interested in what your response will be to my question.

At one point in the book, Zorba comes upon an old man who is planting an almond tree. Astonished, Zorba exclaims, "What? Grandpa! Planting an almond tree at your age?" Zorba was inferring that at the old man's age, he would never live to see the tree produce a single almond. The old man looked up at Zorba and replied, "My son, I live every day as if I shall never die." To which Zorba responded, "Hah! I live every day as if I shall die any minute!" I think the philosophical question raised is this: Which of them was right? The old man for saying that he lived every day as if he would never die? Or Zorba, for saying that he lived every day as if he would die any moment?

As I said earlier, there is no "right" or "wrong" answer. Please leave your answer, response or comment below by clicking the word that reads, "Comments", below. After several of you have left your answers (or comments), I will post my answer to the same question in the "Comments" section below. I do value your answers and comments! Thanks in advance for participating in this little survey.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

Safely on Crete...with JET LAG!!!

2011-07-07T19:00:00.006+03:00

Dear Friends,

Many of us take along needless items when we travel which usually results in over-packing. With the additional costs levied against those whose baggage weight exceeds the limits established by the airline, this can be a costly move. Just three pounds over the 50 pound limit could have resulted in an additional $400+ fee being added to my travel expenses. So, over the years I have managed to trim my needs to a bare minimum, which is no easy task in view of the fact that I must take enough provisions to last me for an entire three month period of time. However, there is one item that so far I have not been able to shed or leave behind - jet lag! Yes....JET LAG! I have attempted many diverse remedies in what appears thus far to be a futile drive to eliminate jet lag. At the recommendation of others I have eaten only a light meal before taking off, and at the insistance of other travel "experts", I have eaten a very large meal prior to take off...so large in fact that I was fearful I might be charged additional fees for the added weight. Neither of these worked. I was told that two or three (or four+) stiff drinks before takeoff would eliminate jet lag, but I was afraid that it might eliminate my trip altogether - plus, I might board the wrong aircraft and end up in a third-world country like Bangladesh or North Dakota. Others have told me that taking a sleeping pill after the aircraft has taken off would work wonders, but I was concerned that in the event of a complete aircraft failure, I might just sleep through the whole damn thing and miss all of the excitement! Another told me that going to the rear of the aircraft and doing leg squats and knee bends would aid in preventing jet lag. But after doing this, the airline attendents begin whispering and pointing in my direction while making notes in a small black book. So this year, in an act of desperation, I did the following: I ate a very small meal before departing Nashville, and after arriving in Newark, New Jersey, I ate a very large meal. Then after boarding the plane, I immediately went to the lavatory and purged myself (that is "polite" talk for self-induced vomiting). After returning to my seat I popped a sleeping pill followed by the 3 or 4 stiff drinks previously mentioned. Then while I was still barely able to stagger, I removed myself to the rear of the aircraft where I proceeded to do the knee lifts and leg bends, just before collapsing into a twisted wreckage of human limbs and body parts. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Athens airport. Now I know what you are about to ask: Did it cure my jet lag? Are you crazy?! Why, Hell no it didn't cure my jet lag, but it sure took my mind off it!!!

If any of you should have any suggestions for eliminating jet lag...please keep them to yourself!

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

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SCOTTY!

2011-06-21T07:05:00.003+03:00

Dear Scotty,

I realize that you will probably never read this post or even see it. However, I would certainly be remiss if I did not pause on this day...your day...to wish you a Happy Birthday. It was on June 20, 1939 that you were born. Today you are 72 years of age. If I were on Crete, I might not be able to bring you a birthday cake, but I would certainly bring you a freshly baked pastry and sit with you and reminisce about your earlier years on Crete at Matala. Perhaps some kind soul on Crete might read this post and visit you at the monastery and help you celebrate this most important milestone of yours.

So, in closing, I would hope that today you would be at peace with yourself and the whole world, and further, that all of your memories of Matala would be the most pleasant of memories. And, lastly, and most importantly, please know that you are remembered and held in high esteem by all those who have met and known...the Last Hippie of Matala!

Your Friend,

Bob Armistead

RETURN TO CRETE: 2011

2011-06-15T04:09:00.007+03:00

Dear Friends,

Well, a year has passed since my last visit to Crete and many of you have been inquiring if I intend to return to Crete again this year. The answer to that question is a resounding, "YES!" I will leave Nashville, Tennessee on July 1, 2011 for Newark, New Jersey. From there I will fly to Athens, Greece, arriving there on the morning of July 2, 2011. I will depart Athens and arrive at Heraklion International Airport by mid-afternoon of that same day. From the Heraklion airport I will take a bus to the little seaside village of Amoudara, where I will be staying for the next three months. Amoudara is located just six kilometers to the west of Heraklion and is quite centrally located. I will once again be staying at the La Stella Apartments in Amoudara. I am looking forward to seeing my landlords again...Stella And Nikitas. They are kind and thoughtful people, and make me feel like I am family...and not just a tenant.

Once I have settled in, I am looking forward to walking down to Popi's little taverna which is located at the very end of Naxou Street and right on the beach. I can hardly wait to have a frosted glass filled to the top with good cold Mythos beer. Often I will sit in a chair with my feet propped up on a white-washed stone wall and lean back while sipping my Mythos beer, all the while watching the waves roll in from the Mediterranean Sea. I think the main reason I enjoy Popi's taverna so much is because of its simplicity and it unpretentiousness. I also like the fact that people from all over the world stop by Popi's...some to talk...some to eat...and some to drink. Popi's taverna is truly a crossroads of the World!

So, perhaps you are wondering what it is that I will be doing on Crete this year. It is my intent to do even more than I did in 2008, 2009, and even last year, 2010. However, this year I have decided to try my hand at snorkeling. I have purchased a diving mask with prescription lens...actually bi-focal lens...just in case I want to read the Wall Street Journal underwater! Ha! Ha! I have also bought an underwater digital camera. This way I can photograph the shark just before it devours me! I also hope to visit some of the more remote mountain villages on Crete this year, as well as some of the other Greek islands. I may also take a little side trip to Turkey, if all works out well.

So, please check back here often for additional entries, more photographs, and perhaps even a surprise or two!

Take care, stay well, and keep in touch.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

"HELLO...MY NAME IS BOB, AND..."

2010-09-25T23:40:00.016+03:00

Dear Friends,

Well, I only have five more days left on Crete. I am as nervous about leaving Crete as a man on death row who is about to be executed! I have become fidgety and restless. Tonight, I wandered around the little seaside village of Amoudara, looking for anyone I might know, just to tell them that I only have five days left here!!!

I think I have come to recognize my problem: I am a "Crete-O-Holic"!!! Yes, I know what you are thinking, "Bob, how did you let yourself slip into the depths of becoming a "Crete-O-Holic?" I don't know how it happened...it just slipped up on me...and before I knew it...Crete had me in its grasp!!! I think that I first became a "Crete-O-Holic" on my first and only assignment to Iraklion Air Station in late 1968. After my first 18 months were drawing to a close, I requested, and was granted a one-year extension. Then, as that extension was drawing to a close, I requested, and was granted a two-month extension. I left Crete in August of 1971 after having spent 2 years, 8 months here on Crete. You would think that I would have had my fill of Crete, but Crete had become my drug of choice! I was hooked and Crete had me in its grip!

I returned to Crete in 2008 for a three month "fix", but that only primed my hunger for more! So, I came back again in 2009, hoping that my three month visit would quell any future desires for Crete, but I just wasn't satisfied. So, I returned for a third visit...this time realizing that I was hopelessly a..."Crete-O-Holic"!!!

I really believe there should be a support group created just for us...Crete-O-Holics Anonymous, or CA for short. However, CA should not be confused with California or with Clarksville Academy!!! It would be a support group created by us...and for us. I can just picture the attendance of my first meeting there. After an opening prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance to the American Flag, the members of Crete-O-Holics Anonymous would be required to stand and introduce themselves. I would stand, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other, all the while wringing and twisting my sweaty hands together, and then in a somewhat shaky voice, I would say, "Hello. My name is Bob. And, I'm a "Crete-O-Holic." At that moment, there would be a chorus from all the others seated in a circle around me who would echo in unison, "Hello, Bob." And, then, I would know that I was among friends!

I don't think there is a known cure for those of us who are "Crete-O-Holics", and, quite frankly, I hope there never will be. The most that we can do is gather in places like CreteStock Yahoo Group or in small groups like reunions, or if any of us are really fortunate we can actually make a return visit to Crete. But in our little groups of Crete-O-Holics Anonymous, we can lean on each other and share our concerns and address questions that may have no answers. But, it is somewhat reassuring to know there are others out there who are as addicted to Crete as the rest of us! So, when your mind begins to wander...and your thoughts become consumed with nothing but Crete, just remember...you are not alone!!!

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

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

SCOTTY: THE QUEST FOR MATALA'S LAST HIPPIE

2010-09-08T22:13:00.031+03:00

Dear Friends,

I am sure that many of you have heard or read about noble quests which have been pursued throughout history - some were spiritual, some were historical, and others were for treasure. There was the quest for the Holy Grail, the quest for Shangri La, the search for El Dorado, the search for the Ark of the Covenant, the search for Black Beard's gold and for Captain Kidd's treasure. Well, I have embarked on a quest of sorts. Many of you may think it is frivolous..a waste of time. But, when my attention is grasped and I think there may be a story buried or a mystery to be uncovered, I delve into it with great fervor.

I'm sure when you were on Crete, at one time or another you probably heard others talking about the hippies at Matala who were living in the caves there. It was Life Magazine which first ran a story with photos in 1968 about a number of young people called "hippies", who were living in caves at the little seaside village of Matala on the southern coast of Crete. But, of course, the caves weren't really caves at all, but rather Roman tombs. These young hippies had moved into the caves (tombs) to live their idyllic lifestyle. There were even reports that piles of bones, topped with human skulls, could be found in some of the caves. However, finally recognizing the historical and archaeological importance of these Roman tombs, the hippies had been forced to vacate the caves (tombs) years ago, probably in the mid or late 1970's. At any rate, sometime around October of 2009, I accidentally stumbled across a photograph on the internet entitled, "The Last Hippie at Matala", which was on Matala: Hippies and Real Fun on Facebook. I borrowed that photograph, along with some earlier photographs of the hippies at Matala and posted them on my blog in October 2009, along with some of my own photos of the caves and Matala after having visited there. Later I received an E-Mail from someone who had read my blog and claimed to know Scotty, the last hippie at Matala. NOTE: It should be pointed out here that Scotty is also variously known as Scotti, Skotty, or Skotti. The first report was that Scotty has passed away about a year earlier, but later this report was proven incorrect. Subsequently, it was reported that Scotty was suffering from ill health and a possible stroke, and was living in a home for the aged in the Iraklion area. But, around July 10, 2010, I received a link to a short video of a birthday gathering for Scotty in Matala. I was able to make contact with the man who shot the video. He stated that he believed Scotty was now living in a rest home for the elderly in the area of Mires, not far from Matala. Sensing the importance of documenting the significance of Scotty's life as the last hippie at Matala, I set out on a quest to track him down.

I took a bus to Matala shortly after mid-July 2010. When I arrived in Matala, I began to inquire of shop owners if any of them knew a man called, "Scotty". To my amazement, they all knew Scotty. The entire village of Matala was on a first name basis with Scotty! It seemed Scotty was a celebrity of sorts. I have been aware of only a few people who have ever been known only by their first name to the masses - Jesus, Napoleon, Elvis, and now...Scotty. When I asked the whereabouts of Scotty, no one seemed to know anything definitive. One older Greek gentleman said that Scotty was in Mires; a young woman said he was in a home for old people near Iraklion; and, at least two others said that he was in a monastery, being cared for by monks. I was told if anyone knew where Scotty was, it would be a man named, Franck. Franck apparently was a very close friend of Scotty's. When I asked where I might find Franck, I was told that he could usually be found walking down the main street in Matala. I had no idea what Franck looked like, but I was told it would be easy to spot him. He had long hair, an unkempt appearance, and was hobbling on a crutch due to a recent leg injury. I entered a small taverna on the main street in Matala, ordered a Cretan salad, a cold Mythos beer, and waited...and waited. It was a hot day and not much air was circulating in downtown Matala, so I ordered another Mythos. The second one tasted even better than the first...and colder, too! After having waited there for the better part of two hours, I came to the conclusion that either I had missed Franck, or else he had already come and gone. I left the taverna and began to wander around Matala, looking for anyone on a crutch or a cane...or even limping. But, I didn't see anyone who even remotely matched the description of Franck. I took the next bus out of Matala bound for Iraklion, arriving there in late afternoon. Then, I caught the Number 6 bus near Bus Station "B" for Amoudara. I arrived back at my apartment, hot, tired and disappointed that I had not come away from Matala with the knowledge of Scotty's location. I actually began to wonder if perhaps the people of Matala were trying to keep "outsiders" from learning the whereabouts of their beloved Scotty - as if they were attempting to protect him. Maybe they had even given me false or misleading information in an effort to direct me away from Scotty...to put me on a false trail. At that point I decided I needed to enlist the help of some my friends who lived here on Crete and to ask for their assistance. First I talked with friends of mine who owned a local hotel in Amoudara, and also with my very good friend, Miltiadis (Miltos). Miltos said that he would inquire of others about a monastery near Iraklion that cared for elderly people. Time passed. In the meantime, I was getting ready for Crete Reunion 2010. At our initial dinner on the evening of August 22, 2010, one of the wives of a former airman who was stationed at Iraklion Air Station, attempted to locate Scotty, but she didn't have any real success. Then, on August 26, 2010, Jim and Pat Janakes and I drove to Phaestos to visit the ancient archaeological ruins and then drove on to Matala. After taking several photos of the caves (Roman tombs) at Matala, we decided to have a drink and a little noonday snack at a small taverna just off the wooden walkway to the tombs. While there, I asked our waiter if he perhaps knew Scotty. Yes, he knew him, but he didn't know where Scotty was. Next, I asked if he knew Franck. He pointed to a small group of people seated on the ground just off the end of his taverna. "Franck," he called out, and then spoke something in Greek which I didn't understand. One man, seated on the ground, motioned for me to come over. He had a small crutch laying beside him. I approached him, introduced myself and asked if he knew Scotty. He nodded yes. I then asked if he knew where Scotty was and that I wanted to visit him. Franck told me the name of the place where Scotty was living and being cared for. When I returned to Amoudara that afternoon, I was told by a hotel proprietor that he had located the monastery in which Scotty was staying. He told me the name of the facility...it was the same name that Franck in Matala had given me. Finally, I felt as if I were finally closing in on Scotty - the last hippie at Matala!

On the evening of Monday, August 30, 2010, I received an E-Mail from an American friend of mine living here on Crete. He said that he knew exactly where Scotty was being cared for, and would arrive the next morning just after 9:30 A.M. to to take me to the monastery. And, true to his word, the following morning just after 9:30 A.M., Joe pulled up on his little Honda motorbike. Now, I wasn't really sure about riding on the back of a motorbike through Iraklion traffic, and I wondered if it was a bad omen when Joe and I pulled away from the front of my apartment with Joe wearing a helmet, and the only thing separating me from Eternity was only a thin layer of my hair that would act as a cushion between my skull and the pavement. However, I must admit that Joe knew the traffic and possessed the necessary skills to navigate safely. After only a couple of wrong turns, we pulled up in front of the Church. Around to the left side of the Church were signs that pointed to "Girokomeo", or a facility for elderly people. I followed the flight of stairs upward to a second story level. Through the double doors, I could see a long corridor lined with elderly people, most sitting in either chairs or on sofas in the hallway. The door was locked, so we proceeded downward in an attempt to find an alternate entrance. About that time, we heard the sound of doors being unlocked above. A white-haired man stood at the double doorways at the top of the stairs. I hurried upward, fearing that he might relock the doors before I had a chance to enter. I quickly stepped through the double doors and asked him, "Do you speak English?" He smiled, "Yes, a little." "Do you know a man named, Scotty?" I asked. "Yes," and then looking down the hallway, he called out, "Scotty!" He led us down the corridor to a man seated in a chair beside a sofa. The man was wearing a ball cap, had mostly white hair, light blue eyes, a scruffy beard and a toothless grin. I looked at him. "Are you Scotty?" I asked. "Yes, I am Scotty." At long last I had found the last hippie at Matala. I asked him if I could talk with him about his days at Matala. At first he seemed a little hesitant...almost reluctant, but then, as he began to open up, his light blue eyes danced about the room as he laughed and reminisced about a time long ago. He told me that he was born in 1940, but on my second visit with Scotty on September 3, 2010, he told me that he was born on June 20, 1939. This date was substantiated from a short biography about Scotty which I found online. From this same biography, I learned that Scotty's first name was actually Hans. Scotty told me that he was born in Scotland of a Scottish mother and a German father. During World War Two, Scotty's father organized resistance and fought against the Nazi regime. After the end of World War Two, Scotty and his parents moved to Germany where Scotty was raised and educated. I asked Scotty what year he first arrived in Matala. He told me that he first visited Matala at age eighteen (1957) with an uncle who had come to Crete on business, but he did not actually come to live at Matala until 1964 - at that time he would have been either twenty-four or twenty-five. I asked Scotty if he remembered any of those who had lived with him in the caves at Matala. He smiled and said that he remembered many of them, and even recalled the caves in which some of them had lived, but many of them were now dead. He reminded me there were many who had lived in the caves at Matala, and there was a constant coming and going of people. Some, who had been living there in the caves awhile became disillusioned with the hippie lifestyle and left, while others who were disillusioned with the lifestyle of the world sought refuge in the caves at Matala and to live the hippie lifestyle of free love, peace and flower power. So, apparently, there was a frequent turnover of tenants in the caves, but the rent was cheap and Scotty stayed on. I inquired of Scotty how he made money while living at Matala. He said, "I made jewelry and sold paintings." I learned that Scotty had actually studied art in Sweden and France. He told me that sometimes he would sell as many as four or five paintings in a day. "Good money," he said, smiling, as he rubbed the ends of his four fingers and thumb together.

Around Scotty's neck hung a small wooden cross and a long iron key almost five inches long. "Did you make the cross, Scotty?" I asked. "Yes, that was some of the jewelry I made at Matala," he replied. "And what is that key hanging around your neck?" I asked, pointing at the key dangling on a thin cord. "That is the key to my house in Matala," Scotty responded. "One day I will return." He gently caressed the key in his hand, almost as if it had feelings.

At one point during our interview, an elderly woman shuffled to Scotty's side. He reached up and slid his arm around her waist. "How do you like my hippie woman?" he asked, smiling. I couldn't help but smile myself. "Scotty, I like her just fine," I responded. Then the old woman reached around and with an unparalleled act of gentle kindness, softly stroked the side of Scotty's face. I don't believe that I have ever witnessed a kinder, more gentler act of affection than what I observed at that moment.

There were moments during the interview when I saw Scotty glancing wistfully out the window, while at the same time gently touching the large iron key that hung round his neck. But it didn't appear as if Scotty were looking at something in the courtyard or even in the garden below. His gaze seemed transfixed on something far away, perhaps on Matala, and perhaps to an era of youthful days that have long since evaporated like the morning mist.

Whether I agree or disagree with the counter-cultural, anti-establishment hippie philosophy of peace, love and flower power, is completely irrelevant. The hippie movement had a dramatic and international impact on war, peace, and everything that fell in between the two. I have to admire Scotty that he stuck with his convictions and never abandoned them. It would have been easy for him to have left Matala, just as all the rest eventually did. But he never deserted Matala or the hippie philosophy, even though he had been deserted by all the others who had come and gone in Matala.

When I left and walked through the garden and courtyard beneath the large building where Scotty now lived, I turned and looked up at the window under which Scotty and I had been seated. I couldn't help but feel that somehow Scotty's heart and spirit would always remain at Matala. As I walked away from the monastery, I think that I came to the realization that Scotty would never really die; he would just gradually fade into the tapestry woven from the threads of his very colorful life.

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

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

P.S.: Many thanks to George, Irini, Joe, Maro, and Miltos for your assistance in helping me locate Scotty and get to the monastery.

NOTE: Click on any photo to get a larger image.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: August 31, 2010 - Scotty, the last hippie of Matala.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: August 31, 2010 - Scotty (L) and Bob Armistead (R) enjoy a light moment during the interview.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: September 3, 2010 - Scotty, the last hippie of Matala, tilts his head to one side as he ponders an answer to a question.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: September 3, 2010 - Scotty, proudly shows off a wooden cross he carved while at Matala, and a large iron key to his home in Matala.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: September 3, 2010 - Scotty (R) slips his arm around an older lady at the home, then smiles and asks, "How do you like my hippie woman?"

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: September 3, 2010 - In response, Scotty's hippie woman, gently pats the side of his face.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: September 3, 2010 - Scotty (L), Matala's last hippie, and Bob Armistead (R) pose for one last photo together.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: September 3, 2010 - The monastery building in which Scotty now lives.

CRETE REUNION 2010

2010-08-30T16:59:00.047+03:00

Dear Friends,

On the evening of August 22, 2010 at 7:00 P.M., Crete Reunion 2010 was kicked off at Uncle George's Taverna in the little seaside village of Amoudara. The first to arrive were Jim and Pat Janakes. Jim was assigned to Iraklion Air Station for 18 months during the years 1961-1962. Jim was trained as a 202 at Goodfellow Air Force Base in San Angelo, Texas, and was first assigned to Okinawa before being transferred to work in the Security Compound at Iraklion Air Station. Jim currently owns his own business in California and is semi-retired. It should be noted that Jim was born in the USA, but to Greek parents. So, Jim is 100% Greek and still remembers many Greek words learned while growing up with his Greek parents and Grandparents. Jim and Pat had already arrived at Uncle George's Taverna before I arrived, and Kostas Sakoulakis, the owner of Uncle George's Taverna, had introduced himself and was talking with Jim and Pat when I walked in. The next to arrive were John and Jane Cocuzzi. John was trained as a medic, arrived at Iraklion Air Station in 1975 and was assigned to the Base Clinic. John got out of the Air Force after his first four year term, went back to school, got his degree in medicine, re-entered the Air Force as a doctor and retired after 20 years. John now works as a doctor for a community health service in San Angelo, Texas. The last to arrive were Joe and Maro Gussman. It would probably be easier to say when Joe was not assigned to Iraklion Air Station, then when he was assigned there. Joe served at Iraklion Air Station during the late 1950's, during the 1960's, the 1970's and the 1980's. He retired from the Air Force and has remained on Crete. We had a very nice dinner at Uncle George's Taverna and as we ate and drank, we shared many war stories from our respective times on Crete. But, even though we served on Crete at different times and in different career fields, there was that common link of Iraklion Air Station and Crete which inexplicably fused us together in a common bond of brotherhood and friendship!!! After about three and a half hours together, we said our "Goodbyes" and parted for the night.

On the morning of Monday, August 23, 2010, Jim & Pat Janakes met John & Jane Cocuzzi and myself just inside the main gate at Iraklion Air Station. We first proceeded to the Security Compound. It was an eerie feeling as we passed through the little guard shack. It seemed as if Jim and I should have been calling out a badge number so we could pass through, but there were no Security Policemen there, just shadows of memories that played through our minds. I had brought two mini maglites with me and John had brought a flashlight as well. I led the way into the north end of the building, and down a long hallway before turning left. Then, after several yards, I turned right and into the "Operations Room". It was empty, except for panels that had fallen from the ceiling and debris that had been scattered about the floor. For Jim and me, it brought back many memories...memories of men sitting at manual typewriters while monitoring radio receivers, of linguists hastily writing on tablets of paper, of analysts running reports to the front desk, and of X2's operating a myriad of automatic equipment. For John, it was the first time for him to have been in the Operations Building...the Security Compound...the Compound...or just the Pound. As a medic assigned to the Base Clinic, he had seen a number of "ditty boppers" who had suffered stress related problems. And, even though he had his own ideas about what transpired inside the Pound, he had only a general idea of the work that went on inside the building with no windows! From there we went to the Base Clinic. It was somewhat larger than what both Jim and I remembered it. John took us on a little walk-through tour of the clinic, explaining which rooms were used for what purposes. We went to the back of the building where the Emergency Room was located. John showed us the doors through which patients would be wheeled in on stretchers. I can't imagine having to make split-second, life or death decisions. I am glad it was John working there...and not me! From there we walked to the Airmen's Dining Hall. Apparently, sometime shortly before closing the base, there were extensive renovations made to the chow hall. The serving line formed a very large "J" shape, the kitchen had been enlarged, and the dining room was dramatically smaller. At either end of the dining room was an area which was elevated. It looked as if it could have been used as a small stage; perhaps they had live entertainment on some days. Next we proceeded to the barracks where John and Jim had both lived during their respective tours at I.A.S., Building #304. John took a few photos of his room, and Jim returned on a later day to do the same. Jim had memories of marathon card games going on in the room directly across the hall from his room. Our last stop was where the flag poles once stood. The poles are gone now, and much of the splendid adornment around where the flag poles once stood has been damaged or destroyed by vandals. We all remembered how quickly we hurried between buildings as it was approaching 4:30 P.M. If we were outside when the national anthems of Greece and the USA were played, we had to stand at attention until the flags were lowered. How I would love to see the Greek and American flags waving side by side again and to hear those anthems played at the close of the work day! We left Iraklion Air Station and drove west about three miles to Kokkini Chani where we all had lunch together at a little taverna just yards from the shore. The shade and gentle breeze provided a needed respite from the sun and the heat. After lunch, Jim and Pat had to drive into Iraklion to get some Euros, while John, Jane, and I returned to Amoudara. John had already begun having problems with his back. So, he and Jane returned to the MariRena Hotel to rest, and I returned to my little apartment. Later that evening as John and Jane were returning from Popi's little taverna, they stopped by my apartment and joined me on the patio for a little raki.

On August 24, 2010, we all left Amoudara at about 4:00 P.M. and drove to the little mountain village of Anogia. We stopped in the village square to read a commemorative plaque which read: "Order of the German Commander of the Garrison of Crete: Since the town of Anogia is a centre of the English espionage in Crete, since the Anogians carried out the murder of the sergeant of the Yeni-Gaves garrison and the garrison itself, since the Anogians carried out the sabotage at Damasta, since the andartes of various resistance bands find asylum and protection in Anogia, and since the abductors of General Kreipe passed through Anogia , using Anogia as a stopping place when transporting him, we order its RAZING to the ground and its execution of every male Anogian who is found within the village and within an area of one kilometre around it. Chania, 13-8-44, The Commander of the Garrison of Crete, H. Muller." This was a chilling reminder of what the Cretans endured during their darkest days of World War Two. But, the significance is that they never gave up...the Cretans NEVER surrendered!

Later we drove to the lower level of the village of Anogia. There we found numerous shops in which the ladies could browse and shop. The guys made our way to a little taverna where we could sit, have a cold beer, and just relax. John Cocuzzi sat at a table with a local Greek, and established a friendship that neither will soon forget. John had studied Greek in Athens, and it quickly returned to him as he sat talking with the Cretans. Jim and I were content to sit at a table, sipping a cold Mythos, and enjoying the cooler temperature and the lower humidity. Shortly, the ladies joined us and a decision was made to head back to Amoudara. Because John had been on his feet so long, his back soon began to remind him accordingly. About halfway down the mountain, John pulled over to the side of the road, got into the back seat and laid down. I drove the rest of the way back to Amoudara. Upon our arrival, John made his way to his room at the MariRena Hotel. Jim, Pat, Jane and I made our way up the western end of Amoudara to a taverna named, "Thea", perched high on a hillside overlooking the bay of Amoudara. The name "Thea", means, "view". And, oh, what a view it was!!! On the evening of August 24,2010, there was a full moon rising over the eastern end of the bay of Amoudara, just opposite of the Thea Taverna. It was a gorgeous site to behold! The silver rays from the full moon danced on the ripples of water in the bay of Amoudara. We were captivated...hypnotized as we grabbed our cameras and began to "click" away. The food was very good, but the view was absolutely captivating!!!

On Wednesday, August, 25, 2010, Jim and Pat drove to Saint Nikolaos for the day, and John and Jane stuck close to Amoudara. That evening, we all had dinner together at the Dionysus Taverna, adjacent to the MariRena Hotel.

On Thursday morning, August 26, 2010, Jim and Pat Janakes and I left Amoudara about 9:30 A.M. and traveled by car to the ancient archaeological ruins located at Phaestos. Jim and I looked about the ruins, while Pat took advantage of the shade. Later we all sat in the shade at a small taverna. Pat had Coke while Jim and I had a cold Mythos beer and we all enjoyed the view of the Messara Plain below us and the mountains in the distance...truly a panoramic scene. Then we drove on to Matala. Jim and I explored a few of the ancient Roman tombs, which were later used by the hippies at Matala in the 1960's and 1970's as their places of dwelling. We both took several photos of the tombs as well as of the sea, the beach and the little village. On our way back from the Roman tombs, we stopped by a little taverna just off the wooden walkway leading from the tombs. There, we all had iced coffee and a bowl of sliced fruit. It was a refreshing snack on such a warm day. We returned to Amoudara about mid-afternoon and headed straight for Popi's little taverna on the beach. Jim and I ordered the fish dinner, while Pat had a sandwich. The meal was a nice way to conclude the day, then we sat, relaxed, sipped beer and wine, and enjoyed the simple ambiance of Popi's Taverna with the Mediterranean Sea in the background. We left Popi's about 6:35 P.M. Jim and Pat dropped me at my apartment, before heading back to Arolithos.

For the first half of August 27th., we all just took time to rest and catch our collective breaths! John and Jane relaxed down at the beach by the water's edge, and John did venture into the sea, but that may have been a mistake. John forget to remove the keys to the rental car as well as the hotel key from his pockets. Unfortunately, those keys came out of John's pockets and were claimed by the Mediterranean Sea. Who knows, perhaps one day in the distant future, some underwater archaeologist might discover the keys and wonder about their history. Because John's back was still causing him great discomfort, he and Jane were unable to join Jim, Pat, myself, and my Greek friend, Miltiadis (Miltos) Apladas, for dinner near the mountain village of Kroussonas. We dined outside at a little roadside taverna called Baxas Taverna. Before it became dark, we could see the lush green hillsides and fertile valley below filled with groves of olive trees and vineyards. And, off in the distance, small villages with their whitewashed houses dotted the hillsides like small white patches of snow. As it grew dark, the food was brought to our table by our waiter, Spiros. George was the cook. We had several appetizers, including small pieces of lamb's liver, slices of cheese made from goat's milk, salad, and a type of creamed cheese that was nice to spread on slices of fresh bread. For the main course we were served a type of creamed pilaf, potatoes cooked with the hot juices from lamb meat, lamb shanks, and barbecued lamb ribs. A large decanter of white wine was placed in front of Pat, which she graciously shared with me. After dinner came a type of pastry with honey dripped over it, plus watermelon and honey dew melon. Naturally, the end of any dinner could not be complete without some raki to sip with the melon. Jim told me that eating the lamb dishes reminded him much of his youth when his Grandfather would prepare such dishes. Jim drove first to Gazi, where we let Miltos off in front of his home, and then it was back to Amoudara for me. We agreed to meet the following afternoon at the MariRena Hotel for drinks.

On the late afternoon of August 28, 2010, Jim, Pat and met at the MariRena Hotel to see if John and Jane would be able to join us for dinner. Pat had made a wonderful suggestion earlier, that because we had kicked off the reunion at Uncle George's Taverna, it would be quite fitting to conclude it there. Unfortunately, John's back was still causing problems, so he and Jane decided it would be best not to join us for dinner. We all had a round of drinks at the MariRena Hotel before Jim, Pat, and I walked to Uncle George's Taverna for "the last supper". We had an enjoyable meal together, but it ended all too soon. I felt as if I had made some wonderful new friends, and I hated to see them go. But, after eating, we had to say our "Goodbyes", because Jim and Pat had to be at the airport early the next morning to turn in their rental car, then hail a taxi to the Iraklion Harbor to catch a ferry first to Mykonos and then to Santorini before flying back the the USA.

I was up early the following morning to assist John and Jane with loading their bags and other belongings into their rental car. They were to catch a flight out of Iraklion to Athens where they would spend a few days, hoping that John's back would recover. Then it was off to London and from there back to the United States. We said "Goodbye" and I watched as they drove out of sight.

Now, I don't know if I will ever see any of these fine folks again...but I sincerely hope so. All who attended the reunion are very good people...and I came away from Crete Reunion 2010, feeling much richer because in just a few short days, I had made some really fine new friends. My genuine hope now is...if any of our paths should ever happen to cross again, I hope that it will be on this wonderful island paradise that we call Crete.

As always, take care, stay well, and let me hear from you.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

NOTE: Click on any photo for a larger view.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 22, 2010 at Uncle George's Taverna - Seated clockwise from left : John Cocuzzi, Pat Janakes, Jim Janakes, Bob Armistead, Joe Gussman, Maro Gussman, & Jane Cocuzzi.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 23, 2010 - Jim Janakes (L) and John Cocuzzi (R) stand in front of Building 406...the Compound at Iraklion Air Station, Crete, Greece.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 23, 2010 - Bob Armistead (L), Jim Janakes (C), and John Cocuzzi (R) stand where the Greek and American Flags once flew at Iraklion Air Station.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 23, 2010 - Left to right: Pat Janakes, Jim Janakes, John Cocuzzi and Jane Cocuzzi.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - John Cocuzzi models the traditional Cretan men's headwear called the "bolitha", in the small mountain village of Anogia on Crete.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - An elderly Cretan man sits outside the Skoulas Taverna in the village of Anogia. I wonder if he was one of the "andartes" who resisted the Germans in World War Two?

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - An elderly man sits outside the Skoulas Taverna in the mountain village of Anogia on Crete.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - John Cocuzzi (R) engages a local Cretan in a livley exchange in the village of Anogia on Crete.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - An elderly Cretan in the mountain village of Anogia poses for one last photo in front of the Skoulas Taverna.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - A Cretan man handles his "worry beads" outside a small taverna in Anogia on Crete.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - Jim and Pat Janakes, Jane Cocuzzi, and I had dinner at the Thea Taverna a few kilometers to the west of Amoudara in the hillside village of Rodia. The Greek word, "thea", means "view". The taverna overlooked the bay at Amoudara.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 24, 2010 - Photo taken from the Thea Taverna in the little village of Rodia. The moon rises and sparkels over the bay and village of Amoudara.

ABOVE LLEFT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - Jim and Pat Janakes and I rode to the ancient archeological ruins at Phaestos in the south central part of Crete.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - These large urns were most likely used as storage contains at the ruins of Phaestos on Crete.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - Large urn located at the archeological ruins of Phaestos on Crete.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - An open plaza...perhaps "agora" at the ancient palace of Phaestos.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - View from Phaestos looking northwest.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - Jim and Pat Janakes enjoy iced coffee and fruit at a small taverna near the ancient Roman tombs (caves) at Matala. In the 1960's and 1970's, hippies lived in the tombs (caves) for several years.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - Jim and Pat Janakes enjoy wine and a cold beer at Popi's Taverna by the beach. The Mediterranean Sea can be seen in the background.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 26, 2010 - Pat Janakes (L), Popi Mavraki (C), and Jim Janakes (R) pose for a photograph together at Popi's Taverna.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 27, 2010 - This is the view from the Baxas Taverna near the mountain village of Kroussonas.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 27, 2010 - View from the Baxas Taverna near the mountain village of Krousonas. Just before sundown.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 27, 2010 - Left to right: Jim Janakes, Pat Janakes, and Miltiadis (Miltos) Apladas enjoy a meal at the Baxas Taverna near the village of Kroussonas.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 27, 2010 - Left to right: Miltiadis (Miltos) Apladas, Bob Armistead, Jim Janakes and Pat Janakes at the Baxas Taverna near the village of Krousonas.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: August 27, 2010 - Clockwise from left: Jim Janakes, Pat Janakes, Miltiadis (Miltos) Apladas, and Bob Armistead enjoy a traditional Cretan meal outside the Baxas Taverna.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: August 28, 2010 - Left to right: John Cocuzzi, Jane Cocuzzi, Bob Armistead, Pat Janakes, and Jim Janakes stand near the pool of the MariRena Hotel. We all had drinks together, before Jim, Pat, and I went to Uncle George's Taverna for our final meal together.

THE RIDE OF MY LIFE!

2010-08-14T21:24:00.029+03:00

Dear Friends,

After looking at the title of this commentary, I imagine most of you are probably thinking this entry is going to be about an automobile running out of control, or a motorcycle with the throttle stuck wide open, or a runaway locomotive without an engineer at the controls, or an airplane flying through violent turbulence, or maybe even a wild ride at the county fair. And some of you, with more erotic minds, may think it is entirely something else! But, actually, it is none of the above.

Before I share this story with you, I will say that I have told it before; however, my modesty demanded that I leave out certain rather embarrassing and explicit details. But, there comes a time, as each day we get a little closer to the final chapter and the last page of our lives, we begin to realize there are some stories that are just too damn good to take to the grave. So, with that in mind, I have set aside my modesty and pride, and present, THE RIDE OF MY LIFE!!!

Back when I was assigned to Iraklion Air Station on Crete in the late 1960's and early 1970's, someone told me of an island that was just too good to miss - almost too good to be true...where there was lush vegetation, the natives were friendly, the food was great, and thousands...and I mean thousands of beautiful "touristas" from Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Holland came in droves to visit the island...and the vast majority of those "touristas" were beautiful, blond haired, gorgeous young ladies. That island was Rhodes. One of the reasons for its popularity was that Rhodes had an international airport, while at that same time, Crete did not. They could fly directly from their native Scandinavian countries to Rhodes without having to go through Athens, or pass through customs in Athens, or having to change planes to a domestic airline flying out of Athens.

The same person who told me about Rhodes also suggested that I stay at the Hotel Angela in the capital city of Rhodes. It was inexpensive and it also gave a military discount to those of us serving in the U.S. Air Force on Crete. So, armed with this information, I set out in the early summer of 1969 on what would become the first of many adventures on Rhodes. After my first visit there, I knew I was hopelessly addicted to Rhodes. I took several leaves there in 1969 as well as many of my four day breaks there. And, again in 1970, I returned there numerous times. But, in mid-summer of 1971, I took what would be my final leave on Rhodes, as my tour on Crete was drawing to a close and I would be leaving in August to return to the USA. Each time that I visited Rhodes I always stayed at the Hotel Angela, and when I returned to Crete, I would tell my friends about how nice the staff at the Hotel Angela were and how inexpensive it was. Yes, I know what you are about to ask. "Bob, just how inexpensive was it?" Well, it cost the equivalent of $2.50 per night!

During my many visits to Rhodes, I had become friendly with several of the staff at the Hotel Angela. I had gotten to know Angelo the bartender extremely well...a young man in his twenties with dark hair and dark eyes, and with lean features. He could mix a mean whiskey sour or just about anything else you could think of. Behind the bar, Angelo was a combination of artist and chemist! His movements were sure and fluid as he moved quickly behind the bar, grasping this bottle or that bottle, pouring specific amounts of alcohol, tonics, mixers, or seltzers into the glass, and then, when finished, raising the drink into the air almost like an offering to the god of drinking, all the while gazing at it through the light, and then smiling to himself much like an artist who has just completed a masterpiece. He would then place the drink in front of you on a napkin, and with his heavy Greek accent, would say, "Try this. I think it is just what you wanted." If there had ever been a Nobel Prize awarded for bar tending, Angelo surely would have walked away with the prize and the medal! After having visited Rhodes and the Hotel Angela just a few times, Angelo started calling me "Boss". It sort of reminded me how Zorba referred to the Englishman as "Boss" in ZORBA THE GREEK.

Then there was Alex, the manager of the Hotel Angela. He was probably in his mid-thirties. He always wore a white shirt that seemed to have too much starch in the collar, for he was always running his finger around the collar as if to loosen it from around his neck. But, whether this was just a nervous habit or if the starched collar really was irritating his neck, I guess I will never know. He was constantly going from guest to guest, trying to make sure that everyone was satisfied - everyone was happy. I got the impression that Alex was one of these guys who was always afraid of losing his job. After all, he was just the manager of the hotel and at the mercy of the owners. Alex's face seemed to always appear a little red, like his blood pressure was high. I felt rather sorry for him; he worked his ass off, and whatever the owners were paying Alex, wasn't nearly enough! He was the type of guy who you knew was working himself into an early grave.

One afternoon I was sitting at the bar in the lobby of the Hotel Angela. Angelo the bartender and I had been talking - I don't remember about what...and after forty years it really doesn't matter. I saw Alex, the hotel manager, approaching from the direction of the registration desk. He walked over and sat on the bar stool next to mine, and with his Greek accent spoke: "Bob, we have a slight problem on Rhodes, and I want to ask a big favor of you, my friend." "Sure, Alex. What can I do to help?" I asked. Alex then proceeded to tell me there were more tourists in the city of Rhodes then there were hotel rooms. Tourists were sleeping in parks, on sidewalks, and even on the floors of open-air tavernas after they had closed for the evening. Alex further stated that the Ministry of Tourism had even asked individuals to open their homes and rent a room for a few nights to some of the tourists to ease the burden and get them off the streets. Then, Alex asked, "Bob, how many hours a night do you spend in your room? Six? Seven?" "Well, Alex, to be honest I probably don't spend more than four or five hours sleeping, and then I am up and gone at daybreak. Why?" I responded. I was a little curious as to where this conversation was leading. "Well, the Minister of Tourism has asked the hotel managers to try to find a way to free up more rooms - to help ease the problem. So, I have a proposition for you." For a moment, I could almost visualize Alex stepping out from a little souvenir shop, taking me by the arm and gently guiding me inside, all the while saying, "My friend, come inside. Look around. I have special deal for you - just because I like you." "And, what are you proposing, Alex?" I inquired. "Well, there is a rather large room in the basement which we normally don't rent out; however, these are not normal times. It has a bed, wardrobe, sink and toilette. It has no tub or shower, but there is a utility bathroom on the fifth floor which does. If you want this room, I will let you have it for 50 cents a night. That would free up one more room for the touristas. And, I would give you a key to the utility bathroom on the fifth floor." Now, I have never been one to walk away from a good deal; however, when I saw this one, I didn't want to appear overly eager to accept it either. "Well, Alex, I don't know...", I hesitated. "Oh, please, Bob," Alex pleaded, all the while looking at me with his sad, little, puppy dog eyes. "Oh, O.K. But, I want you to know that I am giving up the comfort of a nice room with a beautiful view, just to help you out, my friend," I said. "Yes, yes. I know that. And I am deeply indebted to you, Bob. I will get the key to the room in the basement and the key to the fifth floor utility bathroom. Thank you," Alex replied. "You're welcome, Alex. After all, I always want to do my part to help keep those lovely touristas happy." I smiled. I was actually a little proud of myself for having landed such a sweet deal, especially on the salary of a Sergeant! Alex returned in just a few moments with the keys to my new basement bedroom and to the fifth floor utility bathroom. I then left and removed all of my belongings to my new abode in the basement. It really was a very spacious room...almost too big, and because of its size, it almost seemed rather bare with just the bed, sink, commode and wardrobe.

The following afternoon, I had decided to walk down to the beach, catch some rays (lay in the sun), and check out the lovely Scandinavian lady touristas. Because I was so fair skinned, I applied a liberal coating of suntan lotion all over my body before stretching out on my blanket. I made certain that I didn't overdo it, so after just thirty minutes on each side, I decided to play it safe and return to the hotel at about 4 o'clock that the afternoon. Standing in front of the elevator door in the hotel lobby, I pushed the arrow pointing "down" toward the basement. Even though there were others waiting to get on the elevator, when they saw it was headed to the basement, none of them got on. Once in the basement, I unlocked my room door and went in. There was a full length mirror on the back of the door. I stood before it and looked to see if I had got too much sun. I was relieved to see that I had just a hint of pink, but, I also noticed that I needed to take a shower to wash off all that suntan lotion. As I undressed, I began to devise my plan...to work out the details of my scenario to get from my room in the basement to the utility bathroom on the fifth floor without attracting too much attention. Confident in my plan, I took the bath towel and attempted to wrap it around my completely nekked (that's Southern for "naked") body. At this point I must remind you that the Hotel Angela was not a four-star hotel, and they didn't provide any four-star bath towels. The bath towel provided me was just barely large enough to wrap around my naked mid-section, but was too short to tie or tuck the ends together. So, I had to tightly grasp both ends of the towel at my mid-section with one hand to keep it from falling completely off. With a bar of soap in one hand and the ends of the towel tightly clinched in my other hand, I stepped out of my room, walked down the hallway to the elevator and pushed the button. I knew that when those waiting in the lobby above saw the elevator was going to the basement, most likely none of them would get on. And, I really didn't want any gawkers on the elevator with me...especially in my modest, almost completely nude state. When the elevator door opened, sure enough it was empty! My plan was put into motion. In order to insure that I could travel from the basement to the utility bathroom on the fifth floor alone and without anyone gawking at this nearly-nude American, I stepped onto the elevator, pushed the "5th Floor" button, and instantly pushed the "Non-Stop" button. I felt confident, almost smug, as the elevator jolted to life. However, my feeling of security was short lived as the elevator began slowing when it approached the first floor. I started banging on the "Non-Stop" button, but to no avail. Obviously, it was either broken or had been disconnected. I stepped back in horror against the back of the elevator as it stopped and the door slowly slid open. Now folks, at the time, I think the world population was about 4 billion people. Well, it looked as if the vast majority of them were crowded into the lobby of the Hotel Angela waiting to get on that elevator. At first they hesitated, staring at this mostly nude young man standing at the rear of the elevator. Then, some brave soul took a step forward and the others followed closely behind. I could hear snickering as some tried to contain their laughter, and others whispered, God only knows what, in foreign tongues. The elevator door closed and there I was - trapped, nearly nekked, with complete strangers closely crowded around me. The elevator came to life as it left the first floor. It was at this point that Murphy's Law was set into motion. There was a man standing directly in front of me wearing a flashy print shirt, flared dress slacks, and thirty pounds of gold chains hanging around his neck. I don't know why, but for some unknown reason he decided to take half a step back. When he did, one of his hard-soled, Italian made, pointy-toed shoes stepped solidly on my bare toes. It was then that events began to move along rather rapidly!! I let out a wild shriek of agony as I dropped both my bar of soap and the towel that WAS wrapped around my mid-section covering my gender, to the floor. Up to that point in my life, I had never been much of dancer, but I suddenly found myself whooping and hollering, while at the same time jumping up and down on one foot like a drunken Indian doing a war dance! Flashes of piercing light shot before my eyes and my screams must have reached a crescendo that only a dog's ear could hear. Others on the elevator quickly turned to see what the commotion was all about. When they saw this completely nekked man jumping up and down, their screams joined mine in a chorus of pain and astonishment - I was in pain and they were astonished! Men stood wide-eyed, older women swooned, and some of the younger ladies just smiled. And then, the elevator came to a stop at the second floor and the door opened. Apparently, all of them must have had rooms on the second floor, because as soon as the door opened ALL of them made a mass exodus from the elevator, none of them looking back, except for one young lady, who took one last brief parting glance. I think she may have even smiled.

I grabbed the towel from the floor and hit the "5th Floor" button as well as the "Non-Stop" button, cursing loudly as I did so. I rewrapped the towel around my waist and held it even more tightly now as I picked up my bar of soap from the floor. Even though it wasn't really hot on the elevator, I was sweating profusely. I trembled as the elevator approached and then passed the 3rd Floor, next the 4th Floor, then finally stopping at the 5th Floor. When the elevator door opened, I stuck my head out, and looked to see if anyone was nearby. Seeing no one, I limped quickly off the elevator, turned right, and the utility bathroom was right there. I unlocked the door, stepped in, closed and locked it behind me, and sat on the commode seat while I assessed what had just happened and attempted to regain my composure. I looked down at my toes which had been stepped on. They were an angry red, and for a moment I imagined that I could almost read an imprint, "Made in Italy", mashed into one of my toes, but perhaps I was just hallucinating from the pain. As I closed my eyes briefly, I could envision myself confronting the man who had stepped on my toes, and then using the gold chains around his neck to hang him from the elevator shaft. After a while, the throbbing in my toes began to subside, I stopped sweating, and I started to calm down. I decided to go ahead and get my shower, and then plan how I would return to my room in the basement - after all, what goes up, MUST come down...eventually. After my shower, I came to the conclusion that I would come down later...much, much later. By now it was fast approaching 6 P.M. All of the cleaning personnel had left for the day, so I knew I could stay in the utility bathroom for as long as I wished...and I wished to stay in there for a very, very long time. Not wanting to carry out a repeat performance from earlier that afternoon, I decided that I had to stay in my hidden retreat until most everyone had gone to bed, then I would get on the elevator and hope (and pray) I could make it back to my basement room without the elevator stopping to take on any riders. I passed the time by counting tiles on the floor, then the ones on the ceiling, and then the ones covering the walls. Before I left the bathroom, I knew exactly how many tiles it took to cover the entire bathroom, and I carried that bit of useless trivia with me for many years. Years later, when I finally came to the inexplicable conclusion that Alex Trebec on Jeopardy would probably never ask me how many tiles it took to cover the entire fifth floor utility bathroom in the Hotel Angela, I allowed that information to sift through the grates in my mind and fall into the black hole of forgetfulness forever. The minutes slowly ticked by, and then those minutes turned into hours. I was getting sleepy, but I knew that I mustn't fall asleep and perhaps run the risk of waking up later the next morning when the hotel guests would once again be stirring. Finally, at about 3 A.M., I opened the bathroom door, stuck my head out, and listened; I could hear nothing and I could see no one. With my towel gripped tightly around my loins, I made my way to the elevator. I could hear the steel cables straining and groaning as they lifted the elevator to the fifth floor. The door opened and I entered an empty elevator. The ride to the basement was completely uneventful...just the way I wanted it. I slept late the next morning, exhausted from the previous day's events and also from remaining awake until I felt safe about leaving the fifth floor utility bathroom. After getting dressed and leaving the hotel, I ate a light meal and walked around the old city, returning to the hotel later that afternoon. I made my way across the lobby to the bar where Angelo was working. "Hello, Boss. What you want today? Whiskey sour? Ouzo? How about a little raki?" Angelo asked. "No, I think I'll just have a straight Coke," I replied. Angelo looked rather stunned. "What? No whiskey sour? You have a bad night, Boss?" "Uh, yeah, I think you could say that, Angelo," I sighed. "O.K., Boss, one Coke coming right up." Angelo smiled as he sat it in front of me. I lifted my glass into the air, "Yamas, Angelo." As I raised the glass to my lips and begin to sip, Angelo said, "You know, Boss, did you hear about the commotion on the elevator yesterday afternoon? Some guy was naked on the elevator!" The Coke, which had so peacefully started to slip across my tongue and toward the back of my throat, was suddenly and violently thrust upward, making a burning exit out my nostrils! "Boss! You O.K.?" Angelo blurted out. He handed me a napkin as I coughed and gasped. "Yesss," I wheezed, "I'm O.K., Angelo." Visions of being arrested by the Greek police for public indecency began to play though my mind, and I could imagine being thrown into a jail cell with someone whose Greek name translated into "Bubba". "Do they know who he was?" I asked. "No. He was young. Besides, I heard everyone ran out of the elevator on the second floor," responded Angelo, "and I don't think anyone was looking at his face anyway, Boss." Angelo began to smile and then, as he leaned across the bar, he whispered, "Where were you yesterday afternoon, Boss?" "Ummmm,...I was out... out taking a ride, Angelo. Yes, that was it, I was out taking the ride of my life!" I stammered. Angelo and I just smiled at each other across the bar, each knowing what the other was thinking.

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

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob (Elevator Man) Armistead

IT'S A SMALL, SMALL WORLD!

2010-08-12T15:28:00.018+03:00

Dear Friends,

On the morning of Monday, August 2, 2010, I had left my apartment that morning in Amoudara, caught the bus and traveled toward the western edge of Iraklion to do a little shopping at a grocery/Wal-Mart wanna-be store called, CarreFour. This is a large French-owned company dealing in food products as well as clothes, electronics, house wares, etc. I needed to buy a few groceries to restock my little apartment in Amoudara. After returning to my apartment, I put away my groceries, turned on my laptop computer, and then checked my E-Mails. To my surprise I had an E-Mail from David Garza, stating that he was on Crete, and that he would like to meet me at 1:00 P.M. that afternoon at Lion's Square (Morosini Fountain) in downtown Iraklion. I sent a reply E-Mail back to David telling him that I would be there at Lion's Square promptly at 1:00 P.M., and that I could be readily identified by the "Superman" T-shirt that I would be wearing.

I hurriedly took a quick shower, ironed some clean hiking shorts, donned my "Superman" T-shirt and caught the #1 bus into downtown Iraklion from Amoudara. The traffic was heavy and I was a little concerned that I might not arrive at Lion's Square by 1:00 P.M. However, I just did make it in time with a few minutes to spare. I departed the bus just a short distance from the Astoria Hotel in Eleftherius Square. I made my way along Dikeossinis Street and after a few blocks turned right toward Lion's Square, arriving there just a few minutes before 1:00 P.M. It was a hot and bright, sunny day, and the sun beat down, forcing everyone to retreat to any shade that could be found. Even though it was a bit windy down by the harbor and near the beach, the closely constructed buildings in Iraklion prevented the air from moving much near Lion's Square. In his E-Mail, David had told me he would be wearing an orange tank-top shirt. I looked around, but didn't see anyone matching that description. I sat down under a tree that had a little wooden bench built around its base. The minutes ticked by. Promptly at 1:00 P.M., I decided to stand up and walk around the fountain at Lion's Square. At that moment, I noticed a guy wearing an orange tank-top shirt waving at me, not thirty feet from where I had been sitting. We approached each other. "David?" I asked. "Yes, I'm David." We shook hands like long lost friends. Even though we had never met before this moment, I felt an immediate close camaraderie with David. I knew that he and I shared a common kinship...Iraklion Air Station...Crete...the Security Service. We talked for several minutes while David's wife, Marietta, walked down 25th of August Street to book passage for her, David, and their daughter, Brigitte, on a ferry to Santorini later that week. When she returned, we all followed Marietta's brother, Kostas, as he led us to a cozy little taverna not far from Lion's Square. After having placed our order, we sat there talking about Iraklion Air Station and how it had changed from the time I arrived there in late 1968, until David had arrived there in 1980. It was then that I learned that David's wife, Marietta, was Cretan! Naturally, I just assumed they had met on Crete, but that wasn't the case. Marietta had traveled to Florida with her Aunt and Uncle on a visitor's visa. After a few weeks, they traveled on to their next duty station at Goodfellow Air Force Base at San Angelo, Texas. That is where David and Marietta met, fell in love, got married, and, as they say, "the rest is history".

When David and Marietta got married, David's security clearance was temporarily pulled, pending the outcome of a background check on Marietta. However, when Marietta's background check was completed and David's security clearance reinstated, David got orders for...can you believe this...Crete!!! Of all the places in the world that David could have got orders for, he got them for Crete...his wife's native island!!! How lucky can one man get? Surely the Greek gods of ancient mythology were smiling down on David and Marietta!

As David and I talked, he indicated how fortunate he considered himself to have been. Not only had he been able to participate in events on the base, but off duty he was able to interact with the local Cretans through his wife and his wife's relatives! He visited small, remote villages, experienced local traditions and festivities, and developed a genuine love for Crete and its people. I have to say that I envied David and his very close relationship to Crete through his wife and her relatives! David left Crete in 1982 and proudly served with the U.S.A.F., finally retiring after 22 (or 24?) years of dedicated and loyal service to the U.S. Air Force and our Country!!!

I am not sure how long we all sat in the little taverna in downtown Iraklion, but the time slipped by all too fast, and pretty soon it was time for us all to depart...David and his family to return to the home of Marietta's Mother, and me back to Amoudara. Now, this is the part I like: David and I shook hands, but I got to hug his lovely wife, Marietta, and his beautiful daughter, Brigitte. I really think the significance of the meeting between David, his family, and me was this: Even though we had never met before, we felt like we were already good friends because of the common bond of Iraklion Air Station, Crete, and the Air Force Security Service. Thanks David, Marietta, and Brigitte for a memorable and wonderful afternoon!

As always, stay well, keep in touch, and let me hear from you.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

NOTE: Click on any photo to get a larger image.

LEFT PHOTO: Brigitte Garza (L), Marietta Garza (C), David Garza (R) at a little taverna in downtown Iraklion - August 2, 2010.

ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: David Garza (L), Brigitte Garza (C), Marietta Garza (R) at a little taverna in downtown Iraklion - August 2, 2010.

LEFT PHOTO: Bob (Superman) Armistead (Far Left), Brigitte Garza (Center Left), Marietta Garza (Center Right), and David Garza (Far right) enjoy time together at a small taverna in downtown Iraklion - August 2, 2010

UNCLE GEORGE'S TAVERNA

2010-07-18T12:48:00.035+03:00

Dear Friends,

During the past several years, I have had the very distinct pleasure of meeting many fine people here in the little seaside village of Amoudara on Crete, but none of them has been any nicer and more pleasant than Kostas Sakoulakis. Kostas and his family own and operate Uncle George's Taverna in Amoudara. But, before I tell you about Uncle George's Taverna, I want to share a little information about Kostas with you. In 1984 when Kostas was still a very young man, just twenty years old, he left his native Crete and traveled to New York City to live with his Uncle John and to attend college in the United States. While attending college, Kostas also worked for his Uncle in the family run business, a small chain of four Greek restaurants, each aptly named, "The Aegean Restaurant", on Long Island. During that time, Kostas developed a genuine love and admiration for America, and in 1988, just four years after having arrived in the United States, Kostas became a naturalized citizen. This was just the beginning for Kostas of living the American Dream! And, two years later, through hard work, sheer determination, and saving his money, Kostas was able to purchase one of the four restaurants from his Uncle John. Things were going very well for Kostas; his business grew and his restaurant gained the reputation for being one of the finest Greek restaurants on all of Long Island. But, then, Kostas' father, George, became seriously ill. Kostas sold his restaurant back to his Uncle John and returned to his home on Crete in 1998 to assist caring for his ailing Father and to help run the family restaurant, Uncle George's Taverna.

That brings us to the present. Today, through the efforts of Kostas and his family, Uncle George's Taverna has become one of the finest Greek restaurants in Amoudara, serving authentic Greek cuisine and also providing some of the best service on the island. Kostas sees that his food contains only the freshest vegetables and ingredients. None of the food contains any artificial preservatives and much of it is organically grown. The food is never prepared in advance, but rather, each dish is prepared as the customer orders it, assuring only the freshest and highest quality.

The restaurant itself is actually divided into three areas: There is a dining area completely enclosed for those who prefer eating inside; there is a dining area which is outside and exposed on two sides, yet under a roof; and, there is a dining area which is outside and uncovered, except for grape vines and beautiful flowers growing overhead. The entire dining experience at Uncle George's is one of a relaxed atmosphere, genuine Greek food that is tastefully prepared, and a staff, headed by Kostas and his family, who are eager to make your dining experience at Uncle George's one of the highlights of your visit! But perhaps most importantly, when you visit Uncle George's Taverna, Kostas is going to treat you like part of his family! This is one of the reasons why I have selected Uncle George's Taverna at 124 A. Papandreou Street in Amoudara to be the inital gathering place for the Crete Reunion 2010 at 7:00 P.M. on August 22, 2010. See you there!

I hope you will take time to look at the photographs below of Uncle George's Taverna. And remember this: If you visit Amoudara and you don't stop by and try some of the delicious food at Uncle George's Taverna, then you have missed a real treat!!!

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: Uncle George's Taverna at 124 A. Papandreou Street in Amoudara, Crete.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: Kostas Sakoulakis greets you at the entrance to Uncle George's Taverna with a smile and a menu.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: The inside dining area of Uncle George's Taverna.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: The outside dining area of Uncle George's Taverna with the covered roof.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: The outside dining area of Uncle George's Taverna with just the flowers, trees and sunshine above.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: The chef prepares another delicious meal for some lucky customer.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: One of the staff at Uncle George's Taverna relaxes for just a moment before going back to his duties.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: The Mother of Kostas Sakoulakis, Georgia, makes sure that all runs well in the kitchen of Uncle George's Taverna.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: When night falls, guests and friends begin to gather at Uncle George's Taverna for an evening of delicious dining.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: The guests at Uncle George's Taverna enjoy a time of relaxation and great food.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: You can choose to dine under the roof or under the stars at Uncle George's Taverna.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: Great food and fine wine, beer, or other drinks at Uncle George's Taverna are a fine way to end the evening.

LEFT PHOTO: The outside of Uncle George's Taverna in Amoudara.

RIGHT PHOTO: And lastly, Uncle George keeps a watchful and loving eye over his family and his taverna.

NICKNAMES ON CRETE or DON'T FALL OFF THE MOUNTAIN or HOW TO MAKE ELF BOOTS

2010-07-06T04:40:00.018+03:00

Dear Friends,

I'm sure most of you remember when we were stationed at Iraklion Air Station on Crete, a great many of us had nicknames which stuck to us worse than a BP tarball from the Gulf of Mexico. Names like "Hair", "Polar Bear", "Doo-doo" and "Chickenman" were worn proudly like badges of honor. And, yes, even I had a nickname...Midget. I think that referred to my height...or lack thereof. However, many of you may not be aware, but before I was known as Midget, I had two prior nicknames...nicknames that were in reference to my inability to hold my liquor. Yes, before I was Midget, I was known as "Ralphin' Robert" and "Barfin' Bob"! It seemed that when I drank to an excess, which didn't take much, I would often wake up in a bed spinning wildly out of control and race down the hall toward the latrine in an effort to kneel before the porcelain god and pay homage. However, much of the time, I would either overshoot the latrine like a gooney bird trying to land on a frozen lake or just simply fail to arrive at the latrine in time to deposit my stomach's contents in the appropriate receptacle. When that occurred, the contents of my stomach could often be found the following morning along the side of the hallway, much to the chagrin of the Greeks whose job it was to keep the hallway clean. I'm quite certain that if any of them had found out who had thrown up in their hallway, my life would have been in mortal danger!

That brings me to the following story: One night I had returned from an evening of raucous drinking at the Airmen's Club. I was so smashed that I didn't even have enough sense to know when to go to bed. Some of the other guys who were with me, but more sober than I, made the decision that it was time for me to go to bed. So, with some much needed assistance, my clothes were removed, I was directed to the bed, and the lights turned out. At some point later on, I awoke because of the incessant spinning of my bed. I held on tightly like a child struggling to hold on to a spinning carousel, and my stomach was turning faster than the rotating wheel inside a gyroscope. I knew what was next...it was inevitable...I was about to get sick. When I reached out in my darkened room, I couldn't feel anything, much less see anything. And, for some reason I got the impression that I was outside and alone on a mountainside. Perhaps the cool air blowing in from my open window contributed to that assessment. Fearing that if I moved or tried to descend the mountain, I would surely fall to my death, I did what anyone else would do in a similar situation - I simply leaned over the side of the mountain and threw up!

When I awakened the following morning, not only was I hung over, but I was also a little confused as to how I got off the mountain and made it safely back to my room in the dorm. I walked down the hall to the latrine where I was met with laughter and ridicule from those who had been witness to my previous evening's drinking activities. After a good hot shower, I returned to my room and got dressed in my fatigues. However, when I slid my feet into my combat boots, it felt as if the inside of the boots were a little damp. Thinking the dampness was just my imagination, I finished getting dressed and then proceeded to the chow hall to eat some soup before heading down to the compound to relieve my counterpart. I sat at my position monitoring my assigned targets, when a short time later the airman sitting to my left nudged me. I pulled my left earphone back and asked, "Yeah?" "Do you smell anything, Bob?", he asked. "Like what?", I inquired. "I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it doesn't smell good", he said. I raised my nose in the air and flared my nostrils like a dog on a hunt in an effort to detect both the source and the identity of the odor. "You know, it kind of smells kinda like barf", I said. "Yeah", he responded, "like barf". Then, a few minutes later, the airmen seated to my right tapped my shoulder and asked if I smelled anything odd. "Yes", I said, "It smells like barf". When I pulled my feet out from beneath the console to look for the source of the odor, the odor disappeared. All of us were puzzled as what could be producing such a foul smell. For the remainder of the shift, the odor of barf would wax and wane like tide from the sea. At the end of the shift, I left the compound and went directly to my room in the dorm. I was tired and still feeling the effects of the previous night's drinking. I got to my room and sat down on the bed. I unlaced one of my combat boots and crossed my leg to pull the boot off. As soon as my foot was out of my boot, I noticed something on the bottom of my sock. I looked closely but couldn't quite identify it, but then the tell-tale odor hit me - it smelled like barf! I looked inside and there in the bottom of my combat boot was something that closely resembled leftover vegetable soup. I quickly removed my other boot, only to find the same thing on the bottom of my sock and in the bottom of my other boot! "What the Hell!", I thought to myself as I tried to figure out how Campbell's vegetable soup got inside my combat boots. Then, things began to come together....the night of hard drinking...the darkness...the mountainside...leaning over. "Oh my God!", I said aloud, "I threw up in my combat boots!" I couldn't believe it!!!

Now if the story ended there, it would have been bad enough, but things were about to get even a little worse. I decided the best way to clean my combat boots was to wash them. So, I did what any twenty year old young man would do - I removed the boot laces, walked down the hallway to the laundry room and threw my combat boots into the washing machine. I added plenty of detergent and let my boots go through the wash, rinse and spin cycles repeatedly. After pulling them from the washing machine, I threw the boots into the dryer. I knew that because of the heavy material and leather the boots were made from, it would probably take extra longer for them to dry, so after the first hour was completed, I turned the timer on for another hour, and when that hour was completed, I turned the timer on for one final hour. The boots made an awful sound inside the dryer as they crashed, banged and plopped against the inside of the drum. For the fun of it, I was tempted to fill out a repair tag for the dryer, stating, "Dryer making sound like midget running around dryer drum in combat boots". But, I was afraid the repairman would just write in the comments section of the repair form, "Found midget - took away boots". Anyway, after three hours in the dryer, I reached in and pulled out my boots. Now folks, I don't know how many of you have ever seen little elf boots - you know the ones - with the ends of the toes all curled up. Well, that is exactly how my combat boots looked! The toes of my boots were turned upward in a sharp angle and the surface looked as if someone had buffed them with sandpaper. I decided the only way to straighten out my boots was to wear them. But first I had to put a shine back on them. I must have used almost a full can of Kiwi shoe polish before I was able to get even the slightest hint of a shine on them. And the first time I put on the boots and wore them was pure Hell! I felt as if my toes were turned so far up in an unnatural position that they would surely break. And when I walked, it looked as if I were walking on my heels with my toes pointed skyward. I felt as if I were walking in elf Hell! Now I understand why elfs never smile!!!

Anyway, that's my story...and after 40 years, I'm still sticking with it!

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

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!!!

2010-07-04T00:52:00.005+03:00

Dear Friends,

Well, here I am, safely on Crete again for the third time in as many years. I arrived here on July 2, 2010, suffering from a serious case of "jet lag". I tried to stay up, but at about 8:00 P.M. Friday evening, I succumbed to the effects of "jet lag" and did not get up until almost 10:00 A.M. Saturday morning! I know what you are thinking. "Did Bob go to sleep, or did he go into a coma?" At any rate, I got up Saturday morning, feeling much better than I had on Friday evening!

Now, to get away from the above subject, I just wanted to wish all of you a "Great & Happy Fourth of July". I know that on this day, many of you will attend picnics, family reunions, community celebrations and fireworks displays. I just hope that none of us will ever lose sight of the real reason for celebrating the Birth of this Great Nation of ours. Sometimes, I think when we look at the direction from which our Nation has come, and compare it with the direction in which it is headed, we can become a little pessimistic - I know I do. But, having said that, I would like to share something that happened to me on my trip to Crete in 2008: One day while waiting for the local bus in the little seaside village of Amoudara, I happened to meet two of the nicest American girls that one could possibly hope to meet. One thing that I have discovered is that while visiting a foreign country for any length of time, it is ALWAYS nice to hear someone speaking your native tongue. When I heard Sabryna and Roxy speaking English, I immediately struck up a conversation with them and over a short time, the three of us became fast friends. Sabryna and Roxy were on Crete participating in a college co-operative with Drexel College in Philadelphia, the school they were attending. After the initial meeting, we would often go out to lunch or dinner together, or sometimes they would prepare a home-cooked meal in their little apartment and invite me over.

One morning, Sabryna knocked on the door of my apartment, and insisted that she, Roxy, and I just "had" to get together that evening for dinner to celebrate. "Celebrate?", I asked. "Yes! Don't you know what today is? It's the Fourth of July! Just because we are in a foreign country is no reason not to celebrate our Nation's birthday!" I have to say that I was just a little more than embarrassed and ashamed. I have always thought of myself as somewhat of a flag-waver and a patriot, but here on one of the most significant days in our Nation's history, I had forgotten. Shame on me! But, what struck me as more significant than the fact that I had forgotten the Fourth of July, was that Roxy and Sabryna had remembered! I know from personal experience that I have often been skeptical when I look at today's youth, and wonder if they are capable to assume the mantle of leadership in the days and years ahead. Then, along comes someone like Sabryna and Roxy, who help to instill a confidence, a reassurance and a sense of hope that all will be fine - that our Nation will not just endure...but, through the Grace of God, it shall prevail.

That evening, Sabryna, Roxy, and I sat in a restaurant that overlooked the ancient Venetian Fortress in Iraklion harbor. From our elevated vantage point, we had a wonderful view of the fortress, bathed in white flood-lights. I couldn't help but imagine how tiny Fort McHenry must have looked on the evening when it sustained a continual and heavy bombardment from the British ships in Baltimore Harbor, and how it had refused to surrender. Then I looked at the faces of Sabryna and Roxy and how the reflected light from the fortress shone on their faces almost like an aurora. It was then that I realized as long as there were young men and women like Sabryna and Roxy who refused to forget the significance and importance of our National heritage, perhaps there was still hope for our Country and our Future. God Bless Sabryna and Roxy...wherever you are, and may God continue to Bless America! Happy Fourth of July!!!

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 2010: Clarksville, Tennessee

2010-05-04T21:16:00.051+03:00

Genesis 6:17 - "And, behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth..."

Dear Friends,

It began raining here in Clarksville, Tennessee early Saturday morning about 4 A.M. on May 1, 2010, and it continued raining throughout Saturday and all day Sunday. Then the waters began to rise...first it was subtle as the waters of the Red River dumped its contents into the Cumberland River and the water began to inch its way up the banks. By Sunday afternoon, many businesses located near the Red River and Cumberland River started placing sandbags around their doors. And, my favorite hangout, Kelly's Big Burger, which is open 24 hours a day and is located on Riverside Drive, closed its doors at about 6 P.M. on Sunday evening. I ventured out late Sunday evening around 11 P.M. to take some night shots of the rising water. I was temporarily detained by the Police near a business on Riverside Drive as I photographed some vehicles trapped in a parking lot amid the rising waters. On Monday morning, May 2, 2010, I again went out to document the water damage and once again I was briefly intercepted by Clarksville Police. On Tuesday morning I again left the relative safety and dryness of my home in an effort to document this historic flood...a flood of almost Biblical proportions!!! Noah, oh Noah, where were you when we needed you most...? What follows is a collection of photos that reflect the Clarksville, Tennessee flood of 2010.

You can "click" on any photo to get a larger perspective. Please pray for Clarksville and all of Tennessee.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrrior",

Bob Armistead

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: Looking northwest from a train tressle that crosses Riverside Drive and the Cumberland River. Sunday afternoon, May 2, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: Looking southwest from a train tressle that crosses Riverside Drive and the Cumberland River. The clump of trees in center-photo is the western bank of the Cumberland River. Normally, there is no water beyond those trees. Sunday afternoon, May 2, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: Train tressle that crosses Riverside Drive and the Cumberland River, facing west. Sunday afternoon, May 2, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: A floating boat dock on the Cumberland River as seen from the pedestrian footbridge located along the edge of Riverside Drive. Sunday afternoon, May 2, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: This is the railraod tressle from which the first three photographs were taken. Photo taken from a pedestrian footbridge over Riverside Drive, facing south. Sunday afternoon, May 2, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: The rising waters from the Cumberland River slowly creep upwards toward Riverside Drive. Photo taken from pedestrian footbridge over Riverside Drive, facing north. Sunday afternoon, May 2, 2010.

LEFT PHOTO: The Cumberland River as seen facing south. Sunday afternoon, May 2, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: Paneled truck in the parking lot of the Two Rivers Mall at Riverside Drive. Photo taken about 11 P.M. on Sunday night, May 2, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: This is the same paneled truck in the above-left photo. Photo taken about 10 A.M. on Tuesday morning, May, 4, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: This is where College Street runs into Riverside Drive, or uh, the Cumberland River. Monday morning, May 3, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: This is the backside of several businesses that front Riverside Drive. People are attempting to salvage merchandise, business equipment, etc. Monday morning, May 3, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: The BP gas station located on the corner of McClure Street and Riverside Drive. Monday morning, May 3, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: This is where McClure Street intersects Riverside Drive. "STOP"??? Monday morning, May 3, 2010.

LEFT PHOTO: Please...don't even ask! I'm not sure if this victim has just been rescued or baptized! Monday morning, May 3, 2010

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: The welcome sign to the Clarksville Academy Sports Complex, which is now completely underwater. It is now known as the Clarksville Academy Aquatic Center. Monday afternoon, May 3, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: The athletic field house which contains the athlete changing rooms and lockers, restrooms, and the concession stand. This sports complex is only two years old! Monday afternoon, May 3, 2010.

LEFT PHOTO: Clarksville Academy Sports Complex football stadium and bleachers under flood waters. Monday afternoon, May 3, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: Intersection of College Street and Kraft Street looking toward the bridge that connects Clarksville with the community of St. Bethlehem. Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: Intersection of Riverside Drive, North Second Street, and Kraft Street, looking north on Highway 41-A North toward the bridge that connects Clarksville with Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: Submerged vehicle in the Arby's parking lot on Riverside Drive. Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: One vehicle that didn't quite make it through the McDonald's "Float-Thru" line, I mean, the "Drive-Thru" line. Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: Shoney's Restaurant located at the intersection of North Second Street and Riverside Drive - home of the soggiest food in Clarksville! Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: O'Charley's Restaurant located on Riverside Drive. Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: A boat travels down the middle of Riverside Drive. In the background is "Kickers", a country music night club. Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." That's the Postal Service motto - however, it doesn't say a thing about FLOODS!!! Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.

ABOVE LEFT PHOTO: It has been reported that Clarksville, Tennessee has the largest selection of completely water-cooled used vehicles in the nation! Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.
ABOVE RIGHT PHOTO: Another completely water-cooled vehicle in Clarksville, TN. Tuesday morning, May 4, 2010.

CRETE REUNION 2010: STILL ON!!!

2010-03-06T04:27:00.007+02:00

Dear Friends,

I just wanted to remind you that the Crete Reunion 2010 is still on. We will all gather at Uncle George's Taverna on the evening of August 22, 2010 at 7:00 P.M. to have dinner, to get acquainted, and to make plans for the following days of the Reunion. Uncle George's Taverna is located in the little seaside village of Amoudara, which is just 6 kilometers to the west of Iraklion. The main street that runs through Amoudara is "A. Papandreou Street". Uncle George's Taverna is located on the corner of A. Papandreou Street and Naxou Street. I believe the correct numerical street address for Uncle George's Taverna is 124 A. Papandreou Street.

During our one-week reunion, we will make at least one trip back to Iraklion Air Station, tour the buildings on base, take a lot of photographs, and reminisce about the grand times that we all had on Crete. We may also have a picnic-like lunch down by the base beach with an opportunity to take a dip in the water for those so inclined. And, we will also want to make the opportunity available for a trip to the ancient Minoan archaeological ruins at Knossos. We will also travel to downtown Iraklion to do a little shopping on Market Street, visit Morosini Fountain (Lion's Square), St. Titus Church, and the ancient Venetian fortress down by the harbor, and other sites that are of interest to our group. There may also be some side trips to St. Nikolaos, Matala, Chania, and the mountain village of Anogia. I think it would be nice if we were to gather each evening for a meal together in Amoudara to discuss the day's events and to plan, by consensus, the next day's activities. One thing that we want to remember, is that no one has to go anyplace they don't want to go, or do anything they don't wish to do. I am really looking forward to meeting my new friends who were stationed at Iraklion Air Station at various times through the years, and to listen to their stories, and laugh at some of the outrageous things we did when we were all young and full of vim and vinegar!

If you need any additional information or if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me at the following E-Mail address: NALC364@yahoo.com

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

CRETE REUNION 2010: ACCOMMODATIONS

2009-12-20T07:01:00.004+02:00

Dear Friends,

Below is a list of hotels and apartments for those of you who are interested in attending the Crete Reunion to be held in the little village of Amoudara (six kilometers to the west of Irakion) beginning on August 22, 2010 and lasting through August 28, 2010. Some of the hotels and apartments have web sites, some have only E-Mail addresses, and others only have telephone numbers or street addresses.

HOTELS/APARTMENTS ON CRETE

(1) Capsis-Astoria Hotel: Four star hotel located in downtown Iraklion (Heraklion) Web site: www.capsishotel.gr/astoria/index/_en.html

(2) Moevenpick Hotel: This is a five star, Swiss-owned hotel located at the eastern end in the village of Amoudara. Web site: http://www.moevenpick-crete.com/

(3) Creta Beach Hotel & Bungalows: This is a four star hotel located at the eastern end of Amoudara. Web site: http://www.cretabeach.com/

(4) Agapi Beach: Four star hotel located at the eastern end of Amoudara. Web site: http://www.agapibeach.gr/

(5) Santa Marina Resort Hotel: This is either a four or five star hotel. Located near the eastern end of Amoudara. Web site: http://www.santamarinahotel.gr/

(6) Marilena Hotel: This is a three star hotel located slightly toward the eastern end of Amoudara. E-Mail address: Unknown. Web site address, unknown. Telephone numbers: 2810 254312 and 2810 250672.

(7) Sun Hotel: Stars, unknown. Located in Amoudara. http://www.sunhotelamoudara.gr/

(8) EMI Apartments: Stars, unknown. Located in Amoudara. http://www.emi-apartments.gr/

(9) Gorgona Hotel: Three stars. Located in Amoudara. http://www.gorgonahotel.com/

(10) Marirena Hotel: One star. Located in the middle of Amoudara. It also has the Dionysos Taverna attached. http://www.marirena.gr/

(11) La Stella Apartments: Stars, unknown. Located in the middle of Amoudara. Website: Unknown. E-Mail address: lastellaap@yahoo.gr

(12) Uncle George Hotel: Stars, unknown. Located in the middle of Amoudara. E-Mail address: unclegeorgetav@yahoo.gr Web site, unknown.

(13) Petousis Apartments: Stars, unknown. Located in middle of Amoudara. http://www.petousis.com/

(14) Roxani Hotel: One star. Located in the middle of Amoudara. E-Mail: roxanihotel@hotmail.com Web address: http://www.hotelroxani.com/ (was unable to go to this web site). Alternate web site: www.greek-tourism.gr/roxanihotel/

(15) Castro Hotel: Stars, unknown. Located toward the western end of Amoudara. http://www.castro-hotel.com/

(16) Hotel Eleni Palace: Stars, unknown. Located toward the western end of Amoudara. E-Mail address: elenipalace@yahoo.gr

(17) Saloustros Hotel: Stars, unknown. Located at the west end of Amoudara. E-Mail address: Unknown. Web site: Unknown. Telephone: 2810 822653. Fax: 0810 822262. (This is the apartment complex that my friends from Holland stayed at).

(18) Arhodiko Hotel: Stars, unknown. Located at the west end of Amoudara. Web site: http://www.arhodikohotel.gr/

(19) Dolphin Bay Holiday Resort: Four stars. Located at the west end of Amoudara. Web site: http://www.dolphinbay.gr/

(20) Lambi Hotel: Three stars. Located at the west end of Amoudara. E-Mail address: Unknown. Web site: Unknown. Telephone numbers: (081) 821124, 821915, 821916, 821917.

Check out “Trip Advisor” for reviews on the above hotels at http://www.tripadvisor.com/ or http://www.holidaywatchdog.com/ or http://www.holidays-uncovered.co.uk/

Also, be advised that even though most of the above hotels offer air-conditioning, there is often a daily surcharge for its usage; usually about 4 to 6 Euros per day! Also, the listing of the above hotels/apartments should in NO way be interpreted as an endorsement by me. I have simply attempted to provide a varied choice of hotels/apartments in the vicinity of Amoudara for the Iraklion Air Station reunion in 2010. Caveat emptor!

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

CRETE REUNION 2010: AIRLINE RESERVATIONS

2009-12-09T21:50:00.003+02:00

Dear Friends,

For those of you who are interested in attending the reunion on Crete, scheduled from August 22, 2010 through August 28, 2010, as mentioned in an earlier post, I would suggest that you immediately submit the necessary paperwork to obtain a current U.S. Passport. If you already have a valid U.S. Passport, or have already submitted the necessary paperwork to obtain a U.S. Passport, then I would suggest that you began your search for airline reservations. Usually, a good rule of thumb to follow is: The earlier you purchase your airline tickets, the less expensive they usually are. I purchased my airline tickets for next summer's Crete Reunion just last month.

I am going to provide a few sources that you might use to search for inexpensive airline tickets:

http://www.expedia.com/ http://www.orbitz.com/ http://www.priceline.com/ http://www.travelocity.com/ http://www.cheapoair.com/

I am sure there are other sources on the internet to search for discount airline tickets. Just be careful and make sure that you follow all directions Also, when looking at the various connecting flights between cities, make sure there is a sufficient time between flights to allow for delays, to pass through passport control, and go through customs. You might also want to consider purchasing flight insurance to protect yourself against losses due to cancellations, loss of baggage, illness, political strife, etc.

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

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

CRETE REUNION 2010

2009-12-08T23:37:00.005+02:00

Dear Friends,

Late last year when Gary McPherson and I were exchanging E-Mails on Cretestock Yahoo Group, we both expressed a desire to meet on Crete during the summer of 2010. Since then, several others have also expressed an interest in joining Gary and me on Crete next summer for a little mini-reunion. In order to really get the ball rolling, Gary and I have selected a date during which the reunion will be held. Any of you who would like to join us are invited to join Gary and me for a little impromptu, spontaneous reunion on Crete beginning on Sunday, August 22, 2010 and ending Saturday evening, August 28, 2010. As it stands now, we will probably all meet in the little village of Amoudara which is just six kilometers west of Iraklion. Naturally, we will gather for lunches and dinners, and at least one trip back to the old base for a tour and perhaps even a picnic and an opportunity for a swim at the base beach, a trip into downtown Iraklion, and probably a trip back to Knossos. We may also plan some little side trips to St. Nikolaos, Chania, or Matala.

This reunion is not about the flight to which you were assigned, whether you were a career airman or a one-termer, if you were a dependent or not, what rank you held, or what job you performed while stationed on Iraklion Air Station. But, it IS all about a common love for Crete, Iraklion Air Station, wonderful memories of times past, and those with whom we were all so privileged to have served. Even though the changes to Crete have been monumental since we have all left, we must also face the reality that all of us have changed as well...not that we have just grown older, but hopefully we have grown wiser and much more appreciative of our collective past!

I recently returned from Crete on October 31, 2009 after a three month vacation there. While there I collected quite a bit of information relating to hotels and small apartment buildings in anticipation of the 2010 reunion. As I receive responses to this post, I will share the web site addresses, E-mail addresses, and other information pertaining to hotels, apartments, and airline booking information with you on Cretestock Yahoo Group and here on my blog, BOB'S THREE MONTH CRETAN ADVENTURE. However, I must emphasize that it will be the responsibility of each attendee to make his/her airplane reservations, and hotel or apartment reservations. I should also point out that the information I provide regarding hotels or apartments, should in NO way be construed or interpreted as an endorsement of any hotel or apartment.

If you are interested in joining Gary and me on Crete during August of 2010, please respond accordingly by posting a comment at the bottom of this entry. As I receive responses to this post, I will release additional information on this blog and on Cretestock Yahoo Group, regarding the reunion in 2010.

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

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead
Charlie Flight
6931st. Security Group

Dec. 1968 – Aug. 1971

"GOODBYE, GOODBYE, PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW..."

2009-10-30T10:43:00.014+02:00

Dear Friends,

Well, my time here on Crete is once again winding down. Just as I did last year, I am already starting to feel a little melancholy about leaving. I posted a comment on one of the eariler entries on my blog in which I stated that my time here has been much like an affair, with Crete as my mistress!

This year I have visited Iraklion numerous times, dropped by the American base to photograph the AFRTS building, traveled to Chania to buy a traditional Cretan knife, journeyed to the little mountain village of Anogia, hiked the distance of the Samaria Gorge where I broke my toe, trekked to Matala where I photographed the caves (Roman tombs), and just kicked back and relaxed down at Popi's beachside taverna in the little village of Amoudara. I haven’t traveled as far or done as much as I had hoped; I think being laid up for the two weeks with my broken toe had a lot to do with that. So...here is the question: Was it all worth it? To sum it up in just one word, the answer would have to be a resounding, “Yes!”

The friendships that were established last year with my Cretan friends have been reinforced by this year’s visit. And, I have made new friends from Germany, England, Holland and Belgium. I have also had the pleasure of crossing paths momentarily with people whom I have met on a bus or in a taverna - people whom I probably will never see again, but during those few moments that our lives have intersected, I have come away feeling a little richer for having met them, even if but for a brief period of time. Sometimes I feel that our lives are much more affected by the people we meet, than the places we visit along the way, and perhaps that’s the way it should be. People leave impressions on our hearts, while the places we visit leave only shadows!

I will leave my apartment and Amoudara this evening at about 10:00 P.M. and head for the Nikos Kazantzakis International Airport at the eastern edge of Iraklion. Even though my flight from Crete to Athens doesn’t depart until 8:00 A.M. tomorrow morning, I will need to be at the airport at about 6:00 A.M., which would require that I get up no later than 4:30 A.M., leave my apartment and catch a taxi to the airport (the bus system doesn’t run that early). And, if I were to oversleep (which I have been known to do), then I would be up a $#i! creek!!! So, it’s just easier to take the bus to the airport tonight, and doze on one of the benches inside the airport, until time to board my plane tomorrow morning.

And, lastly, I have enjoyed sharing my adventures on OUR island of Crete once again with the commentaries and my photographs on my blog. My goal has been to both inform and entertain you – if I have done either, than I shall consider my blog to have been a success!

Thanks for reading my blog and for you comments! And, as always, take care, stay well, and let me hear from you.

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

NOTE: CLICK ON PHOTO FOR A LARGER IMAGE

Bob Armistead enjoys one final Mythos beer at Popi's Taverna.

"Yiasou!!!"

MISCELLANEOUS PHOTOS

2009-10-29T17:19:00.028+02:00

Dear Friends,

What follows is a collection of miscellaneous photographs taken in downtown Iraklion as well as in the little seaside village of Amoudara. Because I am making preparations to leave Crete, I don’t have time to place captions beneath the photographs, but as soon as I have returned to my home in Tennessee and recovered from “jet lag”, you can be assured that I will post captions beneath all of the photos. Thanks for your patience.

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

NOTE: CLICK ON ANY PHOTO FOR A LARGER AND CLEARER IMAGE.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Market street as it looks today. Notice how the street is paved with either marble or granite slabs. In in 60's and 70's it was a dirt & gravel path.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: The Loggia on 25th of August Street in downtown Iraklion. Built in 1628-1630 by the Venetians.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Morosini Fountain (Lions Square) at night in downtown Iraklion.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: The Church of Saint Minas at night in downtown Iraklion.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The village of Rogdia as seen at night across the bay from Amoudara.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Full moon over Amoudara.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Full moon over Amoudara.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Full moon over Amoudara.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: A red flower just outside my apartment on Naxou Street in Amoudara.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: A bed of flowers adjacent to the La Stella Apartments on Naxou Street in Amoudara.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: A flower (unknown type) adjacent to the La Stella Apartments on Naxou Street in Amoudara.

uPPER RIGHT PHOTO: A flower (unknown type) adjacent to the La Stella Apartments on Naxou Street in Amoudara.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The west end of Popi's Taverna at the end of Naxou Street in Amoudara.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Popi's Taverna: The Crossroads of the World!!!

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Popi Mavraki relaxes during a brief break in business at her little taverna at the end of Naxou Street.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Bob Armistead enjoys a cold Mythos Beer at Popi's Taverna just a few days before his departure back to the USA.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: A rainbow over the Aegean Sea as seen from Popi's Taverna in Amoudara.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: A rainbow over the Aegean Sea as seen from Popi's Taverna in Amoudara.

MATALA: VILLAGE OF THE HIPPIES

2009-10-19T13:44:00.037+03:00

Dear Friends,

Do you remember back in the 1960’s when Life Magazine ran an article about hippies living in the caves at the little seaside village of Matala on the south coast of Crete? Of course, the caves weren’t actually caves at all; they were catacombs or graves for Romans who had died on Crete. I’m not sure if they were Roman soldiers or simply Roman citizens, but, at any rate, they were entombed in these catacombs above the beach at Matala, and in the 1960’s hippies had moved into these “caves” to live their idyllic lives! I’m sure that many of you not only remember the article that documented the hippies who lived there, but also probably ventured there to witness firsthand those who lived in the caves.

Well, on Sunday, October 18, 2009, I decided to travel to Matala to visit the village and photograph the caves or the catacombs. It was a beautiful day when I pulled out of Bus Station B which is located on the west side of Iraklion just before passing through the Venetian walls. I bought my round trip ticket from Iraklion to Matala and back for 14.40 Euros ($21.41 based on today’s exchange rate). I left Iraklion at 11:30 A.M. and at about 1:00 P.M., the bus pulled into Matala. I was expecting throngs of people, but I suppose this being October, the tourist season had begun to wind down. I wandered through the narrow streets of the little village of Matala, ate lunch at a small taverna, and then ventured toward the beach and the “caves” (catacombs). I was a little amazed at the color of the water – it was a much lighter shade of blue and appeared much clearer than the water at the little village of Amoudara on the north coast of Crete where I have been staying since the first of August. Children played at the water’s edge, letting the waves chase them up onto the sand as the watchful eyes of parents kept a close vigil on them. Others lay on the sand seeking to obtain that last little bit of suntan before fall chased them from their solar pursuit. And, others were just content to lie on the beach watching others...lying on the beach! There was a narrow boardwalk that led across the sand toward the caves, and situated along either side of the boardwalk were small tables set up where young people in their twenties with long hair, beards, sandals, and a somewhat unkempt appearance were selling beaded necklaces, bracelets, and other assorted bodily ornaments made from leather, shells, polished stones and anything else they could string together. I got the impression they were attempting to pass themselves off as hippies. But, alas, they were about forty years too late!!!

I photographed the caves from varying distances as I approached them. As I got nearer, I noticed a sign which read, “Roman Cemetery”, and pointed toward the caves. I began to scale and climb the rocks toward those caves (catacombs) located at the lowest level of the rock walls. I poked my head inside and looked. I was impressed! I had never before seen anything like that! I began to take photographs, almost as if I were afraid the caves might suddenly disappear! Then I ventured inside of one, then another and yet still another. I began to imagine that the grave in which Jesus Christ was placed after his crucifixion might have looked similar to these. The stone “bed” carved out of the rock where the person would lie, even had a stone “pillow” where his head would rest, slightly elevated. I wanted to climb even higher, but my broken toe protested vehemently! I relented and began my decent to the very bottom of the rock wall. I was amazed there appeared to be some caves which had not yet been opened. I couldn’t imagine archaeologists not wanting to satisfy their curiosity and leaving several of the tombs unopened. But, then I thought that perhaps some would look upon the act of opening a sealed tomb as an act of desecration. Anyway, even I began to wonder what lay just inside the walls of those which were unopened!

After taking numerous photos of the caves, the village, the little harbor and beach, I decided to head toward “Red Beach”. I had seen a sign earlier with an arrow pointing upward toward a little narrow concrete path that read, “Red Beach”. I didn’t know what “Red Beach” was, but I wanted to find out. After all, I was in Matala and didn’t know when, or if, I would ever return. If I wanted to find out what and where “Red Beach” was, now was my opportunity. I began my ascent...up, up, up. The concrete path gave way to a stone path and the ascent continued. Eventually, the stone path disintegrated into loose rocks. After about twenty minutes, I found myself well above Matala. I retrieved my Nikon D200 and took several photographs of the village, the beach, and, of course, the caves. As I continued making my way up, my broken toe began to object to the repeated abuse to which it was being subjected. I looked off in the distance and saw others far ahead who were still climbing and realized that “Red Beach” was perhaps a little too distant for me to visit in my current physical condition. I relented and began my descent. If a toe can possibly smile, I think mine was grinning like a pig in slop! Once back down in the village of Matala, I sat down on a bench – I was hot and tired. I was also just a little disappointed that I was unable to satisfy my natural curiosity by venturing on up and over the mountain to visit “Red Beach”. “Maybe next time”, I thought to myself. Of course, I realize there may never be a “next time”.

I caught the last bus out of Matala bound for Iraklion at 5:30 P.M., and at a little past 7:00 P.M. the bus rolled back into Bus Station B. In a short time, Bus #6 to Amoudara pulled up and I boarded it for the trip back to my apartment. In twenty minutes I was back in my apartment and on my computer searching Google for “Red Beach in Matala”...and I found it! Hmmmm...it seems that Red Beach is a “clothing optional” beach. I think that is a fancy way of saying it is a nudist beach. In other words, everybody runs around nekked!!! Maybe it was a good thing that I was unsuccessful in my attempt to go there. Those on the beach may not have appreciated a guy suddenly appearing with a camera! So now, I know what Red Beach is...and so do you! If you ever return to Matala and you are up for a little adventure...well, I’ll just leave it at that!

As alway, take care, stay well, and let me hear from you.

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

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

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Looking north at the caves (Roman catacombs) in Matala on Crete from the balcony of a local taverna.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Bob Armistead stands on the beach at Matala on Crete with the caves (Roman catacombs) in the background.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The caves (Roman catacombs) at Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: The caves (Roman catacombs) looking northwest at Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The caves (Roman catacombs) nearest the waters edge in the little bay at Matala, Crete, Greece.
UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: The caves (Roman catacombs) looking north, in the seaside village of Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The entrance to two of the caves (Roman catacombs) in the little seaside village of Matala, Crete, Greece.
UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Bob Armistead stands before the entrance to one of the caves (Roman catacombs) in Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The interior of one of the Roman catacombs in the village of Matala, Crete, Greece. The body of the deceased would be laid out with the head resting, slightly elevated, on the far right side of the tomb.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: This Roman catacomb had a place for bodies to be laid out on the far left, the far right, the far background, and two graves just in front of the background. It almost made me wonder if this might have been the final resting place for an entire family. Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Entranceway into one of the Roman catacombs at Matala, Crete, Greece. Notice the second chamber beyond the first doorway.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Looking from inside one of the Roman catacombs toward the beach outside and below. Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Looking slightly northeast across the little bay of Matala, Crete, Greece, toward the caves (Roman catacombs).

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Self portrait of Bob Armistead at Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: Waves crashing at the northern tip of the little bay at Matala, Crete, Greece.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: Looking north toward the caves (Roman catacombs) from atop the rocky path that leads to "Red Beach". Matala, Crete, Greece.

ABOVE PHOTO: Apparently, this young damsel thought the main beach at Matala was the "Red Beach". Funny, I didn't hear anyone complaining though!

NOTE: The following four photographs are from the 1960's when the caves at Matala were inhabited by the hippies. These four photos were borrowed from http://www.west-crete.com/

NOTE: The following photograph was borrowed from Matala - Hippies & Real Fun on Facebook.

LEFT PHOTO: Scotty, the last of the original hippies in Matala.

THE TRADITIONAL CRETAN DAGGER: A BRIEF HISTORY

2009-10-10T13:46:00.013+03:00

Dear Friends,

Below is an article including a brief history, description and photographs of the traditional Cretan dagger or knife, borrowed from http://www.explorecrete.com/ I hope you enjoy reading it.

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob Armistead

The Cretan Dagger, the knife of Crete:

This work was realized in an effort to honour and preserve in the memory of modern generations an art that flourished in the island of Crete throughout the 19th and in the early 20th century and which is slowly and imperceptibly disappearing today, undermined by the pressure of modern technology and the shrinkage of the demand in handy products used by people in their everyday lives in earlier times.

It is the art of manufacturing the hand - made Cretan dagger, which has been so much loved by the Cretans, but in a few years will cease to be manufactured in the traditional manner, since faceless technology is gradually replacing the art, skill, mastery and creative enthusiasm of the last Cretan dagger - manufacturers.

The Cretan dagger, inseparable companion of every Cretan in the old times, accompanied the Cretans wherever they went, either as travelers or as immigrants, when in hard times some of them where forced to abandon their beautiful island. Thus, the Cretan dagger can be found not only in Crete and in the other regions of Greece, but also at the ends of the earth ; from Egypt to Russia and from the U.S.A. and Canada to Australia, either in the houses of Cretans as a valuable heirloom, or in second - hand and antique shops, dusted and without identity, among a heap of disparate objects, waiting for the person that will recognize and obtain it, paying a certain amount in consideration. Each of them hides its own story, humble or glorious, connected with the island of Crete and Cretan gallantry.

Since, then, tradition and historical documents are of cultural value and credibility, the hand - made Cretan dagger deserves to be studied and honoured, before its traditional manufacturing technique perishes in the boundless course of time. For, above all, whenever a traditional art perishes, human culture is impoverished.

The Cretan Dagger, History:

One of the first tools manufactured by man, which helped him survive in the long and difficult era of the dawn of civilization, is the dagger, the first edged weapon. In manufacturing it, man imitated the shape of the nails of wild animals, with which they catch and kill their prey. One of the most ancient specimens of daggers in the form we know them today was found in Gebel El Arak , Egypt . It is made of processed obsidian stone and it has an ivory hilt, decorated with embossed portrayals of scenes inspired by war. This dagger was manufactured circa 3.400 BC and is kept today in the Louvre Museum . However, daggers approaching the age of 5.000 years have also been found in China , Mesopotamia and Iran 's Luristan. Exquisite double - edged bronze and copper daggers were manufactured in Mycenaean Greece from 1.500 BC onwards, which were brought by merchants motivated by profit to many other distant regions in Europe , since the export trade of weapons thrived during the Mycenaean age. However, in classical Greece too, there was a flourish in the fabrication of numerous edged weapons, mainly daggers, which were used in the innumerable wars that ravaged Greece during the classical age. At the heyday of Mycenaean civilization, daggers of notable quality were manufactured in Minoan Crete, which bequeathed to us many brilliant works of an advanced and, at the same time, singular civilization. However, few specimens have survived to our days. Among the exhibits of the Heraklion Museum there is a Minoan age statuette of a warrior from Sitia, armed with a dagger presenting certain similarities to modern Cretan daggers. It should be mentioned that, according to ancient Greek mythology, edged weapons and war helmets were first fabricated in Crete , since it was the Couretes, Zeus's retinue, who were considered to be their inventors.

The defence needs of the biggest Greek island resulted in the development of metallurgy and, by extension, the manufacturing of weapons in Crete during the classical age, when the island's archers enjoyed high renown throughout Greece and Asia Minor for their skill in using their weapons. During the Roman era, the Romans had a bitter experience of the Cretan's battle skills and the accuracy of their archers during their efforts to occupy the island.

In the Middle Ages, and specifically in the 9th century, Crete was occupied by the Saracenes, who came from Spain . Using the island as base of their operations, they plagued the entire eastern Mediterranean with their raids. The Saracenes of Crete manufactured various types of weapons on the island and used them to arm their ships and crews during their naval raids.
After the victorious campaign of Nicephorus Phocas and the vanquishment of the Saracenes of Crete, the island was restored to Byzantine rule, under which it remained until the early 13th century, when it was vested in the Venetians as their valuable booty from the share - out of the Byzantine Empire 's lands, after the latter had been dismantled by the Crusaders of the Fourth Crusade.

The Venetians kept Crete under their domination for more than 450 years. This was made possible by the excellent organization of their administrative machine and by the defense system they had deployed on the island, whereby, in addition to the powerful regular military forces, defense was reinforced by a local militia of Cretan archers, renowned throughout the East, and by the forces of the Greek and Italian landowners of the island. The latter forces were certainly armed with weapons manufactured on the island by Cretan craftsmen. Written sources referring to the revolution of the Psaromilingos, which was a noble Cretan family, against the Venetians in the mid- 14th century testify to the use of daggers for military purposes in the Middle Ages. During that revolution, the Cretan rebels were armed with arches, spears, bludgeons, large knives and axes'. According to the oral tradition, during the Venetian occupation there were dagger manufacturing workshops in Heraklion of Crete, established at exactly the same site as they are today.

After the conquest of the island by the Turks, the island's metallurgists continued to fabricate exquisite metallurgical products, including daggers, which acquired special value during the 19th century repeated revolutions of the Cretans, who thirsted for freedom.

The sentimental and, at the same time, practical value of the Cretan dagger in battle did not perish in our century, since the Cretan dagger was the necessary complement of every gallant Cretan youth's armament in the struggle over Macedonia, the Balkan Wars, the Asia Minor Campaign and even during the Second World War, when the weapons of Cretan partisans included the traditional Cretan dagger, symbol of Cretan gallantry and the spirit of Crete's resistance against any conqueror.

- the yataghan of Daskaloyannis, the leader of the Cretan revolt against the Turks in 1770 -

The Cretan Dagger, Characteristics and Manufacturing:

The typical Cretan dagger with the form it preserved todate was born in the late 18th century and has a shape reminding of a dart. Its distinct shape was adopted by the Cretans with enthusiasm and resisted the course of time. Fire, anvil, steel, hammer, long-handled pliers and the dagger -manufacturer's dexterity are the necessary elements for manufacturing the Cretan dagger. Its steel blade is sturdy and has only one edge, while the side opposite to the edge, the dagger's "back", is flat, reinforced in its base and it grows gradually thinner on approaching the tip, ending at a very sharp point. The blade's shape is straight; the side of the edge, a little before the end of the blade, curves sharply and ends at the point, which has a slight upward gradient. The blade's length varies. In the mid -19th century Cretan dagger manufacturers fabricated oversized daggers, the length of which could reach 80 cm. These huge daggers could be used as sabres too. The manufacturing singularity of the Cretan dagger's point endows it with great penetrability. The part of the dagger opposite to its pointed part is called "root" and this is where the hilt was fixed, earlier with six pins (pertsinia), today with only three.

The Cretan dagger's hilt is called "manika". Its shape varies. However, three are the dominant types. In the first the hilt's end resembles a bird's beak, in the second the shape of the hilt's end is the same as in the 18th and 19th century cutlasses and in the third, which is the classical Cretan type, the hilt's end is V -shaped. The V- shaped hilt is the most common and appears only in Cretan daggers, endowing them with a singularity of type, since in no other place in the world are daggers with a hilt of similar shape manufactured.

This peculiar hilt is always made of animal matter, horn or bone, while in the most lavishly manufactured daggers it is made of ivory. Hilts which are not made of this precious material are made of white bone, derived mainly from ox feet, which the dagger manufacturers, even today, boil in a mixture of water, ash and lime for about five hours, exactly as they used to do two centuries ago, so that it will acquire a bright white colour, and then they grind it before using it. More rarely, however, daggers had deep- coloured hilts made of horn. The numerous flocks of sheep and goats of Crete and the stout horns of its buffaloes still provide today ample raw material for the horn-made hilts of daggers, while, more rarely, hilts are made from the island's wild goats' horns, known as kri - kri. The stoutest and most durable horns for making hilts are the ram's and the billy-goat's. Among ram horns they prefer the "gold - coloured ones, with undulations", while buffalo horns are more glossy and lustrous, but they wear out faster than ram horns. Dagger - manufacturers leave nothing to chance. They choose carefully the animal horns that they will use for making the manikes (hilts). They mainly prefer those of male animals, which thus offer their horn weapons for the manufacturing and embellishment of human weapons. Daggers with dark - coloured hilts are called mavromanika. Each bone or horn suffices for only one hilt.

Great aesthetic value lies in the silver "foukaria" (scabbards) of the silver-sheathed daggers. The distinct perfection of the Cretan silversmiths' art is concentrated in these objects. The same holds good for their singular artistic expression, manifested in a vivid and expressive manner on the cylindrical surfaces of the daggers' silver scabbards.

The Cretan Dagger in Manners. Customs and Popular Beliefs of Crete:

The importance of the Cretan dagger's symbolic value in the social life of Crete survived even until recently. One of the nuptial customs in Crete required from the future bride - groom to offer his fiancee, in addition to the other gifts, a small silver dagger, the argyrobounialaki. This small dagger, which was part of the Cretan women's costume, was thereafter worn by the Cretan girl on her waist, tucked inside her long blue - red silk sash, exactly as men wore their own, in all balls and celebrations.

From a semiological point of view, the dagger indicated to other men that the girl was betrothed or married and that she belonged to one and only man. As a symbolism, it reminded the girl herself that she ought to be devoted to her husband and that the price she would pay for any infidelity would be her own life. However, in addition to its symbolic significance, the dagger also had practical value, because the young Cretan woman would be able to defend herself and her dignity when in danger. For the success of the wedding ritual and the stable foundation of the new family, Cretan customs prescribed earlier that a small black - hilted dagger be placed on the bride's shoe before and during the wedding ceremony, so that the "spells" of those envying her fortune would not work. Earlier, they used to believe in Crete that if the couple held a black - hilted dagger during the wedding ceremony, it would be able to counteract any "spells" that might have been cast on them aiming at the solution of the marriage. Finally, after the wedding ceremony the newly - wed couple had to etch a cross on the threshold of their house with a black - hilted dagger, so that evil spirits would be prevented from entering and haunting it. The symbolic significance of the dagger and its great metaphysical value in protecting humans against the fiendish powers of the invisible world and "ill - fated moments" was deeply rooted in Crete . Tiny black - hilted daggers were used in manufacturing talismans for young children and talismans for protecting epileptics from the bad influence of the moon and the possessed from the pernicious influence of demons. Furthermore, when a woman lost one of her children, she used to hang small black - hilted daggers with crosses etched on their hilts around her other children's necks as talismans, so that the Grim Reaper would not take them too.

The Cretan Dagger and Magical Ceremonies:

Daggers, always black - hilted, since black - hilted daggers were feared by the demons, played a leading part in the practice of magic in the sublunar world of sorcerers. The sorcerer, master of love and hatred, in proceeding with his work of magic according to his wishes or those of the man or woman who had requested his assistance, used a black - hilted dagger in his spells and rituals of any nature. In their effort to dominate over the powers of nature, to transgress against its known laws and to control the lives of humans with the help of demons, sorcerers used black - hilted daggers, with which they traced a circle on the ground and then poked it in its centre. Then they entered the circle and uttered some cryptic words and secret names. In this way they summoned the demons and ordered them, according to their wishes, protected from their malicious power inside the circle they had traced with their dagger. The dagger should not have been used in any other work before this procedure. The tracing of the circle and the invocation of demons that followed constituted, according to tradition, the consummation of the sorcerer's magic skills. The tracing of the magic circle with black - hilted daggers was exercised by the island's sorcerers mainly during their meetings with demons, called "davetia". The most typical description of the tracing of a magic circle with a black -hilted dagger in Crete for obtaining a magic purpose is provided by Nikos Politis in his description of the instruction of the lyra - player by the Fairies, so that he would be able to play the lyra with great virtuosity:

"Whoever wants to become a good lyra - player should go to an isolated crossroads at midnight. First he should trace a circle on the ground with a black - hilted dagger, then enter it, stay there and start playing the lyra. A little later the Fairies will come and start hanging around him. Their purpose is not good, they want to do him harm, but since they cannot enter the circle, which has been traced with a black - hilted dagger, they try to lure him out in every possible way. They use blarney, they sing him nice songs, they wheedle him in a thousand and one different ways, but if he is wise, he must remain calm and continue to play the lyra without leaving the circle. If they fail, they invite him out of the circle in order to teach him how to play the lyra better. He must refuse. Then they will ask him to give them the lyra. The lyra - player should give it, cautious to let his arm or other part of his body out of the circle, because it will be amputated or he will go insane. Then a Fairy starts playing the lyra with great virtuosity and afterwards they return the lyra to him, hoping that he will be persuaded to leave the circle and they will be able to harm him". According to the description of Nikos Politis, the continuous interchange of the instrument between the Fairies and the lyra - player, without anyone of them passing the limits of the circle traced with the black - hilted dagger, continues all night long until the first cock crows. Then they ask him to give them something of his own and they promise to teach him how to play the lyra like them in return. The lyra - player usually gives them one of his nails and they in turn teach him how to play the lyra with great virtuosity and then disappear at daybreak. For this reason, in earlier times, if a lyra player played his instrument with outstanding virtuosity, he used to say: "What do you think? I learnt to play the lyra at the crossroads".

TO CHANIA IN SEARCH OF A KNIFE

2009-10-08T20:05:00.030+03:00

Dear Friends,

Last year, after having learned that the best traditional Cretan knives were made in Chania, I traveled there for the express purpose of purchasing one of these knives for my son. After examining what seemed like a multitude of knives in one particular shop, I bought a specific one, because I liked the “saying” that was engraved on the blade. It read, “I give this present to you, a proud and strong man of good character. Carry it on your belt and remember me forever.” I presented it to my son at Christmas. I think that it meant something really special to him – it also meant something very special to me as well! This knife had a stainless steel blade, and bone handle, with a wooden sheath. There were other traditional Cretan knives that also had the stainless steel blades but that had ornately engraved silver sheaths. These knives were substantially more expensive! I was a little hesitant to purchase one of these knives with the silver sheathes, because I was afraid it might be pilfered (stolen) from my one piece of checked luggage when it went through customs. When the knife that I had purchased for my son last year successfully made it through customs, and had not been removed from my luggage, I decided that I might take a chance and purchase one of the traditional Cretan knives with the silver sheath this year. So, this morning, October 8, 2009, I traveled from the little seaside village of Amoudara into downtown Iraklion. Once in Iraklion, I purchased a round trip ticket from Iraklion to Chania and back to Iraklion. My bus pulled away from the station at just after 7:30 A.M. By 10:30 A.M. I was in Chania. I had the addresses of several makers and sellers of traditional Greek knives. Some of these addresses I had procured from the T.V. series which aired on the Travel Channel starring Samantha Brown. After my arrival in Chania, I pulled out my map and began looking for Sifaka Street. I found it without much difficulty. Sifaka Street is known for its knife makers and its knife sellers. I looked at several shops for the traditional Greek knife with the silver sheath, before returning to the very first one that I had visited. It was O Armenis located at 14 Sifaka Street. I reexamined several of the knives I had briefly looked at my first trip and decided on the largest traditional Cretan knife that he had. It was a splendid display of polished steel, white bone and ornate silver! The stainless steel blade brightly reflected the rays of the morning sun; the white bone handle, made from the hoof of a cow, was smooth and felt like it belonged in my hand; and, the silver sheath had a soft patina acquired from sitting on the shelf. I asked him where the knife had been made, and he proudly stuck out his chest, smiled, and said, “I am the maker of that knife.” Then I asked if he had also made the silver sheath, knowing that it was highly unlikely the knife maker was also a silversmith. “No, I did not work the silver sheath. It was made by silver workers here in Chania”, he said in his heavy Greek accent. I believed him to be an honest man. On the silver sheath was stamped, “.925”. I knew what this meant. The sheath was made from 92.5% pure silver. Some lower grades of silver are fashioned from .825, which is 82.5% pure silver. This sheath was made from a higher grade of silver, used mostly in fine jewelry. It had a “poem” inscribed on the blade. I asked him for the interpretation, but I wasn’t able to fully understand what he said. Then, I asked him the price...and I reeled! Was I willing to take the chance of packing it in my luggage and possibly having it stolen? I couldn’t possibly take it on board the airplane with me for the trip back to the USA. O.K., life is nothing but chances, nothing but a gamble...nothing ventured – nothing gained. I bought the knife. The owner, who was also the knife maker, and I shook hands to seal the deal as gentlemen, and I paid him his price. I think the knife is a beautiful example of Cretan workmanship. After leaving his shop, I spent but a short while at the little harbor of Chania, took some photos, and then made my way back to the bus station for the trip back to Iraklion. I had completed what I had set out to do; there was little reason for me to spend more time in Chania. Besides, the big toe on my right foot, which I had injured just two weeks before, hiking the Samaria Gorge, was telling me to get off my feet! Ha. Ha. I returned to Amoudara at about 4:00 P.M., checked my E-mail and then proceeded down to Popi’s Taverna on the beach for a couple of Mythos beers. Ahhhhhh, life is good!!!

I have attached some photos from my trip to Chania today. I hope you enoy them.

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

Your Friend and Fellow “Silent Warrior”,

Bob Armistead

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: This is the knife-maker at O Armenis in Chania who made the traditional Cretan knife which I bought for my son.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: This is the traditional Cretan knife with the silver sheath which I bought at the O Armenis knife shop in Chania. It is 40cm in length (15.75 inches).

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: This is the view of the harbor in Chania, looking north.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: This is the view of the harbor in Chania, looking northesast.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The lighthouse in the harbor in Chania.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: One of the horses that pulls carriages around the harbor area.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: The fountain near the harbor in Chania.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: I just liked the splash of color at the front of this shop near the harbor in Chania.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: I couldn't resist photographing this sign out front of a little bar on the harbor in Chania.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: This is the entrance to the Catholic Church in Chania. Click on the photo to get a larger view of the Crucifix through the doorway.

UPPER LEFT PHOTO: One of the many narrow streets in Chania crowded with small shops.

UPPER RIGHT PHOTO: This narrow street had almost nothing but small shops selling leather good.