My first USAF duty station was Gila Bend AFB in Gila Bend, Arizona. This
place is way out in the desert and there really wasn't much to do back in
December of 1965. Much to my surprise, there were several other modelers
residing in the barracks. We would all get together on Friday night with
tons of snacks and beverages and sit down to build our latest control line
models. The X-acto knife was the most sophisticated tool we had.

After way to many beverages, I was trimming the plywood doublers (external)
on a Ringmaster Jr. that I was building. One slip of the knife later it was
sticking out of the meat at the base of my thumb. It didn't really hurt that
much, so I just kept trying to get it to stop bleeding by sticking tissue
paper over the cut. It was deep and after a while it became apparent that I
was going to need some help stopping the bleeding.

The next thing I know I'm standing with my friends in the dark at a closed
Air Police/Medic's shack located on the flight line waiting for someone to
show up. I have applied pressure to the wound and the stack of tissues was
using were soaked with blood.

The Air Policeman arrives and insists on seeing the wound. I explained that
it would not be a good idea to look at it out in the dark, but, being a cop,
he insisted upon having it his way. He broke out his flashlight and began
looking at my hand. Every time I tried to explain to him not to stand in a
certain spot, he would "take charge" and reorient my hand so that the palm
was square with his face/chest.

My friends had enjoyed as much beverage as I and were laughing up a storm as
the AP tried to diagnose the situation. He kept looking at them as they
laughed hysterically, but then shook his head in consternation and got back
to the job "at hand", so to speak.

No matter what I did, he wouldn't get out of the line of fire. Every time I
tried to explain what was happening, he would interrupt and make me explain
how it happened again and again. I think he was trying to discover if the
wound had been caused by an act of mischief or violence. He simply would not
be diverted from doing his duty.

What I wanted to explain was that blood was squirting a good three to four
feet in the thinnest stream of blood that I have ever seen, before or since.
The thin stream of blood was painting him really good. The wind was blowing
like the dickens, so I guess he thought he was feeling sand hitting his face
every time the stream of blood would put another X across his face and all
over his shirt and open flight jacket.

He was really quite a sight by the time the medic arrived. All of us walked
into the shack after the medic turned the lights on and immediately broke
out laughing to the point of tears at the sight of the AP. The AP was really
getting perturbed with our behavior by this time and went into the lavatory
to see for himself what all the laughing was about. You should have heard
him yell and scream when he saw himself in the mirror. I got him good! <G>

Ed Cregger
ecreg...@mindspring.com

Michael Grey <mg...@gpsocket.com> wrote