What I remember the most about Guam was the heat.
Most people hated going to Guam, for some reason. I absolutely loved it with all of my heart. It was there, I think, that I figured out that the location I live matters little--as long as it's warm.
We dropped SEALs on the island all the time--from high altitudes, all the way down to 1000' over the surface of the water. They were awesome. Cliche'd word, I know--but I honestly can't think of a better way to describe them. Tougher than anyone I've ever worked with, and some of the coolest and easy-going men I've known. One of the guys in this photo had over 10,000 drops and had shattered his legs three times.
I haven't flown in almost four years. There's a good possibility that I'll be going back to flying soon--hopefully in the same training capacity that I loved so much before. My limited experience in the C-130 is kind of summed up in this photo, which I took on one of my last live training missions just prior to 9/11. I like the darkness sillhouetting the jumpers and the loadmaster, and the beautiful sky beyond them. It makes me feel like a part of my life and career that I left behind can still be seen, but grows darker with the passage of time.