I would like to raise a glass to all who have known the softness of a winter landing on Malamute DZ, when all the landings are stand up because the snow is up to your fourth piont of contact. To those of us who have been told to assemble on the amber rotating beacon, only to discover that the snow removal equipment that night on the airstrip at Donally DZ was sporting the same. (The snow up there was much deeper.) To those who have been in the Yukon training area at 0'dark thirty on an endless movement to contact, looked up at the sky and been struck dumb by the most awesome laser light show that Mother Natiure could give. To anyone who has shot for qualification at 20 below. To those who have struck a tree with his rifle butt just to make the snow fall on the poor bastard walking behind. To those who have seen the blue ice of Spencer glacier and had their hands bruised and bloodied by uncounted attempts to arrest their slide with an ice axe. I raise a toast to the memory of Private Knowleton. ( My apologies if the spelling is incorrect, it has been quite a while.) A confused young man who had only just turned 18 and thought that his problems were so unreconcileable that they could only be solved by sucking on the end of his M-16. I can not tell you all why this has so affected me that I am compelled the write about it 18 years after the fact, I don't rightly know myself. He and I were not friends, he was just another cherry in another platoon. In fact, I narrowly avoided a fight after callously voicing my opinion of young Knowleton's final decision in front of someone who knew him far better than I. (My apologies Pfc. Tagay.) He would have been thirty six years old this year. I do apoplogize if I have brought anyone down, that was not my intent.

To the troops of the Arctic Airborn Infantry, I raise a glass. Make mine a Jamesons.

Sean68

All the way, sir!!!

No, we haven't but I'm sure it's in the works.