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OBServation SquadRON Sixty Seven
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VO-67 2001 ReunionVO-67 2001 ReunionVO-67 2001 Reunion

Reunion 2020

Fort Lauderdale, FL
October 4-10, 2020

Updated 27SEP2019
Reunion 2017

San Diego, CA
July 25-30, 2017

Updated 12MAR2017
Reunion 2015

San Diego, CA
July 15-19, 2015

Updated 17NOV2014
Reunion 2013

San Diego, CA
July 11-13, 2013

Updated 18MAR2013
Reunion 2011

Washington, DC
June 16-18, 2011

Updated 02MAR2011
Reunion 2009

San Diego, California
June 17-21, 2009

Updated 07SEP2008
Reunion 2007

Las Vegas, Nevada
April 23-26, 2007

Updated 22FEB2004
Reunion 2005

San Diego, California
Summer 2005

Updated 22FEB2004
Reunion 2003

Pensacola, Florida
May 9th through 11th, 2003
2003 Reunion
Reunion 2001

Reno, Nevada
March 23rd through 24th, 2001
2003 Reunion
Reunion 1999

Las Vegas, Nevada
July 3rd through 5th, 1999
2003 Reunion

Updated 05OCT2003

VO-67 Reunions


Autumn leaves rustling, together to the appointed place, the old warriors come.
Like Pilgrims drifting across the land they fought to preserve.
Where they meet is not important any more.
Greetings echo across a lobby.
Hands reach out and arms draw buddies close.

Embraces, that as young men they were too uncomfortable to give, too shy to accept so lovingly.
But deep within these Indian Summer days, they have reached a greater understanding of life and love.
The shells holding their souls are weaker now, but hearts and minds grow vigorous, remembering.
On the table someone spreads out photographs, a test of recollection.
And friendly laughter echoes at shocks of hair gone gray or white, or merely gone.

The rugged slender bodies lost forever.
Yet they no longer need to prove their strength.
Some are now sustained by one of "Medicine's miracles," and even in this fact, they manage to find humor.
The women, all those that waited, all those who loved them, have watched the changes take place.
Now, they observe and listen, and smile at each other, as glad to be together as the men.

Talk turns to war, and planes, and foreign lands.
Stories are told and told again, re-weaving the threadbare fabric of the past.
Mending one more time the banner of their youth.
They hear the vibrations, feel the shutter of metal as engines whine and whirl, and planes come to life.
These birds with fractured wings can be seen beyond the mist of clouds, and they are in the air again.

Chasing the wind, feeling the exhilaration of flight close to the heavens.
Dead comrades, hearing their names spoken, wanting to share in this time, if only in spirit, move silently among them.
Their presence is felt and smiles appear beneath misty eyes.
Each, in his own way may wonder who will be absent in another year.

The room grows quiet for a time.
Suddenly an ember flames to life. Another memory burns.
The talk may turn to other wars, and other men, and of futility.
So, this is how it goes. The past is so much the present.
In their ceremonies, the allegiances, the speeches and the prayers, one cannot help but hear the deep eternal love of country and comrades they will forever share.

Finally, it is time to leave.
Much too soon to set aside this little piece of yesterday, but the past cannot be held too long, for it is fragile.
They say, "Farewell" ..."See you another year, God willing."
Each keeps a little of the others with him forever

By Rachel Firth

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