MEMORY LANE

I remember Gene Malito

From: Peter Feliciano
To: Eugene Malito
Sent: Saturday, April 29, 2006 10:30 PM
Subject: I DO remember you

Hi Gene

Odd thing, when building the Malito album (2nd page), I was too busy to take more than a glancing look at individual photos themselves. I was more concerned with the size, how to crop it, and how to make a thumbnail version where the individual persons would still be recognizable. I remember, though, looking at the 3rd to last photo and thinking, "Gee, that's such a familiar face!" But then I must have chalked it up to just a look-alike coincidence and thought nothing more of it. Now, looking at it again I can conjure up scenes of us on the Drop Zones on a sunny weekend, sky diving; jumping over and over again. I DO remember you.

I remember one particular day on the Sicily DZ. You were probably there. It was a real scorcher! The sun was beating down on us like nobody's business. I had just made a parachute jump. I had sand in my mouth, my hair, under my clothes, everywhere! My tongue was practically dragging on the ground from thirst. I couldn't wait to get back to the Viewing Stands where we repacked our chutes but, more importantly, where a huge pot of freezing cold clear water was waiting for us. There was a young civilian standing by the pot of water looking like he was standing guard over it. I took the big dipper that always hung on the side of the pot and started to scoop me out a big dipper full. The civilian spoke up," 'scuse me, there's a spider in the water." Sure enough, there was a daddy-long-legs at the bottom. I said, "your right! Don't worry about it, he won't drink too much!" and proceeded to get my belly full! As I walked away, I looked back and the civilian practically dove into the water head first. The poor guy was dying of thirst and was just waiting for someone to say, "go ahead and drink, it won't kill you!" Believe my, I didn't need such encouragement. I wasn't about to let a puny little ole spider stop me from quenching my thirst. I could whup a spider's butt any day of the week and twice on Sundays!

If I saw a photo of Lee Guilfoyle, I'm sure I could place him too. It seems to me that Lee spent as much, if not more time than I did on the DZs, not to mentions the evenings in the club house sopping suds.

There was a Sergeants that comes to mind and also a very friendly MSG (Master Sergeant) assigned as the club NCO (Noncommissioned Officer). I think he was getting ready to retire and the command MSG worked him into a cushy job. I was a Spec 4. At any rate, we three used to hang together. Once a week, we took turns buying and cooking dinner. The MSG would cook up 1 1/2 Inch steaks. I wasn't that rich on my Sp4 salary. My steaks were maybe 3/4 inchers. Serg would go low budget but he did make a great spaghetti meal! We were satisfied and enjoyed our dinners. Who knows, maybe he was paying alimony to three girl friends and was broke! He never would buy the beer either. I remember MSG and I was sitting in the living room and he motioned to me to listen for sounds in the kitchen. If you listened hard you could barely hear the fridge opening and shutting. Then we'd hear the muffled sound of a can of beer carefully being opened, f-sh-uf!. MSG would shake his head, roll his eyes and smile. But we would never embarrass Serg by letting him know we knew! After all, he went to a considerable amount of trouble trying to hide his actions from us!

Serg had a bike and I would ride with him sometimes but I wouldn't think of driving it. That was too dangerous for my taste. MSG had a nice car. He would let me borrow it anytime I wanted. No questions asked. I remember driving that thing down the DZ road at maybe 90 miles an hour. I'd take it back. He would look at the windshield filled with dead bugs and he would say, matter-of-factly, OH, you were speeding! No complaints, no recriminations, nothing. The next day I'd ask to borrow the car and he'd give it up without hesitation! Great guy! I don't even remember his name!

Anyway, those were the days!

Pete