The Christmas card mentioned that Lynn had finally had an operation to repair "that shoulder." The operation went well and he was back to fishing within the month. No other mention but those who know him also remember "that shoulder" was injured when he ejected from his OV-10 Bronco in the low mountains just west of Hanoi. The date was Dec. 26, 1971, and marked the start of a 15-month "extended vacation" as a guest in the workers' paradise, the Democratic Republic of Vietnam.

A typical GI can always find something to complain about mess hall chow, or as we in the Air Force called it "food in the dining hall." I guess Lynn Guenther wasn't typical because he never complained, instead he'd say, "I've eaten worse."

When he arrived on base to be assigned family housing none was available for a major so he was offered a captain's house, "No problem, I've lived in worse!"

He came to me in 1978. I was commander of a KC-135 Squadron, the 46th ARefSq in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It was a location most perceived as not exactly choice climate-wise. Always needing pilots, I had received a call from Air Force Headquarters Personnel that they had a major available to come to my unit but he had had some problems checking out in the aircraft. One other bit of information; he was a POW returnee from Hanoi and would I take him?

"Bring him on; he is exactly what I need." I answered. I can just hear Lynn responding when he was told that he was going to K.I. "No problem I have lived in a worse place."

Spending time with Lynn was quite an education in how a positive attitude makes life so much better.

Late nights on alert, Lynn would sit for hours reminiscing about his time in captivity. Alert was a way of life during most of my career and I was one of the few who elected to pull the duty when I became a Commander. We flight crew members would spend a week at a time away from our families living in an isolated part of the base in a partially underground facility next to our "cocked" aircraft. The concept was that when "the horn sounded" we could all take off and scatter like quail thus increasing our odds of surviving a nuclear blast by our enemy of the time, the USSR. Our bombers, loaded with nuclear weapons and assigned specific targets, mostly in the enemy country of choice, were sitting side-by-side with the tankers I flew and the crewmembers all ate slept and complained together. Sounds like a tough life but for us "SAC-trained killers" the biggest problem was combating boredom -- hence the late-night talk sessions.

Lynn related that his aircraft had been hit with a ground-to-air missile. On ejection that particular system simply fired the seat and pilot through the unopened canopy. On the way out, a sliver of plastic pierced one eye and his left arm flailed in the slipstream, tearing muscles and tendons in his shoulder. He was captured almost immediately by armed and grim-faced irregulars who watched his parachute descend.

Promptly turned over to the PRV, he was bound and loaded on a truck for transport to the "Hilton." First though the PRV soldiers made him remove his boots and then strip naked to be searched. Well, Lynn had attended a Christmas party the night before and being a "new guy" on base, NKP Thailand, he had been initiated into the Jolly Green Giant combat rescue fraternity. At the party, he'd been made to bare his rear end and a large footprint in permanent green paint had been stamped on each bare cheek. When the DRV soldiers spotted the green footprints they had laughed, pointed and made great commotion.

Lynn thought, "Maybe this won't be so bad if these guys have a sense of humor." Bad first impression; that assessment was flat wrong, it being the last evidence of any humor that he was to experience from his captors over the next 15 months.

Several days after being captured and experiencing zero medical attention, an English-speaking guard came into his cell and informed him that he was to be operated on that day. Lynn said he expressed relief because "that shoulder" really was painful. "No not your shoulder, your eye!" was the guard's response.

I have related before how a Chinese doctor had operated, with no anesthetics, to remove the plastic slivers and hence save the eye. It must have been a horrible ordeal for a terrified young American in a land where he couldn't even understand a word spoken. The operation was a partial success, though. When I got him in the late '70s, Lynn was the only Air Force pilot on flight status that was authorized to wear a contact lens.

Lynn turned out to be a good pilot and great crew commander for me. Several years after I left the squadron it was carved in two and a new squadron stood up. The new squadron was given the number 407th, which was the first Air Refueling Squadron that I had been assigned at Great Falls, Montana back in 1960.

That squadron was then disbanded when our KC-97s were retired. I was honored to take part in the ceremony at K.I. Sawyer AFB which made Lt. Col. Lynn Guenther, commander of the new 407th, the best job in the Air Force.

As to the shoulder, Lynn told us that nothing was ever done to help and it healed on its own as best it could. Evidently in retirement, as best it could, wasn't good enough and modern surgery has now made it all better. What a guy!

That is the way I see it.