Lt. Col. David Adams was responsible for taking many photographs of the 118th Wing Aircraft, in flight or on the ground. He was an asset to the 118th Tactical Airlift Wing and the Tennessee Air National Guard. He was respected by his fellow officers and enlisted men. It was always a pleasure to see him walking down the ramp towards your aircraft.
Retired Master Sargent, Marcus L. Whitt
118th Airlift Wing, Tennessee Air National Guard
Berryfield, Nashville, TN
High Flight
by John Gilliespie Magee Jr.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds---and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence, How'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew,
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
Lt. Col. David Adams was responsible for taking many photographs of the 118th Wing Aircraft, in flight or on the ground. He was an asset to the 118th Tactical Airlift Wing and the Tennessee Air National Guard. He was respected by his fellow officers and enlisted men. It was always a pleasure to see him walking down the ramp towards your aircraft.
Retired Master Sargent, Marcus L. Whitt
118th Airlift Wing, Tennessee Air National Guard
Berryfield, Nashville, TN
High Flight
by John Gilliespie Magee Jr.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds---and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence, How'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew,
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
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