Near the left edge is the < carat showing an approximate location of the camera as it made the view at the top of the previous page. When the notation on that road mentions "West Gate" it refers to the one on Arkansas Highway Five. "Fahv" in Southern-Speak. "Fah-EEEVE" in Conrad Ward's impatient response to correction by an unaccented speaker.

The first time Ah went to town in Little Rock Ah ordered a Coke at the soda fountain in the drugstore at the corner of Capitol (Fifth) and Main. The girl soda-jerk asked if I were from California. "Yes," says I, "How could you tell?" "You talk like a radio announcer: no accent." See there?

Off to the right on the map is Base Headquarters, location of the Finance Office where Ah spent fifty-nine days as an adder of small-stores receipts. Ah learned and practiced ten-key, checked and rechecked the stack of papers, the speed-at-RPM figures and swept-volume-at-overbore in hundredths of an inch increments, and any other calculations Ah could think of to fill time. The actual work was an hour's worth at most. Ah was told in no uncertain terms Ah should look busy at all times, and there were an actual eight hours a day to fill.

It was during this time Senator McClellan came to have lunch with his daughter, a civilian employee in the office. She and the Base Commander gave him the grand tour. In our section he seemed to make it a point to speak with every Airman and NCO. When it was my turn he asked where I was from. "California." "And how do you like Arkansas?" "Oh, it's OK, just no beaches or ocean nearby." Well, clod that I was (am?) I didn't notice anything untoward, but as soon as they mucky-mucks left the room one of the Sergeants, face dripping concern, rushed right over to me and asked what I had said to the Senator. "He looked like you hit him when you answered!" I suppose I should have been enthusiastic about his state, and later I would be, but at that moment I just answered his question: "It ain't California."

The NCO Club is marked because we had a squadron party there on my birthday, 1958 (This date must be an error: Joe says he left LRAFB in September, 1957. When else could it have been? No idea). I learned to play "Thumper," and drank quite a bit of beer. Not enough, I guess, because when the party ran out, I hitched a ride with a group who went to the Ship Ahoy bar in Little Rock. On the way there I was one of several who needed a pee break, so the driver (Joe Hnat, I think) pulled over in front of the Capitol. There I inscribed my name on the Capitol steps in used beer, expressing my disdain for the Man In Charge of Arkansas, Governor Orval "Little Orvie" Faubus.

At the "Ship" I lost a few more rounds of Thumper. And then a few more. Eventually I was ensconced in the left rear seat of Joe Hnat's car, a '52-or-so Dodge-or-Plymouth coupe. On the ten-mile ride to LRAFB's West Gate, I was dull but continent. As we rolled through the security position I rolled down the window—which opened only half a face-width, unfortunately—and vomited on the Air Policeman's shoes.

Back in the barracks I staggered to the mop closet and got a bucket, filled it with water, and was crawling toward the second-floor landing, pushing the bucket ahead of me, intending to wash Joe's car when he stopped me, which I think I was hoping for. The next morning was significant in that I was at work and did what I needed to do, and that being alive was intense in such unpleasant ways I didn't overindulge to such an extent for another six years, and only a couple of times again, at all.

Joe Hnat, nice a guy as you'd want to meet, and respected by everyone, was the fellow who introduced me around the work area (in the barracks, first floor of the building we lived on the second floor of) on my first day. First person he introduced me to was "Lieutenant Rubberneck." Huh? Gnat presenting me to Rubberneck? Am I awake here? I edged my way around to get a glimpse of the sign-out board, where I could eventually discern "H N A T" and "R E B E N N A C K." Some in the squadron called Joe, "Airman High Nat." Almost everyone called Lieutenant Rebennack, "Milt." I had a short email correspondence with "Dr. John, The Night Tripper" (Mac Rebennack), about these and some New Orleans days.

OK, last stop on the marked locations: Bldg. 1036. I'm pretty sure this is the Commissary, already mentioned above. The time I worked here must have been around Christmas or Thanksgiving, 1958. Aside from there having been one of Little Rock's infrequent snowstorms (I had to use the hand crank to turn the TD engine a time or two before the starter would work) the merchandise at the commissary included big piles of frozen turkeys.

One early AM, shelf-stocking completed, floors mopped and polished, all that remained was to haul out the cardboard cartons, flatten them, and chuck them in the White Elephant (Dempsey Dumpster). One of my coworkers had a tall armlaad of boxes and misstepped on a patch of ice on the loading dock. He lost the balance of the stack of boxes, as well as his own, and they all came crashing down. Out of the bottom box bounced two 20-pound turkeys. They pirouetted and tiptoed and slid palely down the icy driveway to the road, which they crossed in the glare of an Air Police patrol car's headlights. Very embarrassing.

There are a number of worthwhile stories about unmarked places on the map. As I find time and motive I will mark and tell, or tell and mark, or just tell. Not much chance I'll just mark.

I don't remember what we called this old mill. The "Guide..." says it is near the Lakewood community in North Little rock .

When I enjoyed it we had to crawl under a chain link fence. Inside we found and perched on a millstone about the diameter of a dining table. The stone was lying on a flat side, and was about 30 inches thick. The views toward the lake were lovely, and the reverse views may still be found in jigsaw puzzles.

There was a very nice two-lane road that ran along the edge of the lake, under the trees. At any season it was one of the most pleasant drives you could find anywhere, particularly in a sports car with the top down.