On a hot day in early summer of 1953, a young lieutenant flew my F-86F, s/n 52-4397, and together we preflighted the aircraft. I squared him away in the cockpit and off he went. In less than an hour, he landed safely, taxied down the ramp, and parked the plane.

Helping him out of the cockpit I asked, "How did the plane fly? Was everything okay?" He responded that he heard a big rattle during landing and taxiing in. He asked me to check it out, and if it wasn't bad, to fix it. He wouldn't write it up.

Earlier I had taped a can of beer inside the expended ammo can. At high altitude the can would get cold, but it had come loose. I told him everything was okay, nothing major. He then saw the can of beer in my hand and asked if that was what made the rattling noise. I said, "Yes sir!" His next question was, "Do you have a can opener?" Again, I said, "Yes sir!" He told me to open it. I opened the can, and then he took the beer can from my hand and took a drink. Walking away with my beer, he turned and told me to put two cans in the next time. I hollered, "C'mon lieutenant!" He turned, smiled, tipped the can and continued to walk away. I can't remember his name, but he still owes me a beer.