You Can't Go Home Again

Yesterday I departed Anaheim for a couple of days in San Diego.  On my way, I stopped at what used to be Marine Corps Air Station El Toro.  This base was closed in the 90's as part of the whole base closure plan. 
I was stationed here from 1984 to 1987, when my enlistment ended.  This was a big base with many squadrons and very diverse aircraft.  I was assigned to H&MS-11, an aircraft maintenace group.  We supported several of the squadrons - from F18's to my personal favorite, the RF-4B.  The F-4 is an old plane, dating back to the 60's and Vietnam.  The thing screams when it's on approach, and there is no other sound like it in this world. 

I have many fond memories of my time in El Toro.  Sinple things like life in the barracks, working in the mobile support trailers, and the good friends along the way.  And other memories typical of men and women in their early 20's - downing a couple of beers just before a morning squadron run.  I never said we were that bright!

Anyone that's served in the military will understand that your base is your home.  You work there, you live there, your world is enclosed by those gates.  To see it go away is like losing a part of yourself. 

My base still sits there, falling apart and overgrown.  Some of the area has been repurposed, but the bulk of it is still there.  The flight line and tower, the barracks, the PX, even the guard house at the main entrance.  All ghosts of their former selves.

As I drove the outer perimeter yesterday, I spotted hundreds of RVs.  What?  RVs?  I found an open entrance, and a civilian standing by the gate.  Turns out my old flight line, which used to house F-4s, F-18s, and other miscellaneous aircraft, was now an RV storage lot. 

I asked if I could drive around the "lot" to have a look at the buildings.  The attendant said he wasn't supposed to let me do that, but given my history with this place, he would let me.  Above is the control tower, surrounded by RVs. The 4 squadron buildings still stand, along with other support facilities.

As I drove through this tangle of RVs and my own memories, I felt very sad.  A lot of good people did a lot of good things here, and now it's been left to rot.  I wonder if I would have felt better about it if they'd torn everything down?