I had just turned 19 and I'll never forget this day . I was stationed at Langley Field and at mid-afternoon it all started with two B-24's buzzing the base and doing some un-B-24 maneuvers, one almost in the main street as it flew through. The next 24 hours were the worst that ever could be imagined. All hell broke loose with a never ending uncontrollable riot of violence. I have written about it and put it away somewhere because I don't think that anyone would believe me. I was a base MP at the time and my fellow MP's and I weren't sure that we would survive without injury or worse. The only person that I knew that could verify it died several years ago. Jack T. lived in Lake Stevens nearby. He was assigned to the base hospital and said that he remembered me when I was bringing in casualties in the never-ending stream of injured people, most of them women. Things calmed down by 1700 the next day and I crashed for the rest of the night. My uniform was ripped, stained with blood and vomit. It was thrown away but I still got a statement of charges for it and had to pay for a new set of suntans. Such is the military. For weeks after, the atmosphere was weird because everybody wondered what the heck to do next now that the war was over.