"Kool Karl" Sackman was a VX-6 Radioman from 1963-1967. One of the early members of the Old Antarctic Explorers Association, he made every reunion from the first Pensacola reunion in 2002 until 2008. He wrote this poem after the first Pensacola reunion. Kool Karl passed away in March of 2010.
An Old Antarctic
Explorer,
I stand with a tear in
my eye.
Well, more of a glisten
I’m saying,
I’m sure as hell not
going to cry.
The room’s filling up
with old vets,
Most I can’t say I know.
I’m searching for just a
handful,
from nearly forty years
ago.
When we were all
young then,
we reveled in all of the
glory.
Now we're just old ice
vets,
yearning to retell our
story.
“Now this is no
shit”,
Some old ice hand would
state.
“He’s telling it
straight folks”,
Comes the backing from
his mate.
Yes, this is the
reunion,
We’ve all been waiting
for.
I’m looking for my
buddies,
To stroll in through the
door.
Why, in no time I’m
joyful,
Having recognized
familiar mugs.
The room’s full of back
slaps,
Handshakes, and hugs.
“You old son of a bitch,
I thought you were
dead!”
“If I hadn’t quit
drinking,
I would be”, I said.
Later we toasted
All the good times we
had.
Hell, we even had a
drink,
To the times that were
bad.
For a precious few days,
We re-visited our youth.
Maybe our ice stories
were stretched,
But our bond was the
truth.
It ended too soon,
As these things always
do.
With solemn promises
around,
To reunite at Pt. Mugu
I waved off the last
one,
Still holding my beer.
And if you look close
enough
You’ll see
a real tear.