In the fall of 2002, I was flying USAF C-130s out of Oman supplying military ops in Afghanistan. Once, flying into Kandahar, I spied an old, bent and tattered windsock between the taxiway and runway - a perfect souvenir for my flying squadron back in the States.
I ran up to the control tower and asked the mixed-service team of air traffic controllers if I could have the windsock; they thought I was crazy, but said I could take it. I got back to the plane, and walked my crew out to the windsock and we all gave it several heave-hos, but it wouldn’t budge. Time to formulate Plan B.
Two nights later I was back at Kandahar, up in the control tower to pitch my plan to the controllers: If they could get the windsock out of the ground and keep it for me at the base of the tower, I’d bring them 6 pizzas from the Pizza Hut concession at my base in Oman (pizza was a delicacy at the then ‘outpost’ of Kandahar). The controllers agreed, and would email me when the 'sock was ready for pickup.
A few days later, I got the email; the next night I had my windsock in the plane, and the controllers had their feast. I sent the windsock back to my home squadron on one of the “rotator” jets that swapped out parts and personnel from my home base the States.
Upon returning from my deployment, I had the concrete anchor removed from the end of the pole, mounted the 'sock on a base with a commemorative plaque, and placed in the squadron ready room. Perfect.
I retired from the USAF a year later, but a couple of years ago I re-visited my old squadron, which had since merged with an Air Reserve Component squadron. At some point the windsock had disappeared - neither of the current squadron commanders ever recall seeing it.
So, if anyone out there has an old, tattered windsock with a commemorative plaque from 2002, you now know the rest of the story. 