Back in the early 50's, some 46 years ago, Sergeant Ken and a number of other enlisted folks at Fairchild's 92nd Bombardment Wing got assigned to temporary duty having nothing to do with being combat aircrew members. They were detailed to help build some wooden two-story barracks on the base, of a design similar to those hastily thrown up during WWII.

On a knoll behind Base Operations, and with a terrific view of the flightline and air traffic, they built three or four of those structures to house new personnel. A few base civil engineering folks supervised the efforts of those construction conscripts, many of who had never used a hammer, much less actually building anything.

Not surprisingly, after a few days those unhappy men who would have been much happier flying than pounding nails,started looking for ways to slack off. Some quickly recognized that they could not pound nails if they had no hammers, so hammers began disappearing. Many of them wound up inside the building walls, between the studs in the cavity created by outer sheathing and interior plywood panels.

Some 15 to 20 years later it was decided, by those in charge of buildings and such, that those old barracks were no longer needed. And besides they were old wooden fire traps just waiting for a careless cigarette or match to bring them down. A civilian contractor was hired to remove those buildings to make way for new construction.

Sergeant Ken and some of his contemporaries were curious about what was happening to those barracks that they had labored to build years ago. So one morning they walked over to the site to watch the demolition work, while remembering their involuntary assignment and recalling amusing incidents of the time.

Suddenly, one of the civilian demolition workers shouted to one of his colleagues, "Hey, you guys, look what I found. There's a bunch of hammers here in the wall. Now how in the hell did they get there?"