When I was driving into Tucson for the Second “last of the A-7” reunions last November, Jack Hartmann called me on my cell phone and said that Willy had been in the hospital and was now in rehab.
He told me where the rehab place was and I was pretty close, so I told him that I’d go by and see how he was doing. I charged into the front reception area and said to the pretty young thing at the receptionist desk, “Where’s Willy.”
She looked at me and said, “Willy Who?” It hit me that Willy really was in bad shape, because it usually only took about 30 seconds for an entire room full of people to know Willy was there.
So I excused myself, and said, that’s Gail Wilson II. She looked into her computer, found him, and told me that he was on the “F” wing, in room 100.
I said, are you kidding me? She said no, just go down to the right, and look for F-100, and he’s in bed A, on the far side of the room.
Sure enough, Wing F, Room 100. I went into a dark dreary room, and sitting on the first bed was an old skinny white haired geezer with a beard, just staring off into space. Probably an A-10 driver.