This is the last of a two-part series about fishing with the Commander of Fairchild Air Force Base.

As Col. Paul Guemmer and his father, Art, were casting to trout on Rocky Ford Creek, I was monitoring the anglers' progress from 30 to 50 yards and feeling a bit more confident about the fact they could see the fish. Now it was a case of trout against angler and may the best species win.

The camp stove was fired up and the frozen moose rib stew began the warming process. The main pot was aluminum and usually the frozen stew, sealed in a FoodSaver bag, was placed in boiling water. This time I opened the bag and place the stew in the pot.

It took more time than I thought to thaw the stew and it was a bit thick. No matter, the colonels were satisfied with trying to fool the resident trout while I wrestled with the stew. The end result was of the proper consistency when two 16-ounce bottles of drinking water was added and heated. It would have been better with a bottle of red wine added.

"Time to take a break and eat," I called to them. Again it was a bit thrilling to tell two colonels what to do. And they obeyed.

It was rather amusing, enjoyable and entertaining for this one-time Army Captain to tell two Air Force Colonels to stop fishing and eat or miss out on the meal.

A bottle of local red wine was opened to accompany the stew, cooked in diced tomatoes and onions with wild and brown rice. We each had three helpings of stew and two smallish glasses of wine. If we would have been spending the night at our location, I would have opened a second bottle.

They seemed to enjoy the stew and the wine was an additional delight. If I couldn't find a fish for them to catch, at least I could fill two Guemmer bellies.

As we were eating, Paul told of a fish hitting his dropper fly just before lunch. The fly was a Number 26 midge pattern designed by Art. A Number 26! There are only three smaller hooks; sizes 28, 30 and 32. The fish snapped the 6x tippet, (3-pound leader), as soon as Paul applied pressure.

 In a few minutes, the food was gone, the wine was finished and the Guemmers were anxious to get back on the water.

"OK," I said. "We have another 45 minutes before we need to head for Moses Lake, so you can leave for Spokane by 4:30," which was the agreed-upon plan.

The two Guemmers headed for the creek as I began to clean up after the lunch.

"It's now 3:15," I said 30 minutes later. "We should leave in 15 minutes if you are going to leave Moses Lake by 4:30."

Neither of the Colonels said a word, but kept casting. Art and I were near the bridge when 3:30 arrived.

"It's 3:30, time to go" I said.

"I just saw a trout go after my fly," Paul said, sounding as if he were a 10-year-old kid not wanting to quit for the day.

"Was he always like this?" I asked Art.

"Yeah," Art said. "Just one more cast Dad, or can't I fish a little longer, or do we have to leave now?"

The heart of a diehard angler does not give up easily, even if he is the Commander of Fairchild Air Force Base.

"I would like to get some photos of you casting on the dock," I said to Art.

We walked the 50 yards to the dock and began shooting photos when we heard a yell of excitement. There on the bridge was Col. Paul Guemmer holding a bent fly rod with a feisty rainbow trout on the other end.

"Don't lose him," I yelled, running to Paul's position, camera in hand and knowing my request was merely a wish, which the angler could not control, especially with a barbless hook and a light tippet on the fish-end of the line.

Now the angler was off the bridge and 10 yards downstream. The fish wasn't ready to give up and neither was the angler: A run upstream and a jump above the surface, the angler gains a few yards of line; a run downstream and a thrashing around the underwater vegetation, the fish has the advantage.

The battle continued for another 10 minutes, with give-and-take on both sides. The large rainbow continued to make run after run and splash on the surface as if trying to intimidate the Colonel.

The net was placed in the water, ready to receive the fish, but it was net-shy and took off again. Twice more the Colonel tried to ease the trout to the net and it headed for mid-stream with vigor and enthusiastic energy.

It was fishing combat at the finest; a U.S. military officer with battle-related air medals on his chest against a large trout which sees man-made flies every day, yet is seldom, if ever, caught.

At last the trout surrendered and slipped into the net. The fly was removed and it was held briefly for photos. Art put his arm around his son as a sign of pride.

"I think this is the largest trout I've ever caught," Paul said. "I literally had to put the fly in his mouth."

"What did you catch him on?" I asked.

"A woolly bugger."

"That's what the guide said to use," Art said, looking in my direction.

Paul took several minutes to work the trout in the water, making sure it was revived and would survive to fight another day. Although not officially weighed, it was clearly in the 5-pound plus category. In the angler world, it will gain weigh in time, as is the case with all memorable and unforgettable fish.

The gear was broken down and stored. The Ram was pointed in the direction of Moses Lake. The three of us again began to chatter; about the fish just caught and released, plus other outdoor experiences.

An airplane became visible in the distance. It was a KC-135.

"That's one of ours," Paul said gesturing in its direction.

Suddenly the man on the stream, the angler who was willing to use any excuse to stay just five minutes longer, to perform just one more cast, was back at the controls of an air refueling wing and Fairchild Air Force Base.

Although he was able to take a few hours off from his demanding duties, after seeing the aircraft Col. Paul Guemmer was again engrossed in his responsibilities for a few thousand airmen willing to go into harms way and keep our nation safe and the ring of freedom strong.