While this post is from 2010, I adamantly agree with BOLO on these blue helmets. I do not believe are USAF or USN issue helmets painted blue. I believe that metropolitan Police Departments in major US cities acquired these helmets via military surplus for Police to use in riot control, particularly during the 1950's and 1960's riots in Watts and Chicago. I acquired a WWII Schlueter rear seam that came with a 1965 dated Vietnam era liner that was irrefutably used by the Cleveland PD. Both the helmet and liner are marked with the cop's name and badge number and, while neither are painted blue, the chinstraps are riveted in the exact same manner as the one's referenced above. Take a look at the attached photos and note that this helmet is marked "CLEVELAND POLICE - JOSEPH PERI - PTL #1865. PTL is the abbreviation for "Patrolman.". Your blue painted M1 helmets and liners were acquired by metro police for use in riot control in the 1950s AND 1960'S. 

I am reviving this post of my ordnance collection. My hope is those needing ID of their unknown artillery will consult this line up. I will update with correct nomenclature if there is an interest.

Had this old ring long time with prop and wing insignia not sure meaning aviation or machinist mate .made in Chicago marked sterling any info on it thanks

I have seen individual's call signs incorporated on overseas (Japanese) made patches and have owbed a couple. So, it is not out of the realm of possibilities. I can see these being worn under or over a squadron patch. 

First one is early 1900s-early 1920s   Second one is a private purchase variant that I believe dates to the 1930s, though some feel it also was in use in the 1920s    

We all know that a pilot’s call sign is on the helmet. I have never seen an individual’s call sign on a flight suit.

94th ARCOM again, this time a June 1969 dated box and different maker.

Indeed. 99th AREFS callsign: "Ramrod". Of course, their black w/yellow-gold lettered rhomboid shaped patch looks nothing like your "Ramrod" patches. I looked around but couldn't find an image.

Thanks yokota57, so it could have been used by an entire squadron?

Working at Dillingham Shipyard in 1978, our ship in the civilian drydock on Sand Island as we were too small to tie up the drydock at the Naval Shipyard Pearl Harbor...   Dillingham Shipyard   A newly assigned seaman recruit came aboard just before we put into the drydock.  He was onery, mouthy and just a pain in the butt and I nick named him 'Shark Bait', telling him that's what he'll be the next time we put to sea.   I'm the Petty Officer of the Watch wearing dungarees, hardhat with goggles, bandana and a .45 gunbelt as the yardbirds are sandblasting all around us.   Some of the guys were going out bar hopping in Honolulu and 'Shark Bait' kept pestering them until they agreed to take him along.  I don't know exactly what happened on the beach and who messed him up, but around midnight during my watch 'Shark Bait' comes running up the stairs and the gangplank, sprints right past me and goes below to berthing.  When he jetted by us, he was bleeding heavily and had his lip busted wide open, blood all over himself.   The Officer of the Deck and I think W T F? and before we finish the thought, 'Shark Bait' runs right through us again and back down the gangplank brandishing a large bowie knife screaming "I'll kill those M*ther F*ckers!!"  This starts a chase all over the shipyard by myself, my messenger & the OOD.  We catch him and disarm him, but he obviously needs medical attention.  I'm also the duty driver, so the OOD tells me to get relieved, take the pick up truck and my messenger, and take him to nearby Tripler Army Hospital (now TAMC).     That's the setup, here's the stupid part...   We're driving down Nimitz Highway towards Tripler and the kid keeps trying to grab the steering wheel.  I'm telling my messenger to get a hold of him but he's slippery with blood and the messenger isn't too cool about that.  He sits in the middle and puts 'Shark Bait' on the passenger side rather than between us.  The next red light I hit on the highway, he bolts and now it's my turn to start cussing and thinking I'm going to kill this kid.   We chase him down the highway, uh, 'subdue' him and drag his rump back to the USN dodge pick up truck.  That's when the red lights went on, I look up, and there's the County Sheriff holding a shotgun on us.   Here's the picture.  Our truck is in the middle of the highway, doors open, bloody seat and door handles at 1am.  We're in dungarees and hardhats with clubs (a complete no-no off base at the time) dragging an unconscious bloody guy in civilian clothes down the road.  We laid him down, raised our hands, and started to tell our tale to the Deputy.  Eventually, he lowers the shotgun, looks at me and says, "you put him on the passenger side?"  He added a few more unpublishable remarks about how stupid I was, and tells us to get him to Tripler.  By this time I'm red faced and steaming, thinking about how I'll kill my messenger first, and then 'Shark Bait', but I get back behind the wheel and drive up to Tripler with the Sheriff following me.  Seeing that I'm actually going to the hospital, he turns away at the gate and we go up to the circle where the emergency room is.   This gets better...   By now it's about 2am and 'Shark Bait' has come around.  He's screaming, spitting blood on us and we're telling him to shut the F up.  We hit the swinging saloon type doors with a bang and storm into the brightly lit waiting room.  Time stops for me at this moment.  It's dead silent except for his yelling.   I look up, nice clean Army greens, white coats, shocked faces.  I look at the chairs and see recoiling pregnant army wives with their mothers, just what you expect on a quiet early weekend at Tripler, and think "Oh, F*ck", we're covered with blood, with clubs and definitely not Army.  The women's jaws are open and they're trying to crawl inside the chair cushions.   The Army nurse gets in my face screaming "You Animals, did you have to hit him so hard!  Monsters" and tells us to sit in the back away from everyone else.  She takes the 'poor little man' from us into an examining room, but I get up and tell her, you better keep an eye on him or let me in there with you.  But she's having none of that, and again orders me to sit back against the wall.      About 15 minutes go by and now it's quiet again, my messenger is trying to hit on the sisters and friends of the pregnant Army wives and I'm doing my best to breathe and meditate.  Then, my ears go up, hearing from inside the examining room, "hey, where'd that guy go".   I walked right up to the check in counter, took a piece of paper and started writing.  Satisfied with my note, I hand it to the Nurse and ask her to sign it as I'm now watching the MP's and medics running around the hallways following the blood trail.  She looks at the note which states that I've delivered my prisoner to the custody of the US Army.  She looks at me, signs it, and says "Get the Hell out of here", which I did.   'Shark Bait' never returned to the ship.