Nightingales

Back in 1974 Scott AFB in Illinois was (still is) primarily a "military airlift" base, and was home to a fleet of C-9A Nightingales (passenger jets modified for medevac use), hence the title of this post.

I arrived there at the beginning of February as part of a maintenance team sent from McClellan AFB (in Sacramento) to do some major repair work on their weather radar (WSR-57?) which had recently gone non-operational. For me and Airman Snyder, this was our first "real" job since graduating from tech school at Keesler AFB, and (not surprisingly) we were being used primarily as "gofers" for the rest of the team (all civil servants).

The team chief was a "WG-12" named Richard Balderson, and that first morning he let me tag along as he "made the rounds" - contacting the various parties we would be interacting with while on the base. Of course, me being me, I had lots of questions about what was going on and why, and Balderson (who wasn't much for explaining things) would look exasperated and say "Just pick your nose and look pretty"...

Aside: I can't count the number of times he said that to me during the years that followed... Balderson (who passed away in 2014) was a genuinely nice (but quirky) guy. As I recall, aviation was his life's passion - he was a licensed pilot and (at the time) was building a BD-5 in his garage. And shortly before I got out of the Air Force in 1979 he bought my '69 Road Runner (for his son). A few years later the car was hit broadside (the other driver's fault) and, luckily, nobody was injured. But I digress...

The team was split between two locations - the weather center (where the radar screen was) and the antenna, which was on top of a 110 ft tower. Snyder and I were split up between the locations and, luckily, I spent most of my time on the ground. However, I did have to go up the tower a few times (mostly to relay messages), which was a pain because there were no stairs - just a ladder straight up the side. (There was a circular metal cage around the ladder, but that just meant that if you lost your grip you would bounce between metal bars all the way to the ground instead of falling straight to your death. I'm not sure that's much of an improvement...)

Here's a picture I took early one morning from the platform level below the antenna... As I recall, it was bitterly cold, and the ladder rungs were icy... And those are a couple of the "Nightingales" in the middle of the picture:

At the very top of the tower was a pressurized inflatable radome (bubble) that protected the rotating antenna and related equipment. You entered it by climbing up a ladder through a trapdoor, and the only way to get tools and stuff up the tower was with a rope and pulley.

I only have one distinct memory of being in the radome:
There were 4 of us up there when a civilian named Gil let a really loud fart... We were all like "WTF?" and he said "Don't worry. My farts never stink". He was being totally serious, and he could not have been more wrong... We were stuck there, in an air tight bubble, with one of the worst smells that has ever assaulted my nostrils. The rest of us were gagging and choking - and Gil though we were kidding - I honestly don't think he could smell it... Even at lunch later that day he kept insisting that his farts were "odorless", and if they did smell he needed to go see a doctor because there was something seriously wrong with him. And we were like "Yes, please go see a doctor."

If there is a point here, it's that I was about to spend the next five years of my life working with one of the weirdest groups of people I have ever encountered. And (at the time) I didn't know the half of it.

The Trip Ends

Airman Snyder came by to pick me up at the Motel 6 near the St. Louis airport late the next morning, and if my math is correct, the date was Friday, February 1st, 1974. Our destination was Scott AFB - a mere 50 miles away - and since we had been "fudging" our itinerary we deliberately slept in to avoid showing up at the base before noon...

Aside: Nowadays it would be a lot harder to manipulate your itinerary while buying gas (2 or 3 times a day) with a government (GSA) credit card. That's because the billing info transmitted electronically, including the date and time. Back in the day the gas stations used a mechanical device to make a carbon imprint of the credit card numbers on a paper receipt and then they'd write in the amount and date by hand and send a copy to the government for reimbursement. Sometimes the date was either omitted or incorrect (plausible deniability) and the odds of anyone ever comparing the receipts against your itinerary was slim to none. (We weren't worried.) But I digress...

As we headed into downtown St. Louis I finally got to see the Gateway Arch. When I left St. Louis (as a child) in 1961 they had just broken ground on the project, and there was a huge amount of publicity. As a 3rd grader I had been totally captivated by it and had read everything article I could find - so it was really cool to see it completed.

Then we crossed the Mississippi and headed into East St. Louis - I was not prepared for that... I don't know if I had never seen it as a child, or if things had gone downhill that much between 1960 and the mid-70's - but it was the worst "urban blight" I had ever encountered. Most of the buildings were boarded up and/or falling down - there was garbage everywhere - the streets were deserted, except for a few people wandering around aimlessly - like hollow shells. Research indicates that it had (and still has) among the highest unemployment and violent crime rates in the U.S. (about twice that of Detroit). It was quite a shock.
Then we drove just a few miles and we were in Belleville Illinois - almost entirely white, and affluent. I'm not sure I've ever seen that stark of a contrast between two "small" towns (population roughly 40,000 at the time) that literally bordered each other. It was almost incomprehensible...

So - having driven 2,000 miles across the Rockies and through the Great Plains in the middle of winter (during the "gas crisis"), it was quite a relief to finally roll through the gates of Scott AFB with our truck (and our sanity) relatively intact. We checked into the transit barracks and phoned McClellan AFB to let them know we had arrived "safe and sound" and it was OK to send the rest of the radar overhaul team (all civilians).

Of course, it was Friday afternoon, and since "wage grade" civil servants don't travel on weekends we weren't going to start work until Monday afternoon, which meant we had some time to kill.
Snyder decided to go back to St. Louis to spend the weekend with his in-laws, and he wanted to take the truck. I remember being highly resistant to the idea: It's one thing to stop by a relative's house while passing through town, but taking a government vehicle over 100 miles for personal use is a whole different thing. (Especially when it's loaded with 10's of thousands of dollars worth of radar parts and test equipment.) But I wasn't in a position to stop him. (As I mentioned a few posts back, we were both the same rank and our NCOIC hadn't put either one of us in charge.)

I don't remember much else from that weekend, other than the truck (and Snyder) made it back in one piece - and there was a bit of snow on Sunday...

The Hockey Game

When I left off in my prior post, it was the end of January 1974 and I was sitting in a room at the Motel 6 by the St. Louis airport while Airman Snyder was visiting his in-laws. Then, just before dinner Snyder called and told me that they had gotten tickets to a college ice hockey game and I was invited along -  yeah - he didn't have to ask twice... But before I get to that topic there are a few other things to mention:

First - I had lived in St. Louis until I was 8 years old (left in December 1961), and I hadn't been back since. As a child I had spent a lot of time around the airport (my dad traveled on business), and my sister had gone to a private school a few miles from there, so the area we drove through on the way into town was vaguely familiar, but a lot had changed - I was really looking forward to seeing more of the city again.

Second - the situation with Snyder's in-law's was kind of "delicate". The father had recently (and unexpectedly) passed away (I don't recall the cause), leaving the mother to provide for a 16 year old daughter and a 10 year old son (the same ages as Snyder's siblings). The point is that the family was still kind of in shock.

Third - I had met Snyder's wife and she was a very pretty young lady, so it was no surprise that her younger sister was too. She had a classic "farm girl" physique: Not the least bit fat, but not skinny either. Solid, but not muscular. Shapely, but not "Rubenesque"... Plus, she had waist length blonde hair and was wearing a very short skirt. I have to admit I was mesmerized... Yes - I realize she was only 16, but she did look older. Plus, it's not like I wanted to "get with her" - I just found it hard not to stare... But the main thing I remember was how distant she seemed. I assumed it was because of the recent loss of her father, but I suppose it's possible she just didn't like me :-)

And back to the story:
They picked me up at the Motel 6 (in a station wagon) and we headed into town, driving right over where my aunt Aggie's house had been before it was bulldozed to make way for a freeway, and ending up at the St. Louis Arena (demolished in 1999). I had been there many times as a child (mostly at the Ice Capades) but the last time was before the 1959 tornado tore off a big chunk of the roof. So as soon as we entered the arena I looked up and could immediately tell where it had been repaired (the wood was a distinctly different color). Don't know why I remember that - but, there ya go...

I had never been to a hockey game before, and we were seated in the front row down in the corner - probably not the best overall view of the game, but a really interesting place to be... When we got there the teams were still warming up, and they were amusing themselves by bouncing slap shots off the glass in front of us. (Scares the crap out of you if you don't see it coming.)
And once the game got underway we were treated to a constant barrage of players slamming each other into the corner. Yeah - you have no idea how hard those guys hit until you experience it from a few feet away :-)

And as it turned out, I ended up seated next to Snyder's sister-in-law. (In case you're wondering, I honestly had nothing to do with that - I entered the row first)... So, you know how when you're trying not to notice something, it keeps getting harder and harder to ignore? ... Hair, legs, perfume - inches away - for an entire hockey game - darn near drove me crazy... (Probably why it's so firmly etched into my memory.)

Eventually the game ended (mercifully releasing me from OCD hell) and we headed back to the "burbs". And as we drove along there was another "Snyder" moment: His in-laws were deeply devout Catholics, and at some point the topic came up, triggering him to go on a rant about how they were stupid to believe in God, there was no heaven, and the father-in-law was dead and gone and they needed to get over it... It was a truly "cringe worthy" moment. The mother-in-law endured it in silence, but it really made me wonder how Snyder and his wife ended up together in the first place (I never asked).

Finally, they dropped me off at the motel, where I watched some TV and eventually feel asleep to the sound of planes taking of and landing at the nearby airport.

Snyder's Family

Airman Snyder and I had stopped for the night in Manhattan Kansas, which was only a couple of hours from his mom's house on the east side of Kansas City Missouri. The only part of the next day's drive I remember is passing through the downtown KC area on the freeway, which was particularly stressful. We were in a vastly under-powered flatbed government truck, traffic was surprisingly heavy, I never had no clue what lane I should be in, and (even with the side mirrors) there were a lot of blind spots. (This was in 1974 and I don't think the signs were particularly helpful). But we made it through town without incident and pulled up in front of Snyder's house around mid-morning.

As I recall, Snyder's mom lived alone with his 2 brothers - one about 16 years old and the other around 10. (I don't think there had been a father in the picture for a long time.) Shortly after we got there we ate lunch and the youngest brother didn't like whatever vegetable his mom had fixed, which resulted in Snyder giving him a big lecture about eating everything on your plate.
Unfortunately, I just couldn't hold my tongue: I had been to the chow hall with Snyder many times since arriving at McClellan and he was about the pickiest eater I'd ever seen. So I was like "Seriously? You never eat anything you don't like." and he was like "But that's crappy military food and this is good mom's food"... In retrospect, I really should have stayed out of it. At that point it hadn't yet dawned on me that Snyder had been the "father figure" in his little brother's life prior to joining the military - so yeah, my bad... (But still - hypocrisy?)

Aside: I have always been baffled by how my memory works... That lunch incident was totally inconsequential yet (after 42 years) I can recall what the table looked like, where everyone was sitting, what the window (and curtains) behind the table looked like, what was outside the window - and how mad Snyder got (he was a bit red in the face)... Yeah - it's hard to make sense of what my brain decides to retain.

The only other memory I have of that day is when Snyder and I tried to help his other brother fix a leaking radiator. We were making use of the big soldering iron we carried in our military tool box (the thing was over a foot long and was referred to as the "donkey dick") and we had it hanging down from an extension code draped over a rafter in the garage. Snyder's brother wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and grabbed the iron by the barrel (hot part) instead of the handle, which resulted in second degree burns over the palm of his hand. He was screaming in pain - Snyder was freaking out - and I made a mental note to be extremely careful if I ever had to use one of those again. (And the radiator didn't get fixed.)

We spent the night at Snyder's house (don't recall where I slept) and early the next afternoon we headed for St. Louis, where his in-laws lived. Since he wasn't in a position to invite me to stay with them he dropped me off at the Motel 6 by the airport (right off of I-70). As I recall, his in-laws lived in Florrisant (a nearby suburb).

BTW - they were named "Motel 6" because (at the time) they actually cost $6 a night (less than half of a typical Holiday Inn), but they charged extra for almost everything (except towels and bedding). There was even a coin slot on the television, and I was thrilled to discover that the one in my room was stuck in the "on" position, hence I had free TV. (It was black and white - but still - bonus!)

Coming up next - the hockey game.

Road Trip - part 5

The town of Laramie Wyoming is at an altitude of over 7000 ft, and on that late January day in 1974 Airman Snyder and I awoke before dawn to find clear skies - and bitter cold... As I mentioned in my prior post, our goal was to make it to Kansas City Missouri (where Snyder's mom lived) a day ahead of schedule so that he could spend some additional (unauthorized) time there. And since we would be heading downhill pretty much that entire day we expected to make it most of the way there. (And we did.)

A winter storm had recently moved through the area, and not far east of Laramie we hit a long stretch of I-80 that was completely covered in hard-packed snow. I was going about 60 MPH and (once again) Snyder started freaking out and yelling at me to slow down. I honestly don't know what his problem with snow and ice was, but I really didn't get it... I mean, we were on a totally flat and straight section of highway with visibility for miles. There were no crosswinds or other traffic (or anything else to hit anywhere nearby), and the government truck we were driving weighed around 12,000 lbs. (hence the tires were firmly "planted"). Granted, if I had to suddenly slam on the brakes or swerve that might have been bad, but we had unlimited visibility and I hadn't sensed any slippage at all (traction wise, dry packed snow is roughly midway between wet pavement and ice). Plus we had Newtonian physics on our side (object in motion...) - and we made it through without any issues at all.

Aside: That was the first time I had been through the high plains when they were covered in snow. In the early morning light the scenery was almost indescribably beautiful. (It's another one of those things that's indelibly etched in my memory.)

I don't remember too much about that day, but I do know that we turned south on I-25 at Cheyenne and back east on I-70 out of Denver. And by the time we were partway across Kansas I figured we really needed to call the squadron before quitting time and let them know we were still alive.

Now - it's probably hard for "modern" folks to imagine what a huge deal long distance phone calls were back in the early 1970s... Not only were there no cell phones, but Bell had a monopoly on long distance at the time, and a 5 minute call to Sacramento from a residential phone (on a weekday - adjusted for inflation to 2015) would have been about $20. And if you made the call from a payphone or a motel room it would have been substantially more than that. Luckily, the military had their own internal phone network (autovon), so all we had to do was find a base that would let us make a call - assuming the circuits weren't all busy (which they often were).

It was late afternoon when we pulled up to the gates of Fort Riley, Kansas, and after spending a long time at the gate while the MPs tried to figure out what the heck to do with us, we were finally directed to an admin building across the base... Of course, we were almost 400 miles further east than we were supposed to be at that point, so when I finally got a call through I told SSgt Puller we were at Buckley AFB (outside of Denver) and he had no way of knowing any different (no "caller id").

Since it was already getting dark by the time we got on the road again we decided to stop for the night in Manhattan Kansas (just east of Fort Riley). After spending all that time in the truck I decided to go "walkabout" and I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised... Manhattan was (is?) basically a little college town in the middle of nowhere, and it had a really cool "vibe" about it - I really liked it.

The other thing I remember (funny what sticks in your mind) was looking through some records in a store (KMart?) there and finding ZZ Top's First Album... Now - I had first encountered ZZ Top years earlier in Tyler Texas (where that album was recorded in 1971), and they were extremely popular in the region but I had no idea they were going nationwide. I was really excited about it because I hadn't heard any of their music since leaving Texas and I kind of missed it.

So, all in all, it was good day... No undue weirdness from Snyder - really nice weather - and we'd covered over 600 miles, which put us more than a day ahead of schedule - right where we wanted to be.

Road Trip - part 4

Early Monday morning, Airman Snyder and I filled the government truck with gas and headed east out of Salt Lake City on I-80. Since Snyder was from Kansas City (Missouri) and his in-laws lived in St. Louis, our plan was to get there a day before we were scheduled to, which meant we needed to start seriously "fudging" our itinerary (driving further than the allotted 300 miles per day). Unfortunately, we were heading up over the continental divide, which meant we would be spending a good part of that day in 3rd gear (climbing at 30 to 35 MPH) - hence we weren't going to get as far as we'd like.

The first thing I recall (not particularly relevant) was that I had bought some Port Salut cheese (one of my favorites) in Salt Lake City and Snyder refused to get into the truck with it... I honestly didn't think it smelled that bad, but I went ahead and stuck it in the bed of the truck with our tools and equipment anyway... Whatever...

Then, right in the middle of the steepest part of the climb, Snyder spotted a beer box beside the road and immediately started yelling at me to pull over so he could check it out... I explained to him that the box was almost certainly either empty or contained only empty bottles - furthermore, I doubted we could get the truck to accelerate past 2nd gear after stopping on a grade that steep, meaning we'd be stuck going 15 MPH for a long time... Snyder didn't care. He remained convinced that some underage motorist had seen a police car, panicked, stopped, and placed the beer beside the road (intending to come back for it later). Nothing I said could convince him otherwise, but I did not stop. It was miles before he quit begging me to turn around and go back. He finally relented, but he was still irritated about it for days afterward...

It was pretty late in the day when we stopped for the night in Laramie Wyoming. We'd only driven about 400 miles but, given how much time we'd spent in 3rd gear it had been a pretty long day. And after grabbing a motel room we headed for a nearby tavern to unwind a bit. (FYI: The drinking age in Wyoming was 18 back in 1974 - they didn't raise it to 21 until 1988.)

We actually had a pretty good time. We drank quite a few beers and played a number of highly "spirited" games of foosball - got plenty of stares from the locals - probably wondering who the heck we were. (It was kind of a hick town back in the day.)

Then Snyder asked me if I though the lovely young Native American woman at the end of the bar was a prostitute... First off - I couldn't understand why a recently married guy would even wonder about such a thing. Second - I had noticed her too and she hadn't talked to a single guy the whole time we were there. I was pretty sure that's not how the "prostitution" thing works. I explained this to Snyder (who apparently had OCD and not a lick of sense) but he just couldn't let go of it. For a while I was afraid he was going to ask her directly (never a good idea for a variety of reasons), but he had noticed that the bartender seemed to know her and would therefore probably be aware if she was a "woman of ill repute". So (against my advice) he decided to ask the guy (a big biker-looking dude) about it. The exchange went something like this:

Snyder: "So - do you know that woman down at the end of the bar?"
Bartender: "Yeah..."
Snyder: "Is she a prostitute?"
Bartender: "No.... She's my girlfriend..."

I have to admit that I did not see that one coming, and for a fleeting instant I thought we were probably going to die. But Snyder (for once) apologized profusely and the bartender was astonishingly good-natured about it. (I assume he was used to non-locals hitting on her.)

So, having escaped with our lives, we headed back to the motel for a good night's sleep before hitting the road again in the morning.

The Tabernacle

In late January of 1974 Airman Snyder and I were en-route from Sacramento to Belleville, Illinois in a government truck during the "gas crisis", and since (at thet time) almost all the gas stations were closed on Sundays we found ourselves spending the day in Salt Lake City... Now - I had always wanted to see the Mormon Tabernacle (mostly out of curiosity), and given that our motel was only 5 or 6 blocks from Temple Square, I talked Snyder into meandering over with me to check it out.

A bit of background: During all those years when my mom, sister and I were moving from place to place we encountered a good number of Mormon missionaries. We'd always had a really good time talking to them, and I'd read all their literature - including the book of Mormon - so I knew quite a bit about the religion. (Almost as much as I knew about Catholicism, Protestantism, Hinduism, Scientology, etc, etc - more on that later). Snyder, on the other hand, was completely clueless about all of it. (I was amazed at how someone could spend 20 years on this planet and know as little about as many things as Snyder did.)  Heck - he hadn't even heard of the Mormon Tabernacle choir...

As it turned out, we couldn't get into the Temple itself (not sure what was up with that), so we wandered about the grounds for a while and finally ended up at the North Visitor Center, which was actually kind of cool. There were two full floors of displays and they had interwoven the history of Mormonism with the migration west and the settling of Utah - lots of interesting historical stuff there... And in the middle of the visitor center was a dome, and under the dome there was a huge table with a diorama of the place in New York where Joseph Smith had founded the religion. It included the locations where the angel Moroni had appeared to him and where he had found the golden tablets with the Book of Mormon, etc. There were buttons along the side of the diorama and when you pushed them it would light up the locations where the corresponding events had occurred.

And that's when it happened... Snyder asked me "What's this all about?" so I explained about the angel and the golden tablets as he stared at me dumbfounded. When I finished, he shouted almost at the top of his lungs "You mean to tell me they believe that??!!!"

Now - let me recap the scene for you: It was 2PM on a Sunday and we were under the central dome at the visitor center in Temple Square. The dome was two stories high, surrounded by balconies, and the place was packed - there were literally hundreds of people within earshot - and every freaking one of them stopped and stared at us... I cannot recall a single time in my life when I wished I could disappear as much as I wanted to at that moment... Snyder was (as usual) totally oblivious. We didn't stay too much longer, but I could swear people were pointing at us and whispering the whole rest of the time we were there.

Yes - unbeknownst to me Snyder was not merely an atheist, he was a raging atheist. The mere mention of believing in God would set him off... I mean, I can understand someone being a non-believer, but to be that certain of it??? I agree that there is plenty of evidence that a "big bang" occurred, but did quadrillions of solar systems really decide to spring into existence without any underlying cause or order - just totally random? That's one heck of a leap of faith... Now - I'm not saying that there must be a God. I'm just saying that the simple fact that we exist is patently ludicrous, and whatever the reason, it is way beyond our comprehension. Hence it all comes down to faith and I try not to judge anyone's beliefs (as long as they don't involve hurting others)...

Whatever helps you to "enjoy the ride" is fine by me :-)

Road Trip - part 3

It was a Saturday morning in January of 1974 when Airman Snyder and I headed east out of Elko, Nevada in a government truck, bound (ultimately) for Scott AFB in Belleville, Illinois.

Now - when we departed McClellan AFB (in Sacramento) nobody had bothered to designate either one of us as being "in charge", and that was a bit of an issue because we were both the same rank (and age) and it wasn't really clear who should be calling the shots. I had insisted on driving in snowy and icy conditions because I'd spent over 400 hours behind the wheel of a similar vehicle in my prior civilian life, and Snyder didn't argue because (despite being from the midwest) he really wasn't comfortable driving in those conditions. But he had passed the Air Force qualification tests for the truck, so once the roads cleared he started incessantly pestering me to let him drive. And since we were on the interstate in the middle of nowhere I couldn't really think of any reason to say no.

That's when I (unknowingly) made a serious mistake: The truck was so grossly under-powered it wouldn't even reach freeway speed on level pavement, so I told Snyder to basically just keep it floored all the time... Everything was fine until we started down a long hill and I realized he was over-revving the engine (it was making a clattering noise, probably caused by valve float). I told Snyder to back off the throttle and he was like "You told me to keep it floored." and I responded that I did not mean downhill and I was now revising my instructions to not floor it down steep grades, but like a petulant 5-year old he responded "No! You said to keep it floored and that's what I'm going to do!" And he did - for the whole rest of the trip... I did my best to ensure that I would be the one driving through the hilly areas, but there were still times when I had to grit my teeth and pray that the engine didn't grenade... I guess I should have been more specific with my instructions, but it hadn't yet dawned on me that I was dealing with an emotionally stunted individual who seemed to take delight in being an idiot. (Much more on that later.)

Luckily, we soon reached the salt flats (so there were no more "down hill" issues that day). Neither Snyder or I had ever been there before, and I have to admit that it was one of the most impressive things I'd ever seen... I was also amazed at how many people had apparently been tempted to try driving on the salt. That was a bad idea - the salt layer next to the highway was extremely thin with deep muck underneath, and every few miles there were tire tracks indicating that a car had ventured off the interstate and immediately sunk to the axles. Given how far it was to the nearest phone (and how much a tow truck cost) that would have definitely ruined your whole day - you'd think people would have noticed all the other tracks, but nooo...

The other thing I remember from that day is that there was only one gas station between the Nevada border and Salt Lake City (Bonneville exit?), and they would only let us get 10 gallons. (This was during the gas crisis.) That wasn't enough to fill the truck, so by the time we got to Salt Lake City we were on fumes. (Barely got there.)

At some point we got off of I-80 onto N Temple (old US-40) and ended up pulling into "Scotty's Motor Lodge" (the All Star Motel as of this writing - 754 N Temple - just west of I-15). The sign out front said "$5 per night - 1 to 6 people" and there was plenty of room to park the truck, so it worked out great... Yeah - it was a real "flea bag" - the rooms had cots instead of beds, and it seemed to be a "party spot" for local teenagers on a Saturday night (pretty noisy) - but it suited our purposes...

Now - early during the gas crisis President Nixon had asked gas stations to close on Sundays, and almost all of them had complied. Furthermore, we had already experienced gas availability issues and we were about to head east over the continental divide with no major towns for more than 400 miles. The thought of running out of gas in the Rockies during the middle of winter was not particularly appealing to either one of us, so we decided it would be in our best interests to just stay put until Monday. That way we could enjoy a leisurely Sunday in Salt Lake City... What could be better?

Road Trip - part 2

In January of 1974 (as Airman Snyder and I were about to embark on a cross-country trip in a government truck), travel by military vehicle was limited to 300 miles per day, and (unlike our civilian counterparts who traveled on "expense account") GIs on TDY (temporary duty away from their base) received a flat $25 per diem (about $120 in 2015 dollars) to cover food and lodging. That meant that Snyder (who was married) and I could share a cheap motel room and make our own sandwiches and actually make a few bucks out of it. (When you are a 2-stripe GI living at the poverty level that's a bonus.)
Another "interesting" thing about the trip was that the squadron motor pool didn't trust us with one of the International 1600 Loadstars and instead stuck us with a C40 Chevy flatbed (very similar to the Dodge delivery truck I had driven as a civilian) that was clearly intended for nothing more than puttering around on base... It was grossly under-powered (had a small 6-cylinder engine) and with the 3000 lb load we were carrying it could barely reach freeway speeds. Even worse was the fact that it would barely go 120 miles between fill-ups. Since this was during the "gas crisis" that meant we had to top it off pretty much wherever we could find fuel. (As I recall, we had been given a GSA credit card to cover the fuel - much to my surprise pretty much everyone accepted it.) Here's a picture of the truck. (Taken at Scott AFB, and yes, it was snowing):

We finished loading up on a Thursday afternoon and were planning on heading out in the morning but then the motor pool sergeant mentioned that if we left right away we'd get per diem for that day. That sounded good to us so we grabbed our stuff, headed east on I-80 (crawling up the Sierras at 30 MPH) and stopped for the night at Truckee. (Yes - that's a real place.)

The main thing I remember about the next morning was the cold. Truckee is at an altitude of almost 6000 feet and it was way below freezing. A winter storm had recently moved through and there was a lot of ice on the interstate heading down to Reno. I was maintaining a speed of about 40 MPH and Snyder was freaking out. I had chosen that speed because all the turns were banked and that was where the gravitational vs centrifugal forces seemed to be in balance (simple Newtonian physics). I tried explaining that it was just as dangerous to take a banked turn too slow as it was too fast, but Snyder just kept screaming at me to hit the brakes going into the turns - that would have been disastrous.

The next thing I remember was stopping to fill up at a truck stop outside of Reno. We went inside to grab a quick bite at the snack bar and spotted some slot machines in the corner... Now, neither Snyder or I had ever seen a slot machine before so we went over and started plugging nickels into a couple of them while giggling like 12 year-olds. That drew the attention of the manager who asked us how old we were. We confessed that we were only 20 (the gambling age is 21) and we were asked to leave the area... I remember us bemoaning the fact that if we hadn't been acting like morons we wouldn't have been noticed. Yeah - lesson learned - but I did come out a couple of bucks ahead :-)

 I don't remember anything from the rest of that day so it must've been uneventful, but I'm pretty sure we stopped for the night in Elko, Nevada... Next post - on to Salt Lake City.

Road Trip - Part1

Before I start in on the topic at hand I want to tell a story I forgot about until recently. I call it "The Tragedy of the Candy Machine":

When I was in tech school at Keesler AFB (1973)  there was a candy machine on each floor of the dorm, and one day I discovered that the machine on our floor was mis-adjusted so that if you gave the (mechanical) handle a sharp tug it would drop the candy without inserting any money...  I told a few of the guys (the ones I considered trustworthy) and we rarely took advantage of it (only on late night occasions when we couldn't find any change and were "jonesing" for chocolate)... Yes, we knew it was technically theft, but (arguably) so were the prices the machine charged for the candy, and our "pilferage" rate was so slight that over the period of a months nobody ever noticed the shortage.
Then one day some bozo discovered the malfunction and proceeded to run down the hall yelling about free candy, which resulted in a bunch of guys descending on the machine like locusts and completely cleaning it out. And (no surprise) it was fixed the next day.

It wasn't until years later that I read "The Tragedy of the Commons" which deals with what happens when everyone tries to maximize their own use of a shared resource... Sigh... The stupidity of man... But I seriously digress. Back to the topic at hand:

When I left off in my prior posts I had just reported to the 1833rd EIS at McClellan AFB (in Sacramento) as an entry-level ATC (Air Traffic Control) radar repairman. As I mentioned before, the 1833rd was comprised of both civilian and military personnel, but the ATC radar work center had recently experienced significant military attrition to the point where there were 3 military (including myself) vs roughly 25 civil servants. (I assume that's why I got diverted from my initial assignment of Nellis AFB). The other two G.I.s in the work center were SSgt Puller (who had picked me up at the bus depot) and Airman Snyder (also a recent tech school grad).
In mid-January 1974 and our work center was tasked with sending a team to Scott AFB in Illinois to do some major repairs on the weather radar there. The problem was that somebody needed to drive a military truck carrying 3000 lbs of parts and equipment from Sacramento to Belleville, Illinois and all of the civilians had refused to do it. Since SSgt Puller was the one who did all the admin paperwork for the work center he couldn't go, which left me and Snyder... Needless to say, the squadron brass were not thrilled with the idea of sending a couple of 20 year old GIs driving across country in the middle of winter, but I emphasized that I had been a delivery truck driver before I enlisted, and when it came right down to it they really didn't have a whole lot of choice - so they finally relented.

Yeah - I had no idea what I was getting into... Up to that point I hadn't spent enough time with Synder to realize what a "special" kind of stupid he was... I was about to find out.

The 1833rd

When I arrived at McClellan AFB in Sacramento in January of 1974 I had no idea that I would be spending the next 5 years there (and would get married - and have a son)... But I'm getting ahead of myself. Here's bit more background:

In the 1970's, McClellan was a "logistics" base - the depot for maintenance and overhaul of a wide variety of aircraft and electronics systems (including Air Traffic Control equipment). At the time, there were over 12,000 people working on the base, the vast majority of whom were "wage grade" civil servants (almost entirely ex-military).

I was assigned to the 1833rd EIS (Electronic Installations Squadron), which was part of the Air Force Communications Service (AFCS - "Providing the reins of command"). Our squadron reported into AFCS Northcom headquarters at Griffiss AFB in Rome, New York, which means that by the time we got to work in the morning the folks back east had spent 3 hours compiling lists of issues for us to deal with immediately. (But that's a topic for later...)
The 1833rd was responsible for installing and performing mobile depot maintenance (overhauls) on a variety of electronics equipment throughout the northwest U.S. (including Alaska). And, although it was a military unit, most of the squadron's personnel were civil servants.

Aside: When I found out I was being assigned to an EIS I did some research and found a paragraph in the regs indicating that EI technicians were superior to the "average" Air Force technician. So, when I arrived at McClellan I asked Staff Sergeant Puller (my trainer) exactly what made us better (I thought maybe there was advanced training or something). He reached over to his bookshelf, pulled out the regs and read me that paragraph stating that EI technicians had superior skills... Yup - that was all there was to it :-)

So, during the first couple of weeks I got set up in the barracks (don't recall when I first met my roomie - he was almost never there), took some vehicle operation classes (forklifts, military trucks, etc), was issued cold weather gear (we were subject to short-notice deployment to the arctic) and got ready for my first assignment, which turned out to be a weather radar overhaul at Scott AFB in Belleville Illinois.

On to McClellan

By the end of December 1973 I had flown back to Eugene Oregon (from visiting my father in Milwaukee) and immediately began getting ready to travel to McClellan AFB in Sacramento for my first assignment after tech school.

I would have liked to take my '68 Barracuda convertible rather than leaving it at my mom's, but the drive down would have required two full tanks of gas, and since the "Arab oil embargo" was in full swing there was a significant chance I'd get stranded part way there. Then I noticed a coolant puddle under the front of car. Yes - the water pump I had replaced in Biloxi a few months earlier had already failed and I didn't have time to fix it... So it came to pass that in the evening of January 2nd, 1974 a friend of my mom's dropped me off at the Greyhound bus depot in Eugene.

I don't remember much about the trip (I slept most of the way), but I do recall waking up in Klamath Falls. I considered getting out to stretch my legs, but it was dark, cold and snowy so I decided to just stay on the bus huddled up under my coat. (If there was a heater it wasn't working very well.)

Now - up to that point the seat next to me had been unoccupied (that's why I sat toward the back) but when I saw the old man in dirty clothes stagger onto the bus I somehow knew he was going to go right past all the other vacant seats and sit next to me - and I was right. He reeked of booze and tobacco smoke, and as soon as he got settled in he pulled out a cigarette and asked me if I had a match.

Aside: It's hard to imagine these days, but once upon a time people routinely smoked on planes and buses and in restaurants and offices - even hospitals. You were constantly surrounded by smokers - it was unavoidable... Subsequently, free matchbooks were also ubiquitous. Almost every business kept a bowl of them next to their register. Strange that I never noticed when they started disappearing but you just don't see them anymore...

I was about to tell the old guy I didn't have a match but then I remembered I'd grabbed a book at a restaurant in Milwaukee and stuck it in my coat pocket. I suppose I could have lied, but I went ahead and handed them to him anyway (despite my concern that his breath might catch fire) ... For the life of me I have no idea why this stuck in my mind, but after he lit his cigarette he stared at the restaurant's name and logo on the matchbook cover for a number of minutes before handing it back to me. I couldn't understand what he found so interesting about it. (Maybe it just took that long for his eyes to focus)... At any rate, the old guy finished his cigarette and fell right asleep - with his head on my shoulder. (Argh!) ... I think he got off in Redding, because I don't recall him being there when we arrived in Sacramento.

Now - the prior afternoon (when I decided to take the bus) I had called my unit at McClellan and asked if it would be possible for someone to pick me at the depot and was told "No problem". So when I got off the bus (January 3rd, 1974 - mid-morning) I called again and got the "Oh - you need a ride? It'll be a while" routine. (Seriously??)

Back then the Greyhound depot in Sacramento was at the corner of L Street and 7th, just across from a brand new plaza (being demolished as of this writing). So I plopped down on a concrete bench with my duffel bag, guitar and a suitcase. I thought about doing a bit of exploring (I was only 4 blocks from the Capitol Mall) but that wasn't really practical with all my gear, so I just sat there and waited, and waited and waited...
I remember that the plaza was deserted (except for a few winos) - seemed like everyone deliberately avoided that part of town - never did figure out why... Long story short - after a couple of hours SSgt Puller finally showed up and we headed up to McClellan AFB - first stopping by the squadron offices and then the barracks (where I spent the next 13 months)...

I remember how apprehensive I was - wondering how much the "real" Air Force was going to be like tech training... Turns out not much at all.

Christmas in Milwaukee

It's been a LONG time since my last post... Wow... Time flies! As of this writing I have recently "retired" after 33 years of developing software for a living. It'll be interesting to see where life takes me from here... And back to the Christmas of 1973:

When Karina and I arrived in Milwaukee it was to be our first "joint visit" with dad since that disastrous occurrence in New York (in 1971) when everyone (but me) ended up screaming at each other and my dad hit me when I tried to defuse the situation. Then a few days later he told me to go back to Texas and drive my "shitty Ford", which was just fine by me :-)

I'm not sure why, but this visit was completely different... It might be because I was now an A1C in the Air Force (instead of a shiftless hippie) and Karina had just enlisted in the Army - or maybe dad (who had just started working for Allis Chalmers) was less stressed... Regardless, we had a really nice time.

And while I'm on the "Army" topic:
Enlisting in the military was a really bizarre thing for Karina to do. (Why on earth the Army???) She was equal parts "free spirit" and "loose cannon" and (up until that point in her life) had never shown any signs of exercising the slightest bit of self discipline or self control... Furthermore, she was my "big sister" and had always been the "trailblazer" while I (very cautiously) followed in her footsteps - and now she was suddenly taking cues from me... It was beyond weird...

And a bit more on that topic:
Karina was scheduled to start basic training at Fort Jackson (South Carolina) in early January (1974). Up to that point WACs had been trained separately at Fort McClellan (Alabama), but as part of the Army's effort to expand the careers available to women they had just formed a WAC training Battalion at Fort Jackson (where the male recruits were trained). And (unfortunately) Karina had the misfortune of being assigned to one of the very first classes there. (Apparently the training was much more physically demanding than at Fort McClellan)... But more on that at a later date.

And back to Christmas:
As I mentioned in an earlier post, dad was renting a condo at the corner of E Kane Place and N Summit overlooking Lake Michigan. (Kareem Abdul Jabbar also lived in that building.)
I don't remember a whole lot about the week I stayed there other than the food was excellent and Karina gave me a stuffed gorilla (named George) for Christmas... BTW: George remained with me for the next 20 years or so until he starting losing all his stuffing from being played with too much, but I'm getting ahead of myself :-)

I can't recall exactly when I flew back to Eugene, but it was probably before New Year's Eve because I had to report to my first "real" assignment (McClellan AFB in Sacramento) on the morning of January 3rd. Karina, on the other hand, stayed at dad's until it was time to leave for basic...

And in the interest of finally moving forward with my blog I'm going to go ahead and hit "publish" on this post - right now :-)