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stevetuba.co.uk
Stories II
and How I became a legend in my own mind. A work in progress.
As I think about it now...there should have been equipment available to trace the source of the interference. Knowing what I now know, there were complete sets of survey gear...with antennas etc that should have done the job. Why no one thought of it I don't know. Come to think about it...the building closest to me was the test equipment repair/cal lab...*(PME?). I'd gone there a number of times to "borrow" tubes. They always gave me what I needed...no questions asked...AND no paperwork...Thanks guys! Gathering parts...the boom would be length of 2x2 wood...a stake by any other name. The elements were of aluminum rod I'd found god knows where. Anyway...I soon had a VHF multi-element beam antenna. Two of my radios were (GRC-27/R-278) multi channel, so I pulled one out of the rack and set it up outside the building. After setting the frequency and hooking up a length of coax between the radio and antenna, I swung the antenna around the horizon, testing its effectiveness. It worked well...AND Bingo! Good news, bad news. The good news was that the antenna worked very well. The bad news was that it pointed right at "transmitters"! Our own. The problem was that our own transmitters were in line with Base Ops...then the flightline...then SAC, all in a line! There was nothing for it...I'd have to move the receiver to the other side of our transmitter antennas and scan again. Into our truck went the Collins multi channel receiver...down to the front of the Flight Facilities building putting our transmitter antennas behind me.
Once there, I pointed the beam at the towering array of antennas...NOTHING! Great. It was not our transmitters. A quick scan pointed to Base Ops! There were a number of datalink parabolic dishes on top along with other gear. DONE DEAL. The lieutenant took over from there. The problem disappeared the next day. As far as I know...my beam (AN/ZAP) antenna is still hanging where I left it, just above the grounding rod!
*PME...Precision Measurement Equipment (Lab)
I got the call to accompany my CO, Colonel Miller, to a Commanders Call...for the Commanders! This would mean that there would be a whole bunch of Colonels listening to the General chewing them out! It was interesting. At one point the General was getting set to present some award...to be photographed by the "base photo" photographer. The General is ready. The recipient is ready. The photog is ready. Cheese! Click. No flash. Start again. Everyone is ready. Cheese! Click. No flash. The General is getting pissed. One more time....same result. My CO, Colonel Miller...says..."Tuba!...get up there...Tuba get up there". I do...The General asks me if it...the flash, WILL work. I say "yes General", and dry fire the strobe to prove it. It works. Everyone ready. Cheese. Click. Pop! Done deal. It's all about points...no? The gaining and loosing thereof.
Years later this would happen to me...no flash. I was shooting a lounge act. As luck would have it, in the audience was a photographer that recognized me. He was from an outfit that I'd done some work for and I guess he saw the problem...thinking...mmm...there should have been a flash then...and then. Anyway...while back at my table, with my girlfriend (Toni) looking on(!), I try to figure out the problem. This guy shows up and offers me his strobe which he always has in his car along with the rest of his gear. Just goes to show....sometimes we're on the other end of the stick.
B-52s would take off from Kadena, fly to Nam...drop their bombs...and fly back. Back...that was the big deal for the SAC (Strategic Air Command) commanders. They wanted to know as soon as possible the success of the mission and the condition of the returning bombers and crews etc. Well...one day I get sent over to SAC located on the other side of the flight line from us at Flight Facilities. I was to checkout their radio gear. Though my ID tag was punched for SAC...I never knew why. I think it may have been for no other reason than that we...F/F...were just backup. Their own guys were sharp...so why? True...they only had a pair of receiver/transmitters...as opposed to our 26...but that should have made no difference in my mind. Anyway...we drive around the western end of the runway and onto the flightline and almost get run over by a 52! No kidding! Coming right at us was a B-52. We kept going...it kept coming as we tried to beat it to an exit. It WAS a close call! We found our way to the SAC command center...through the security check points etc. The Colonel tells me the problem. I do a check of the transmitter power output and SWR (Standing Wave Ratio) as indicated on the antenna coupler. Checks ok. I must have brought a signal generator along to check the receiver sensitivity. Checks out nominal. They were able to contact the planes...so the antenna was radiating...and with low SWR. The antenna was a discone. It was designed to radiate 360 degrees around the horizon. This makes sense since the planes could be anywhere in the sky. But...What the Colonel wanted was to make contact at the greatest range possible. I knew of formulas that related the maximum distance that two radios could make contact. This formula was in some manual back at F/F. I told the Colonel..."I'll be back"...not realizing it at the time that someone else would make that line famous...as opposed to saying..."I shall return"...which I knew had already been taken...though I guess I could have said..."I shall be back". Back at F/F I ran the numbers given the height above sea level of the antenna and the altitude of the returning flights. This would work out to a range of 270 miles. I went back and explained this to Colonel. I then asked if he could contact the planes and get a DME reading. He did so, on the spot...they were over 300 miles! It just went to show that "if you can see em...you can work em". Which was the case...the plane was just over the horizon. There was nothing wrong with his radios. For some time I dreamed about being allowed to "build" a beam for the SAC Colonel which would have provided a stronger signal but would not have changed the fact that the plane had to be in line of sight with the ground antenna. As a result, I was promoted to Major...With a DFC thrown in. Dreams are like that!
That reminds me of the time I was sent to a Fighter Sq HQ... I don't remember the squadron...in fact I don't remember why we were there in the first place. But...at one point we're standing around talking to the Colonel, wrapping things up...when I spot this officer over the Colonel's left shoulder. I knew he was an officer because he had gold bars on his shoulders. But...as I checked out the rest of his uniform...as one would in a blink of an eye...I notice that he's "missing" the gold bar on his flight cap. Fascinated...I continued to glance at him now and then...and thought that maybe I should tell him. There was something wrong. Then it clicked. Just then the officer turns around. Jeez! He's got the cap on backwards...There was the gold bar alright, but...at the back of the cap. Well...it took another minute or so until someone else noticed...and pointed it out to...the Colonel! I can still see the scene. In a low voice the 2nd Lt. was told to remove the flight cap. His hand went up very slowly...etc. This was were the phrase "bad hat day" came from...I'm sure.
I call it the Dose House though I don't think anyone else does. But it sounds better than the "32nd Avenue South House". As kids we'd pronounced Dose as "Docey" with the "o" and "e" long. It is located one house north of the corner of DOSE and 32ND Ave. So. At 31st Ave So. and Dose there are two, ten foot tall, brick pillars one on each side of the street. At the other end of Dose, three and half blocks east, there are a flight of stairs leading down to the shore of Lake Washington. At the top of these stairs, there are the words "DOSE TERRACE" in brass inlay.
The three and half blocks constitute the entirety of DOSE. The oldest street signs used to read "Dose Terrace" as I recall. From the pillars west...the street is named "Walker". Interestingly, on some current maps, Dose is mislabeled as Walker! Charles Dose was a realty developer. As I understand it, he had built the houses on Dose street....plus one house. In 1911, that one house was built for his wife, and it was to become "our" house in the summer of 1953. We bought the house from a large family...the Taylor's as I recall. They in turn...as the story goes...had bought it from a Bishop. The Bishop had bought it from Mrs. Dose. So...sometime in the late 50's, I forget exactly, it was decided to upgrade the upstairs bathroom. The first change would be to replace the "medicine cabinet" with a "modern" one. You know the ones with the sliding mirrors...two of then? After exposing the cabinet...there came the moment of its removal. My brother and I grabbed a hold, and pulled it free. There had been a slot for the disposal of razor blades in the cabinet and hence blades showered the floor as we took the cabinet down the stairs and out onto the front porch. Taking our first look at the back...there with the dust and spider webs...were...photographs. Five of them. They were of naked women. Cool! They were "French post cards", though more art than what might first come to mind.
As to the other mystery...I don't know. The only ones I don't suspect as being the source of the cards were the family before us...but! I mean Mrs. Dose seems unlikely, but what about the Bishop? There you have it! PS. It would be interesting to find more information regarding the history, dates of origin etc. for "PC 1755 Paris" and the rest. Answering the question of who she was would make for a great story...no?
681st Radar Squadron...Cut Bank, Montana. Fire in the night... It was winter...when I arrived at Cut Bank, Montana. Patches of show covered most of the ground I could see from the window of the DC-3 as we came in for a landing. Montana is known as "Big Sky Country"...but I can assure you that there was a lot of land there too...as far as the eye could see...in fact. A bus picked me up at the airport and we drove the 42 some odd miles northwest to Cut Bank Air Force Station..."Home of the...681st Radar Squadron". The sign at the gate went on to declare that the 681st was "The Pride of the 29th"..."Envy of all others."...Boy!...Was I glad to hear that! It didn't take long to get squared away. I was taken to barracks number 2, first room at the top of the stairs. For the time being, I was the only occupant. This was good. I took care of as much as was possible that first day...and then crashed. It had been a long day. Then, in the middle of the night, I woke up to the sound of sirens...bells...shouting...boots running down the hall and stairs. I had not been assigned to a duty station...so the best I could do was to stay put and keep out of the way of what ever was taking place. Alerts were a common thing those days. That morning I get called to the orderly room, the "First Shirt" wants to talk to me. It turns out that my security clearance had not caught up with me...hence I could not be assigned to my ultimate duty station (GAT/R) which required a SECRET clearance. Things would just have to wait. (Just had a flash! When my clearance did show up...everyone was really surprised at how fast it had gone through. I remember SSgt. Schippers asking "Who is your father?" meaning how was I connected? I wasn't, but I was a naturalized citizen and I'm guessing that that may have helped things along.) So...the First Shirt tells me that I'm to return later...1800hrs...ish...I'm guessing...to the Orderly Room whence I would be issued a weapon...(a .38 revolver) with ammo. I was to take up guard duty at the site of the previous nights fire! AH! I began to worry at that point. My first...and only thought was that of simply freezing...to death. Guard duty was something that was covered at basic training...but this was...different. Well...it was no big deal...I was taken up the street past the last barrack...#3...to the trailer park. There was a duce and half...with the engine running and the guy inside got out...and I got in. The last instructions I received were to shoot anyone that got too close...AND...most importantly TO NOT SHUT OFF THE ENGINE!. I'm alone. Time to check things out. Ok fine...roll window down a bit...roll window back up...but not as far as it was. Let's just see how the heater controls work. Works ok! I wonder how much gas there is...and will there be enough to get me through the night? Look around for any intruders...none. Adjust the rear view mirror for best angle for possible intruder. Gads...I'm going to have to stay awake the WHOLE night. This was going to be a twelve hour shift. Sometime after midnight...wait for it...I hear footsteps in the dry snow. If anybody thought that they could/would catch this guy asleep at the wheel..."they had another think coming"...as it were. Well...it was in fact an A1C AP (Air Police)...just checking up to see how I was doing...YEAH SURE! (This same AP will play a leading role in another drama (read...shooting) later in the Cut Bank Chronicles). We chat a bit...and before departing...tells me again...not to shut off the engine...and shoot to kill. By 0300hrs I'm fairly conversant with the operation of the windows. I was able to accurately determine the ratio of window travel to the turns of the handle...this may come in real handy...someday. I begin to think that maybe I was getting drowsy from carbon monoxide...like it's killing me...right? Debate. Nothing for it. I'll take care of this little problem...and I killed the engine! There...done deal. By 0400hrs...it's getting a bit chilly! By 0430hrs...I'm starting to freeze. OK fine...I'll just start the engine...and soon I'll be nice and warm again. You can guess the rest...The only thing I killed that night was the engine and the very thing I worried about most...happened...by my own hand. EPILOG: Admiral Nelson of the Seaview... You must take into account the fact that Cut Bank AFS was an isolated tour. Things that anyplace else would not be very funny, were absolutely hilarious. Playing tricks was on the list. In fact, the same trick played over and over was always good for a laugh, everybody "got" it. It's as though the perpetrators liked being on the same page. So...I'm at the site (GAT/R) when I'm told to answer the phone (they were all in on it). It's Berman, the base telephone operator. He says that he's performing a "comm check of the telephone lines" and needs me to help him. I'm to take the handset, put it in a brown paper bag and then put the bagged handset into the desk drawer, close it, and then count up to ten and back in clear loud voice. Yeah...right!...Not a chance! Well...it didn't work any better than when I was asked by TSgt. Grover the NCOIC of GAT/R, in the presence of others...to go and find a "fallopian tube". For my British readers a "tube" is what you call a radio "valve". Anyway I tell sarge that I don't think I'm going to find one of those. Ha Ha. Fallopian valve doesn't work....does it?
Note added 20 November 2006: The "joke" didn't work because I knew what a fallopian tube was. On an other day...I was asked to go and fined a piece of test equipment. I thought for a moment...and then went out to look for it! This was something that could have existed...I knew! I didn't find one... So...who was the joke on...me or Sarge? Techno jokes like these are a way of determining in a funny and or humiliating way...who knows what...fine. But to this day...does Sarge still think that the joke was on me? The piece of test equipment I was to find was a "Frequency Multiplier". Over the years...I've made the observation that it's possible to "know" more than your interrigators...who are totally oblivious as to their own lack of knowledge.
There was an entire game book of tricks and pranks. Heaven help you if you ever fell for one...as had A2C Towers. Given enough time, everybody was in on it. Depending on who was where, you might at any time be asked to play a part in the joke. At one time you might be the one that passed the phone to A2C Towers, while at another time you'd be the voice on the other end of the line...impersonating...wait for it...Admiral Nelson of the Seaview! For those not familiar with American TV in the mid 1960's, 'Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea' was the latest sci-fi underwater adventure series. The SSRN Seaview was the name of the futuristic submarine. The main character was a one...Admiral Nelson. "Admiral" was not his first name as you'd first think...it's his naval rank. God...I'm funny! So now...you have to put all the pieces together. Here we were on isolated tour. Not a whole hellava lot to do. It's cold...it's dark. So hey...let's get a hold of Towers...Towers was not the ripest fruit in the bowl. And it really was funny to think that an Admiral...an Admiral(!)...would be calling "you" (A2C Towers) in the middle of the continent at an isolated radar site, needing "your" help. Hell...he (the Admiral) knew where "you" were...even! It was always the same. Try to convince Towers that he was in fact talking to the Admiral. Keep it going as long as possible. Give Towers orders while swearing him to secrecy. Let him in on super secret mission details...etc. If he showed signs of disbelief, dress him down immediately and with great severity. Tell him that you have to get off the phone to take care of some submarine matter and that you'll call right back and hence not leave the area. It was funny... Well now... Remember the story about my first night on base and the fire at the trailer park? Well...Everyone went to the fire but me...as I said. Some went straight to it looking to rescue people, other pulled hoses, manned buckets, hooked hoses to hydrants, manned the nozzle...etc. The distance between fire and hydrant was well over one hundred yards. Months passed when at a Commanders Call an award was presented. It was presented to an individual that did not go to the fire like everyone else. This person stayed well back, missing out in all the potentially heroic action. Without this person's selflessness the effects of the fire would have been much worse. You see...when it came time to open the valve to the hydrant, there was only one person standing by to do that...wait for it...A2C...Towers! I don't remember if the Admiral called to acknowledge the award...so I'll do it for him...now. "Towers?" "....yes..." "This is Admiral Nelson of the Seaview!" "...OH!..Yes Admiral..." "Well done...Airman Towers!" "...Gee...thanks Admiral..." "Now Towers! Are you ready for new orders................................?" Seriously...This is Admiral Nelson of HMS Victory..."Jolly good show..." No really...Good job Towers...!
As I recall I did the guard thing for another night. I was supposedly still waiting for my security clearance to catch up...so I was put to work doing odd jobs. I remember that the weather had improved...it was a sunny day and I was asked if I could do woodwork. Yes? Ok then, build us some stools. Well...I wanted to see what level of quality we were talking about...and was sent to this building that had some. Just then the sirens went off. It's an alert! The base goes secure...etc. With no place to go for the alert, I head on up to the building where I'd find a stool to copy. The building was quite close to HQ...so I'm there just a minute or two after the alert had started. The door is locked of course...as it was under normal circumstances as I would later find out. I ring for entry...the door opens. The first thing I see is the muzzle of an M1 carbine. On the other end is a A2C. NOW...you've got to picture this. (1) I'm new to the base...like two days...and 99.9% of the personnel have never seen me. (2) It was not uncommon for the Air Force to plant an intruder, just to test security. (3) And...Wait for it...I don't have a pass...since I don't have my security clearance documents...yet! THEN he asks me what I wanted...the sly thinking dude that he was...I answer back that I want to see a stool...and his face went into the "YEAH SURE...do I look stupid?...Like I'd fall for the old 'he wants to see a stool' trick...look." This really set the poor guy off...all the time the muzzle kept getting closer and closer to my belly. OH...The M1 was loaded. He's having none of this "stool" stuff. It doesn't do much good...but I keep saying things like..."it's true...all I want is to see a stool you have inside" and "yeah, I just arrived the other day". His finger was getting real itchy and tells me to back up against the wall. About then...a Major appears from inside. I go through the whole routine again. OK...fine...have someone bring out a stool...he orders! The stool is handed out and I took it with me. The all clear sounded sometime later. This building...was home for the "scope dopes" and CRYPTO!
One of the first things they teach you in the military is to not believe nor transmit rumors. At first glance this sounds like it makes sense. But a rumor by any other name is...news...no? So it was, that the first "news" I heard was that the 681st Radron was being closed down! WOW. On the scale of things, "being closed" would normally mean something on the order of...what...a month or two...right? I mean what's the purpose of "news" that was so far out there in time that your tour would end first...right? It's like hearing that "the sun will burn out". I began wondering where I'd be stationed next...AND SO SOON...what luck! I mention this business about rumors because as you'll see, there IS something to them...after all. The "good" ones don't just materialize out of nothing. More on this later.
Speaking of shooting...We had to re-qualify periodically with our weapons. At basic (training) half of my bullets went into the bullseye...not bad for someone who had never shot a real gun before. "Re-qualify" might not be the right term to use...in that I don't know what the Air Force would have done had you missed the target completely with all rounds fired. Anyway...while at Cut Bank AFS...we shot again. It was a melee. Just boys having fun...as it were. Shoot...shoot...shoot...everybody shoots...and then...out came the pencils to mark the scores onto the official card. AND...wait for it... Well...it seems that not all the troops were happy with their scores as shot...SO...the same pencil was used to create a totally new pattern on a new target. With the advantage of a much shorter distance...now about 12 inches...the individual was able to "hit" the bullseye with great accuracy....round after ".30 caliber pencil"...round. "Shot" after "shot"...right in the center. I left my scores stand as shot...BUT as I now notice...I was not the one to enter my scores onto the score card! It was the "Range Officer". The score was 290(!)...EXPERT. We'd shot on 10 May 1965...(One day before I depart Cut Bank!)...and I did sign the damn thing. On the other hand I did get a Small Arms Marksmanship, Certificate of Achievement dated 12 October 1964...seven months earlier, with a rating of Marksman...the minimum to qualify. About right, under the conditions! [I need to confirn this!] Dateline: Velence HU 2008. The Consoul at the Hungarian Embassy was a guest at the house and at one point noticed the certificate mentioned above...and read it. Then he approched me and in a low voice asked..."You didn't kill anyone..did you?" No I said. [Well there was that engine.]
At first we all shared alike. As time passed, our various "talents" became known and things changed. All of our equipment was "tube type" except the GKA-5. It was solid state...which meant transistors...lots of them...lots of RCA 2N404s! No surprise because the GKA-5 was built by RCA. Under SOP...the site was supposed to order replacement cards as needed on an exchange basis. These "cards" also known as PCB(s)...printed circuit board(s)...contained the circuits, components and transistors to perform various logic function. Well...our site had a whole bunch of "renegade" boards that needed to be repaired. Fixing these boards on site would be a good thing. When it became known that I had hands on experience fixing PCB's I was approached to do so. Well...this meant an end to doing the routine daily maintenance with the guys. I set up operations in the "screen room" (see photo) and was soon turning out repaired boards that would be used as needed, but we'd ask the RCA tech rep to test them all the next time he was on site. The only thing I remember about the rep was that he spoke with a southern accent and called you either..."sunshine"...like..."hey sunshine"...OR "daddy rat"...like..."hey daddy rat", with the "hey" stretched out...heyyyy. The purpose of our site, in conjunction with the radar on the main base and the fighter interceptors, was to detect, identify, and if necessary, intercept and destroy enemy aircraft. How this all worked was a secret...officially "confidential" at our level. Years pass. I'm a civilian in Seattle. Seattle was a great place for surplus electronics. You name it...and some day you'd find it surplused. It was my practice to frequent all the surplus stores in the area on a regular basis. One day...at Western Nut and Bolt...sure as hell...there is the monitor receiver for the signal transmitted by the FRT-49! WOW. This meant that the whole system had been terminated. There were only a handful of sites that had the FRT-49/GKA-5. I remember looking at the receiver a number of times...trying to justify buying it. We had two of these at Cut Bank GATR and I remember that we didn't really use them. There was supposedly something wrong with them. The main problem was that we didn't have an FM signal generator(?), I was told. Why, I don't know. I wish now that I had a copy of the schematic for it, just to see what the big deal was about aligning it without the right test gear...knowing what I know now. Anyway, I never did buy one because it was single channel crystal controlled. Had it been tunable I'd have thought about it. As time passed they scrapped it for parts, as I recall! A bit later, I'm at yet another surplus place...the one across the street from Taco Time...on Elliot. There, I see a mountain of GKA-5 boards. Well now...The GKA-5 was built at a time, and for the government, so that nothing was spared as to the materials used. The standards of the day dictated thick plating of the traces and pins. These board were now being stripped for the GOLD!
This was toward the end of my tour at Cut Bank Radron but well before the news of closure was made official. I had acquired a roommate not long after I arrived. His name, Stiltner...A2C Dennis Stiltner. Our "roommateship" was about average. He liked to drink beer...I didn't. He was into Rock and Roll...I was into the classics. He would read Playboy...I would read his Playboy. He was into guns...I would join in playing with his guns. Anyway...you get the picture. One day he shows up with a steel guitar and amp! Well...I did have a reel to reel tape deck...and I would play my classical tapes...so! Time passes. Then one day...there are drums in our room. Stilt had found someone to jam with. He was a cooks helper. This goes on for some time...on and off...and the drums were usually left laying about...on the floor! THEN one night...I wake up and feel cold. Stilt was a smoker...I wasn't (at the time)...and regs required you to not smoke in bed...meaning you'd have to get out of bed to smoke, hence Stilt had the window, on his side of the room, open . Nothing for it...I'll have to get up and close it. This I do. In a daze, I vaguely remember tripping over...or stepping in...yes...that was it...stepping into...something...that made a funny sound as I did so. "Freud moves in mysterious ways...grasshopper..." I swear it was an accident! Truely!
When the base was on alert, it of course meant that GAT/R, pronounced "gator", was also on alert. As I indicated before, the site was nine road miles from the main base (two miles line of site). The one and only gate to our site was always locked but not guarded. There was a call box/intercom to gain entry. GAT/R was a "Category I" site. During an alert it was not uncommon to post someone up on top of the building, for a better view, and armed with an M1 Carbine. There was but one road leading to the site, where it then ended. From the roof, it was possible to see for miles back along the road. I remember one day when we went outside for a breath of air...and "what the hell", there is a car parked on "our" road! There was no one in sight! We called the main base to inform them of the situation and that we'd be out of communications. We grabbed a weapon each and while I covered, my partner (he had the higher rank) went out to investigate. Well...it turned out to be "no big deal". There was a notice inside the vehicle stating that it was owned by the government...and that the driver was doing land survey. Like YEAH SURE! And we'd just fallen off the turnip truck. Well... It really did turn out to be no big deal, though we did keep an eye out until the guy showed up and left. It was my understanding, per our Catagory I status, that we were not obliged to let just anyone onto the site without written permission. And certainly not during an alert. Do you remember the A1C AP I mentioned before? Well there he was at the front gate ringing for entry. Over the intercom, he was told...wait for it...no. The AP tried again...same response...NO. Up to this point no one had actually taken a look outside. The AP was now demanding to be let in... Well...I don't remember the guys name...really...but he grabbed an M1 and cracked open the front door...and from the doorway...fired off a round more or less in the direction of the AP, who was is in the process of climbing the fence(!), which, needless to say got the APs attention and put and end to that nonsense. The A1C AP retreated.
One of the first things they gave us, once at the GAT/R site, were radiation film badges...a dosimeter...for the recording of X and Gamma rays. We were to have them with us at all times...which we did by clipping it to our fatigue shirt pocket flap with the attached alligator clip. It was made of plastic, blue in color, and about the size of a book of matches. There was a small window cut out of one side, to, I assume, let the radiation in...the rest being shielded. I remember turning in the badge at some interval. The FRT-49 was a big transmitter! There were two of them...facing each other. They were about eight feet tall and about 15 feet long...I'm guessing.
There were lethal voltages present everywhere within the cabinets. There was also ionizing radiation present in two of the four cabinets...the exception were the Control and Heat Exchanger. For safety purposes, the cabinet doors had electro mechanical interlocks, preventing one from opening a door with the transmitter in operation. Open a door...and the transmitter would be shut down.
Sometime during the tour, our badges were collected and we received new ones. They were to U.S. Navy specs...the DT-60 D/PD.
There was a circumstance under which one could open a door with the transmitter operational. A side note: It was the job of the night shift to wax and buff the floors. To wit...you'd work your way from one end of the building to the other, sweeping the buffer back and forth. It was an electric motor driven contraption spinning a buffing pad...with the sideways motion controlled by the elevation of the handle. Slightly up...the buffer moved left...slightly down...moved it to the right. Anyway...back and forth you'd go. With its 1/4 horsepower motor, it was quite possible to...how should I put it...lose control of the buffer to the extent that it would go off in some unexpected direction...and with great velocity. Well now! The trick was...when between the transmitters...to sweep the buffer back and forth...such as not to so much as touch either one of their doors. It was PONG before there was PONG. It never failed to happen. Bam! The door was hit...the door interlock would open..and the transmitter would shut down...setting off the alarm bell...AND switch over to the other transmitter. As I was saying...Under certain conditions it was deemed desirable for the transmitters to continue operation regardless of the state of not only its doors but certain other...(self protection)...circuits. This condition would be met under...for example...an eminent attack. I remember the first time I had time to take a close look at the FRT-49's. Looking at all the meters, switches and knobs...I noticed one unexceptional switch labled...BATTLESHORT. Well now...It would turn out, that with that switch thrown...not only could the doors be opened...but certain circuits were allowed to fail...and the transmitter would continue to function...albeit at non peak performance...and with door ajar...as in the case of a near hit...shaking the building. An alarm bell would also ring continuously during this time. I remember throwing the BATTLESHORT switch on a few occasions to make some minor...though nessessary...adjustments inside the RF cabinet with the transmitter operational...and thinking about potential dangers. But...it was just life on a big Air Force Base...
Continued: Stories III
Copyright © Steve Tuba 2003-2010. Photography Copyright © Steve Tuba 1999-2010. |
War
stories
My receiver site was located a good two
hundred yards from the Flight Facilities building. The F/F building
was Comm Group ADMIN, RAPCON and housed the matching transmitters
(GAT) to my receivers (GAR)(Ground to Air Transmit and Ground to Air
Receive). Communications between the two locations was by
intercom...thought I had a phone also. One day I got a call to
notify me of a possible problem at my site. One of my receivers was
picking up a signal...but not from any aircraft. I plugged in a
headset to listen. Sure enough there was a strange signal alright.
Strong! As I recall it was an intermittent problem...it would come
and go...day after day. One day a lieutenant showed up with a
voluminous 132 column printout of all the frequencies in use on the
whole island. We went over the list...but it showed nothing of
interest. What was needed was a way to pinpoint the source of the
signal. So...I set about the task of designing and building a
directional beam antenna.
AN/ZAP-B1 is seen just to the right of the ceiling lamp at top center
frame. The sharp end of the "stake" is pointed downward.
Dateline: Seattle, WA USA. ~1972
The
Dose House was built just after the turn of the century...1911.
This
marked the top of about one hundred steps and in fact were called
"the Dose steps" that were then incorporated into the park
system in the 1920's.
As
kids we knew none of this. It was just
"one-hell-of-an-easy-way" to get down to the lake for a day
of swimming. Sadly, recent repairs, visible in the photo above, alter
the original rustic appearance. 
I
took possession of
the "treasure" since I was the oldest and could
better...uh...uh...safe guard them! Years pass. As a photographer I
made copies of a few. I also wondered about the history, not only of
the cards but how they came to be where we'd found them. There were
clues on the cards that told part of the story. They were made in
Paris. The models were assigned a number and
when combined with the "pose" number...would now become
the photo number. For example, the above card is 1755. The model was
number 17...the 55th used pose. In a circle at the bottom left
corner, "PC 1755 Paris". The model looks to be about
18-19ish...and she's wearing a necklace of coins.
Front
gate, Cut Bank Air Force Station.
Berman
(photo) tried the comm check trick again months later while I was on
night shift. Berman was a funny fellow. He was short, but a body
builder. He tended to stutter, but was the base telephone operator.
There
is a bond that forms between troops that arrive at a place about the
same time. I guess it's the "us against them" thing. But
also that you are sharing the start of a new adventure...as it were.
So it was with Stiltner, Mullins and myself. Mullins was a married
A1C, while Stilt and I were A2'nds and roommates. Stilt...I called
him Stilt...or just to kid him, I'd call him "Stilt the Wiltner
Stilt"...a play on Wilt "the stilt" Chamberlain the
basketball pro. He didn't like it. Mullins was tall, soft
spoken and mild mannered, (and "able to leap tall
buildings in a single bound"). Even though Mullins was an A1C he
had cross-trained which meant that he had no more field experience
than we did...Stilt and I.
Epilog: I seem to remember that a day did come, when, under guard for
lack of a better word, he was allowed a tour of GAT/R. This was
close to the end. He seemed interested and I think glad that he
was finally able to see with his own two eyes the inside of what had
been a big mystery to him. It was fun though, not to be able to tell
him specifically "what that was" or "what that
did." (Can't tell ya.) Today it would have been..."If I
told ya...I'd have to kill ya"!
The
FRT-49, R. to L., Power Supply, Control, RF (radio frequency) and
Heat Exchanger cabinets. The RF cabinet contained the six foot tall,
three cavity Klystron. The cabinets were painted a light blue...the
photograph was taken with "daylight" film under tungsten
light. I've "corrected" it a bit...but that's all it
gets...close enough.
A1C
Mullins. In the background left is a Klystron assembly with its
three gold plated cavities...each about three feet in diameter.
The
Power Supply cabinet being loaded pursuant to being shipped out to
another site. The back of three cabinets visible, are, left to right,
the Power Supply, RF, and Heat Exchanger.
A
front view of the Control cabinet. 
Pictured is my personal badge...it was never asked for...and I
didn't volunteer to turn it in. They cost the government $1.