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stevetuba.co.uk
Stories VII
and How I became a legend in my own mind. A work in progress.
The word was out that the 3385th squadron barracks were to be renovated. Gads! These barracks had been built in the 1940s and though they looked ok from the outside...inside was another story. The floors were bare wood which was uneven and had large gaps between the boards. There were barracks on other parts of the base that were exactly the same as ours...and they had been posted as condemned decades ago.
The punch line was that...wait for it...as the barracks became habitable...it was not the former occupants that got to move back...but new troops as they came in! I never did see the inside of a completed barracks! Better that way...I guess.
The 40 week (6 days a week, 6 hours a day) course, Ground Radio Maintenance Tech (this was, at this time, Light and Heavy Ground Radio combined)...was broken into "blocks" of various lenghts...some short...some long. These blocks were taught be different instructors. Each one had a different personality as one would expect. The block, "Synchro and Servo Mechanisms" was on the short side. From the first day, you'd get some idea as to the personality of your instructor...whether all business...or a bit lighter...or...as was the case in question...with an ax to grind. Our instructor was older then most of the previous instructors we'd had. In and of itself...no big deal...but this guy was different. It was as though he was under the gun with his superiors ...and hence his peers also. He was the "under dog"...in this conflict with the system. Everyday we'd hear bits and pieces of his story, mixed in with the course material. Anyway... A synchro transmitter and receiver are normally connected together with 5 wires. Any mistake or omission would lead to an error in its intended operation. To wit...the final test was simplicity itself. Five bundles (I could swear that there were 10...but right now I can't account for it) of 5 wires were to be hooked up as labeled. One end to the transmitter...and the other to the receiver. They were labeled R1, R2, S1, S2 and S3...at both end. The middle of each bundle was covered, so it was not possible to know the relationship between the wire labels at one end and those at the other. Ten connections per test bundle. All you had to do was to hook it up...note the operation...and write down the "fault". So...we'd been studying for the upcoming test...which was to take place the following week...which would also be the end of the block. Here we were on a Wednesday and as a group...most of us were getting antsy. Someone asked if we could test early. Well...this was music to the ears of our instructor. He glowed at the thought that he could hit up the "powers that be" for an early test...as a reflection of his teaching skills. "Look here...I've got a class...ready to test now." Days ahead of schedule. "What do you think of that?"...Huh? He really was thrilled...at the idea! There was one little problem. It was not up to the instructor...but the whole class...Hence it would be put to a vote as to who all wanted to take the test early. Sure enough...there was one individual that was holding out. Oh...A passing grade was 100%...you had to get them all...and he was not sure that he was ready for this! Fair enough...but...in the end...he changed his mind after a bit of encouragement from the class. The instructor went off to gain permission to test early...and it was granted. He was one happy camper. The test started. We each had our own technique to deal with the possibility of doing the same bundle twice. Some threw them on the floor once done with. Others just set them aside. Bingo bango bongo...done deal. Out of the 11(?) of us in the class...there were only three mistakes total. One by one...two by another. The two were by the guy that wasn't sure! Damn! The rest of us scored 100%. In the end, the class passed...regardless of the three errors...considering the circumstances.
Then there was the time that a major storm was forecast to blow in. Like a blizzard. This meant that there was a damn good chance that whoever was going on duty would become stranded. You guessed it. It was quite interesting to watch the Mess Sergeant dole out mass quantities of food for the strandees...my partner and I. A crate or two of milk, OJ, bacon, sausage, eggs, loaves of sliced bread, butter, the list went on. We had a frig and a small, though more than adequate, electric grill up at the site...so this was going to be fun. Sure enough...the storm hit. High winds blew in dry snow that drifted to heights of six feet or more...in places. The roads became impassable. We were stranded! The food was great...and we could eat anytime we wanted. We slept in various places. On top of the FRT-49 power supply cabinet was good because it was nice and warm, though eight feet off the ground. The AWP ((Equipment) Awaiting Parts) bin was another choice location.
In the photo above can be seen not only the Weasel...but the distant ridge on which was located our GAT/R site.
I remember the Technicolor sunrises. The great view of the Rockies. The spectacular green...of spring. The dark skies of night. The extreme cold. The warmth of summer. The sight of a bird of prey hovering...perfectly still as though painted onto the blue sky. The show drifts. The howl of the never ending wind.
I remember when...in the interest of improving morale...two hotshot Mess Sergeants were brought in. They hit the place like gangbusters. Things changed for the better...though interestingly I was not aware that there was a problem. I did mention though, that I felt that there was a grimness about the tour. Thurman P. Woodfork has been kind enough to provide me with some additional information about Cut Bank AFS. Woody was a Radar Tech. and we were there at the same time. Sadly...based on his Emails, I gather that we never met...but we remembered some of the same things. The "Black Hand" cartoons for one. Relative to my note above, he remembers "...that the Mess Sergeant had been removed and I think, given a court-martial (sic) for stealing our food supplies and selling them." And " I remember some of the troops refusing whatever glop he was serving up for meals and eating breakfast cereal instead." He goes on "I don't know why it took the brass so long to catch on to what he was doing." At the end, Woody says..."I left Cut Bank for Lewiston, and finally, having had just about all of Montana that I could stand, volunteered for Vietnam in order to escape. At least, I stayed warm." Please see my "Links" page for a link to Woody's website...wherein you'll find a number photographes...one of which (Main street running in front of the barracks...looking east.)...was taken in 1997...32 years after it was closed down.
Photo by MSgt. Mackie D. Bailey (Ret.). Looking east down "main street" as it looked in 1997, 32 years after the base was closed in 1965. Barracks 1, 2 and 3.
Looking west on "main street". Taken 1964. Barracks #1 is just out of the frame at the extreme right. When I first came upon it...it elicited in me, a deep emotional response that surprised me greatly. It was right out of the film "Twelve O'clock High"...the very first scenes. The WWII vet (the one telling the story) returns a few years later to his former air base in England...only to now see nothing but grass growing in the cracks of the old runway. For me to see Cut Bank AFS...the dilapidated barracks...the missing buildings...the desolation, and yes, the grass growing in the street...was just too much to take. It was not the "great times" that I had there...because there weren't any. It was not the great friends I made...because I didn't. I can't even say that it was a great experience...because it wasn't, though it was an experience. I think it was..."The" mission...doing something that "mattered". Having said that...to see Cut Bank AFS...officially "abandoned" in 1965...is like saying that it was all a big joke. I guess I feel anger. I bet that there is no plaque...commemorating "the" mission. Just playing with a few number...say 250 personnel...rotating over 13 years...3250. That's 3250 Cold War Worriors...doing their duty. Yeah right...It never happened here! "On this site, 3250(?) Air Force personnel performed a vital mission, during the height of the "Cold War", lasting 13 years. It was through their unselfish dedication to duty, under extreme conditions, which ultimately contributed to a final victory. They are not forgotten." Dream on...Tuba!
Oh...I've seen aerial photographs of Keesler AFB...and unless I'm mistaken...the 3385th squadron area is no more either...wiped clean. Written before I found the photo above. Oh!..One of the first thing you noticed at Cut Bank AFS was the howling noise created by the high winds blowing past and through all the wires and steam pipes etc. that ran behind the barracks...very eery it was. Anyway... The day came when the chow hall would close forever. This meant that we'd have to fend for ourselves by going to the base commissary and buy what ever we wanted. We were compensated. In all the time that I was there...I didn't even know that we had a commissary! If I'd have thought about it...I'd have realized that the married personnel had to have food too. I guess it points to the grimness factor...just do your job...and wait for relief to arrive...ha ha.
For entertainment...we played chess and cards, listen to music and read a book. Then the day came when the barracks were to be vacated. Gads! This was as a result of the commissary closing down.
Speaking of music...There is always a piece music that one associates with a location. At Cut Bank it was "Baby Love" by Diana Ross and the Supremes. At Keelser...it was the Beatles..."I Want to Hold Your Hand"...wafting throughout the squadron area.
OH! Get this! (Having to do with KP...Kitchen Police.) This one really takes the cake! KP was a fact of life...ok fine. But... The KP schedule was calculated on the Base being at full strength so you pulled KP at some interval and for some period. Sadly I don't remember and would not have been privy to the exact figures anyway...but needless to say, it was "reasonable", like three or four times during a normal 12 month tour of duty...for periods of one or two weeks, each. OK! BUT... unbeknownst to us...vis-a-vis the fact that the Base was closing down, personnel were being lost to the point where the old schedule was close to useless. It was possible for some of the troops to find themselves in the enviable position of having to pull a week of KP and a day later...ship out! Why this scenario should have effected the schedule, I don't know...and maybe it didn't...then again...maybe it did. Anyway...the word came down that we'd be required to pull one month of KP...the bad news...but we'd not ever have to pull it again for the remainder of "your" tour...the good news. DAMN! Nothing for it...ok fine. I mean it was not up for a vote...right? So...the day came and I started the month of KP...a real grind, long hours! Time passes...like maybe three months...and guess what? You've gotta be kidding! Word came down that we were to pull another...wait for it...MONTH of bloody KP. What...the bastards didn't know what they were doing? This was REAL Charlie Sierra. This was incredible...and hard to believe too...ha ha. My tour had been extended out to almost 15 month (The normal tour being 12 months) as it was...and here I would be spending two of those on KP...not counting the other month or so I'd already spent on same, virtually the entire time of the extension! Did this make sense, or was it bad planning? I'd like to know who the idiot was that came up with this farce of a plan. The First Shirt was a known prick...so I guess that the buck stopped there. The sad thing is that you are not only in a daze, but you are just so low on the scale of things...and no one took notes to see who was or was not pulling KP. Gads...you just didn't know everybody on Base. You never knew the big picture. The "system" did not have a vested interest in telling you anything...other than what it wanted you to know. Sound familiar? This little story, which takes place on an...isolated Air Force Radar Station...on a microscopic scale...speaks volumes about the macro scale of the rest of the system. Then of course there is the question of what anyone of us could/would have done...had we known. Then there was the fact that we at GAT/R had done our job of closing it down in record time...I guess, given that I was then assigned to help the radar guys (along with Woody) with their job of taking down the bubbles and hoisting out the gear. Again I ask...who put me in for the thrill of being there to the bitter end? Well...then there was SSgt. Baird...the new NCOIC of GATR. Here was the guy that wanted me to give him my extention course answers...if you can believe it. Anyway... All said and done...I did get a promotion out of it...so...hey...what more is there to say? Glad I asked...ha ha. The BLACK HAND! Well...there was a provocateur in our midst (GATR). As I'd said, the First Shirt was a real turkey...and was always coming up with new proclamations. But as soon as they'd be posted...our provocateur was on his case and would post his own view point in the form of a cartoon...right there in the mail room. They would always be topical and quite funny...and signed..."The Black Hand" in the form of a caricature of a hand...done in black ink. There was some suspicion that it was my roommate Stiltner...or was it Kennedy? I really don't know for sure...Hell...I can't remember if I ever knew. He was never caught! As the (isolated tour) joke went...it was just..."Life on a big Air Force Base". I hope to get some additional information from others that were there during this time. Done deal...Thanks Woody. Follow up: Dateline London: April 13, 2004 I've just heard from Denny Stiltner! I nice surprise. He writes, in part: "I didn't trust anyone with the secret of the black hand, even you. However, the guy in the mail room was my shill. He would place my cartoons all around the orderly room. The thing that really made my reputation was this: I was walking to the mailroom with a fresh cartoon when I saw the CO's car. The car was locked but the wing window was unlocked. I just popped the wing open, reached in and unlocked the door, and put the cartoon behind the sunvisor. Then I locked everything up including the wing window. He probably thought I had keys to his auto."..."They tried to find me but they never could." There you have it! Straight from the "Black Hand" himself. Follow up: Dateline London: May 1, 2004 I was surfing Sky today looking through the film channels for what's on and noticed that 'Twelve O'clock High' would be playing again and noted the time. After some more surfing, for what ever reason I ended up going back to that channel. I was not really interested in watching it again since it was not that long ago that I had done so. It was more out of curiosity that I watched the opening scenes because I had made a reference to it in one of my stories vis-a-vis seeing a recent photograph of Cut Bank AFS and drawing a parallel to one of the main characters, in the film, going back to his former base...etc. The character in question was taking a train...back to his old base and as the train slowed down, I wondered if one would see the station name. Having seen the film before I couldn't remember having made a note of it. But...this time I did. And sure as hell...there it was! Back in April, after a few exchanges of Email with Dennis...I asked him where he went after Cut Bank AFS. He wrote back...and I tried to look it up...but I didn't find it at all on the first map I tried. Grabbing a better map proved fruitful...and I thought nothing more about it...Until...in the film... The train slowed down and then I saw the station name appear out the window! Gads! They were one in the same...Alconbury!
One day the word comes down that there is to be a "shakedown" inspection! GADS! It was not until it was all over that it trickled down as to what it was all about. Well now...The Drill Team...as was the de rigueur...practiced doing fancy stuff with rifles...you've all seen in. It gets a bit fuzzy...as to the storage of said rifles...but it makes sense that since they'd need to be cleaned...etc...that they'd be entrusted to the custody of the individuals...right? On the other hand... A rifle went missing. AWOL...as it were. Like what...the total was short? Hence the inspection! Every room...searched high and low! If the inspection started with barracks number 1...then they found the rifle in the first room they searched in barracks...number...wait for it...2...(not even halfway into to the search)! The one just below me. It just goes to show...that there can be unexpected adverse effects from playing Joan Biaz LPs...Or...this guy might have been a "scope dope" as I think of it now. Need I say more?
I remember landing, after a 19 hour flight, in the afternoon...about 1530hrs...and being hit by rain...the humidity...you could cut it with a knife! Soon after checking in at the orderly room, I was temporarily assigned to a room. I go there and find two guys inside. Before I could even start to introduce myself...one of them says, almost immediately, "Are YOU Steve Tuba?". Gads...it sounded like I'd been found by a long lost relative...or my "spectacular reputation" had proceeded me...or had he heard about my two months of KP?...Or, was this guy just thrilled to be the first to shake my hand? Well...now. None of the above was the case. The two of them started laughing...after I said..."Yeah"...and seeing the surprised look on my face at "being recognised". The guy doing the talking had seen my name printed on my dufflebag...and hence that was all he need to get things started. I guess it was the "joke du jour". The next day...the same guy asks me if I have "BDT". I was pretty sure that the "B" stood for bad...something. Bad...what? Hell...I bit. He said he could tell me by looking at my dog tags...and hence asked to see them...and I complied...not wanting be without "BDT". He went on to study my DTs at some length...and pronounced that...NO I did not in fact have BDT...but promptly took care of the problem...by bending one in half. I felt much better...now that I HAD...a "Bent Dog Tag"! Sometimes you just wanted a snack. As it happened...there was a snack bar in the Day Room...and they had the best hotdogs...ever...with onions! That and a large cold lemonade really hit the spot. I can't tell you how many of those I had during my tour...I sometimes crave one...ok two...even now! Oh! I saw the Beatles flick...'HELP'...seven times. It did mean going off-base...to another military base/post...to do so...but it was well worth the effort...I thought at the time. I've not seen it since. I remember the MedEvac flights that would disembark the wounded to waiting ambulances...all of which was visible from my receiver site. I remember the F-105s and the occasional F-4 tearing up the sky. The constant roar of jet engines...and the B-52s taking off...fully loaded. I remember the spectacular tropical sunsets. The brightly colored fish in the tidal pools. I remember tooling around the narrow roads of Okinawa with Bill Bayless in his red S600 Honda Coupe...stopping now and then to take a photograph or two. I remember the Christmas of '65 spent at work with Swanny and Karas. Great fun. Good times. In "Stories I" I allude to the fact that SSgt. Nosel (the NCOIC) and I didn't hit it off too well. Well...there might...I say might...have been a reason. When I arrived at Cut Bank AFS...I was assigned an individual (I think it was Towers) to walk me around to the various places that I needed to check in with...leaving a copy of my orders...etc. One place was "supply", where I was issued a parka. There were about 5 or 6 of these places...and on a small base...it took no time at all...given that he knew where we were going...and there was someone there to deal with you when you got there. At Kadena...I was assigned an individual alright...and a pickup. The base was huge. It started out ok...but at one point, he had to go...leaving me to my own devices. Thanks! No map...no idea where these places were...no idea which ones were close to each other...or at opposite ends of the base. OK...FINE. Off I went. Once I managed to find the next place...I see that it is closed. The next one...they're out to lunch...and so on. I was getting real tired walking all over the base trying to find all the places, only to then find them closed...etc. The whole thing could have been knocked out in a day...but SSgt. Nosel thought it unimportant. I would have thought that it would have been a common courtesy extended to the "new guy"...no? Oooo...Kayyy! I had his number! I confess now...that I milked it...atfer that first day. Two can play this game! I don't remember exacly...but it may...I say may...have taken me a week and half...two week to get squared away! I think that my atititude was a result of my recent experience at Cut Bank AFS...I guess I felt that if the system was not going to look after me...I sure as hell was not going to let some Alpha Hotel jack me around from the get-go...I was not in the mood. SSgt. Nosel was a "wheeler dealer"...an "operator"...and I remember when, one day, he got his "ass in a sling"...and we all had to "pay the price" by pulling a detail (hard labor)...because of it. After playing games...things settled down...and I was left alone with "my receivers". Oh! After I took over the site...there were only two occations that one of my receivers failed...during the night shifts. Swanny called me in (per my instructions) on one, to help with a dead receiver. Sure enough. It took me about twenty minutes to locate a shorted capacitor...a rarity...it was mostly a defective tube. In the end...SSgt. Nosel was replaced...or just rotated out...I don't remember ever knowing which. I remember working shift...early on. My team leader was a friendly character. Once we checked in at Flight Facilities...we were off in the pickup. We'd spend most of the shift...on the road. One night we even drove down to Naha! In the states...it was called "cruising the strip"...and we did! He loved to drive. We had a radio...so we could be contacted...and it did happen on occasion that we'd be called back. It was always the same...I'd get ready...and then go to his room at the other end of the other wing. He was never ready...but getting close. He had a bad case of acne and would always be in the middle of his cleansing ritual. I got to watch! We got along well...and had a good time cruising Old Koza...New Kosa...BC Street...etc. Welcome to "life on a big Air Force Base".
The Radio Maintenance shack was not completely fitted out. We had a few pieces of test equipment, but they were just laying about.
A day or so later they tell me that the lumber is in...and stored a short distance away. Soon...I'm carrying said lumber...one(!) 2X4 at a time...back to the shack. It was one at a time because, when I lifted them for the first time...to my utter amazement...I found them to be either extremely heavy (wet?)...or I had lost my strength. After a few trips...all the lumber was back at the shack...ready to be cut to size...and I'd then nail them to the wall to make the shelves I envisioned. I did make note of the fact that the nails were unusually large...about 5 inches long...and nearly a quarter of a inch in diameter! Well now! It took forever to saw this lumber. Now, I was sure that I had lost my strength. Something in the water...maybe. Anyway...I get through it...time to start nailing them to the wall. I won't bore you with the details except to say that it was a Herculean task...I kid you not! The punch line was...The wood had been...Teak!
I remember discovering that Korat AB had a library...ok...it was small...but it was a place to go during my time off duty. I remember on more that one occasion calmly sitting there reading a book...and the next moment being rocked by the blast of a 750lb bomb which had been dumped by a returning F-105 prior to landing. Photo to follow...once I find it. As I think back now...I can not remember a single meal I had while at Korat. It was that bad. I remember getting the (routine) call and then having to go out...usually in the early morning...to the portable Air Traffic Control Tower located at the end of the runway. It would ultimately be manned by a flight officer. It contained a receiver and transmitter...and was powered by a diesel generator...which I'd fire up...and then check the gear. Though I'd been able to driving since I was about 14 I didn't have a licence and in the beginning I was not allowed to drive our truck...so this meant that I'd have to walk from my hooch to the flightline. Distance wise it was not that far...but it meant walking past the Royal Thailand military guards that were spaced at interval. They were armed with what looked to me to be vintage WWI pieces...right down to the longest bayonets I'd ever seen...the combined length of which was more that the height of the soldier carrying it. It was interesting...in as much as I didn't speak Thai...and I'm sure the guards didn't speak English...ok...American. I was never challenged...though I was always nervous. Later, I was allowed to drive...but it was still not without apprehension. Oh...Kadena was "laid back"...a veritable resort in comparison to Korat. The normal non-military mode of transportation was by taxi. It was not possible to hit the "main drag" and not find a cab within a minute or so. If you were in uniform and were walking to some location, you were on your own, every man for himself. Well...Not at Korat! You hit the road, the next vehicle going your way would pick you up! It never failed. It made no difference who was driving or walking...Army...Air Force...you were picked up. I remember being surprised. A real sense of camaraderie in a common mission. As I recall, I never met the crew that we were replacing...Fredericks and I...since I didn't get there until five days after Fredericks showed up. On the other hand, a SSgt. showed up sometime late in my tour to assume the position of NCOIC...I guess. Well now... I had a GRC-27 (Transmitter) on the bench about that time...and I guess sarge thought he'd take a crack at it and took over the work I'd started. It was an involved process, every step had to be done just so...no room for errors. If you got yourself off on an early step but continued, thinking that things were just fine...you could end up transmitting on the wrong frequency. He did...and it did! In the end I took it back and finished it. On Okinawa we had "house boys" to do our "domestic" chores...shining our boots, making our bunks...polishing the floor...the laundry. At Korat we had "hooch girls" doing it. Our girl's name was...subject to spelling correction...Kajana (ka-John-a). Photo someplace.
One day I got a call to go to the Army command post. It seems that they had a GRA-53...a Collins Radio, VHF/UHF (Very High/Ultra High Frequency) transceiver. I hit the road, and was soon picked up...and heading for the other end of the base. I troubleshot it...it was a diode (solid state) in the power supply circuit. Like most things "up country" I had to order the part.
The last day arrived and I was packed, ready to go. That must have been the way it was. Oh...I do remember the early morning ride in the back of an open truck...along with others...and fighting the urge to pull out one of the Nikons...as photographic possibilities passed by. (Given the low light levels and 64 ASA Ektachrome, it would have made for a tough shot from the back of a bouncing truck). A water buffalo being worked in a field with the just rising sun in the background...the scene is still in my mind. The sunrise itself...casting a soft light onto watery green fields. That's it. That's all I remember. I don't remember why I was on a truck, as opposed to a plane, nor where it was taking me.
Going to Korat, as I mentioned before, Fredericks and I didn't travel together...at least not from Don Muang AB (Bangkok) to Korat AB. On the other hand, I received orders amending my orders, changing my departure date from the 12th of August, as shown above (block 9), to the 21st. Just a case of transposition...12-21? I must assume that his orders were changed also. Postdated 17 Feb 2010: If his orders were not ammended...then it would be 14 days after Fredericks gets to Korat...before I show up! Leaving Korat, we'd have traveled at the same time, but I just don't remember being with him...on the truck. Now, with the Twilight Zone theme playing in the background, is the strange part of the story. Stapled to the back of the three remanding copies of my TDY orders was a small document. Upon close examination...it turns out to be form AF 1297, Temporary Issue Receipt, dated 25 August...the day I arrived at Korat, on the back of which, in my hand writing (scribble), is what looks to be my itinerary for the fight back to Kadena. But...it's not as though I'd copied it from a given source. It looks more like I was writing down...history. It's partly in ink..and then changes to pencil...and back to ink. Dep. Korat 1315 Arr. BKK 1350 Dep. BKK 1835 Arr. TKL 1910 Dep. TKL 2040 Arr. UBN 2155 Dep. UBN 2305 Arr. Naha 0430-(0630) Well now...BKK was Bangkok...TKL was Ta Khli...UBN was Ubon...Naha was of course back on Okinawa...and would have meant an additional bus ride to Kadena...I guess. The times seem to indicate that I was traveling by plane...but what a route! If it was as indicated...the trip would have taken 24 hours...assuming that I'm right about the early morning truck ride. And what's this about 1315hrs...departure. The bottom line is that I don't remember any of it...why? AND...Not a single photograph, to now jar the memory. Amazing... Having taken a short break...I seem to remember that there was something about an aborted departure because of problems with the plane...a C-123. And then there is this...
So much for being an eyewitness to your own life...A day later... More thoughts...Is it possible that my "truck ride" was the one from Naha to Kadena? Could "0430" have been my arrival at Naha...and the "0630", with a delayed departure, been my arrival at Kadena...by bus?
Continued: Stories VIII
Copyright © Steve Tuba 2003-2012. Photography Copyright © Steve Tuba 1999-2012. |
War
stories
Rumors
filtered down that the new barracks were to have partitions and
Linoleum on the floor and god knows what else. Well...guess what?
They were to do our side of the squadron first...which meant that
we'd all have to move to the other side! In turn, it meant that we'd
have to move all our stuff...including the mattresses. The
move was to take place after school...1830hrs. It was a surreal
sight to see this huge mass of troops moving silently in the rapidly
fading light carrying all their possessions. The light colored
mattresses seemingly floating across the sand in and around the
trees...all moving in the same direction...much like carpenter ants
carrying leaves. Done deal!
By
the third day...the powers-that-be decided to rescue us. The base
had a Weasel...a tracked vehicle. One of our guys...GAT/R...drove.
With a fresh crew and more food...they set off on a across country
rescue. The rest was history...except the fact that the Weasel took
out a farmers fence. No big deal...in the scheme of things. 
3385th
School Squdron with Tower #2 dominating the center of the squadron
area. Note the shadow. The BOQ is just to the north and the large
white area in the upper right being the base hospital complex. All
the barracks are gone. USGS photo.
We'd
bring our food back to the barracks...some guys even had hot
plates...and would at least heat their food. I lived off of PB&J sandwiches!
Well...this
meant living in Cut Bank...the town, (it had only one traffic light)
42 miles away. I stayed at a motel (photo)..and we were bussed back
and forth for the duration. 
Cut
Bank AFS had a Drill Team...as I found out with the coming of
spring. Ok...fine. Every now and then they'd practice in the
street...right in front of our barracks. As I recall...I only knew
one individual...(there were none from GAT/R) and he had the room
just below mine in barracks number 2. When I say I "knew"
him...it was more as a result of his habit of playing Joan Biaz
LPs...and playing them loud...and having to ask him to turn it down!
I don't remember his duty assignment. Anyway...
So...one
day I thought I would do something about it. I talked to the bosses
and they said that they'd get what ever materials I needed...which
was just some lumber and nails. Ok?
I
remember having to wait for the sun to set before they could start
the nightly film...because the rays of the setting sun impinged right
onto the projection screen.
A
GRA-53 on the bench at
Kadena. A2C Steve Hirsch doing the honors.
