A Journey Into The Past

Connecticut River, looking towards Vermont. I swear that old log has been there since I was a kid.

When I was young, our family was very close. Weekends would be spent at one or the other of the grandparents' homes, holidays everyone would come to our house.

There were cousins, uncles and aunts. Sometimes all at once in a not very large house. But we all squeezed in, we were happy. At Thanksgiving and Christmas, the house was full. Lots of food, lots of people, lots of laughter. Those were good times.

Now I am older. Most of those voices I listened to growing up are silent now. Those of us who are left are scattered to the four winds. The older generation has passed on, the younger generation have their own lives. Pursuing jobs and careers we had to move on. I to the Air Force, my youngest brother to Texas, New York and now, finally, Boston. A cousin in Florida, another in Kentucky (last I heard), and two more, the oldest two, still in New Hampshire. My brothers and I are not that far apart, but not that close. Not "stop by a couple of times a week" close.

Growing up we all lived within twenty miles of each other. Less perhaps, it was such a long time ago, it's hard to remember. But the drives to get there were short. We were close emotionally and in distance.

When I went into the world and made my own family, I tried to keep the traditions alive, stay close, cherish each other. We stay close, but not in distance. Two of my kids live in California with their own small tribes. Each has two children. The thought of my four grandchildren being so far away is painful at times.

My middle kid lives in Alexandria, just outside DC. We visit her, she visits us, as often as we can. It's a bit of a trip but nowhere near as taxing as getting to California and back.

Now I understand why, after every visit home while in the Air Force, my father would get teary eyed when we would leave. Now I get it.

The Sunday after Thanksgiving, The WSO had made for us a plan. Once her sister had returned home there would be only five of us. The Missus Herself, The WSO and her two daughters and, naturally, Your Humble Scribe. The plan was to pile into the car, frightfully early, and drive up to New Hampshire to see my Mom. It was a good plan, other than the up and back all in one day.

Still and all, it was good to see my mother and good to see her holding her newest great-granddaughter. The visit was sublime, but all too short.

I do like the fact that the kids try and get together with each other, and with us, as often as their busy schedules let them. Being spread over a continent makes it hard but with modern air travel it's doable. Tiresome, but doable.

I had The WSO snap some photos of the trip back to Little Rhody. Actually just the short distance from where my Mom lives to where my "territory" as a kid ended. Near the small town where my Dad grew up, the darkening sky made her put the camera away.

But these photos remind me of a time when I was young, the world was new, and we all lived within twenty miles of each other.

Those memories echo still, they will until I draw my last breath.

Family is something to be cherished...

Another view of the river which separates Vermont and New Hampshire. She runs from Canada to the sea, not that far from where I live now. An old friend.

North Walpole, near where my Dad grew up. He didn't like people thinking he was from here. The local paper, in his obituary, said he went to school here. That would have annoyed him no end!

I like the way the sun seems to touch this mountain with fire. It's across the river from where I was born.

Bellows Falls, where my two brothers and I were born. Where my Uncle Charlie lived. Our high school sports rivals. A long time ago...

Another view, just a bit further on from the last. In the very old days, canoes had to be portaged around this area. The river drops about ten feet here. Hence the name, Bellows Falls.

There's that mountain again, the railroad here is active. I remember hearing the mournful whistles of the trains, off in the distance on a cold winter's night.

Those high tension lines and their towers caught my eye. So I had The WSO snap a photo.

Zoomed in, the towers look out over the river valley, saying farewell to the sun. It was a very pleasant day.

Heroes - Of An Earlier, Even More Insane Time

Raoul Wallenberg
4 August 1912 - 17 July 1947

Oskar Schindler
28 April 1908 - 9 October 1974

I knew of these two men, heroes to me, and to many others.

I had read of Mr. Wallenberg when I was a kid. As World War II was a favorite subject, I read anything about that war (and still do). I remember reading of his efforts to rescue Jews from the Nazis near the end of the war, and how he vanished into Soviet captivity and death.

I did not learn of Herr Schindler until the movie Schindler's List came out. That film tore at my heart yet raised my spirit, all at the same time.

There are those who stand out over the dim reaches of time and memory, those who should be held up as a light to a dark and disturbed world. Not all people are indifferent, or evil. Some will stand against the darkness.

Some will pay the price with their lives, some will survive to live out their lives, often in relative obscurity.

Master Sergeant Roddie Edmonds, United States Army

I learned of MSgt Edmonds' story only this week, first in this post by superb writer, Robert J. Avrech. (If you're not reading his blog, you should be.) Then after making a note to myself to perhaps write a post of my own, I received an e-mail from one of my readers (thanks Bob) with a link to this post. (Someone I should perhaps start reading on a regular basis.)

The Daily Mail and CDR Salamander have also written of this incredible and brave man. I really can't add any more to this than these fine writers have. So go, read those accounts.

Fullbore, indeed.

Haze Gray, Definitely Destroyers

HMS Havock in 1893, the first modern destroyer (Source)

...Then I read in the comments from Tuna's post a heart rending plea from Skip, one of the long time friends here at Sarge's place. He'd like more Destroyers. Now, as Readers are well aware, I'm an AF Fighter Pilot (Ok, I was, when I was young, skinny and had hair). Sarge is an AF Aircraft Maintainer, and Tuna is a Navy NFO. Where are we gonna get Destroyers? Quote from Juvat - 30 November 2015

I have been aboard a number of ships of the haze gray variety, some still on active service, some not. Those of the "not" variety include two battleships, USS Alabama and USS Massachusetts. I have been aboard two old WWII submarines, USS Drum and USS Lionfish, which, unlike modern subs, are painted gray. So it's all been gray ships that go to sea to make war upon the Nation's foes. (Oh yeah, one destroyer, USS Joseph P. Kennedy and one former Soviet/East German/West German missile corvette, Hiddensee, are on the list of non-active service warships whose decks I have trod.)

I have been to sea on two aircraft carriers, both courtesy of my daughters. My first ride was out of Norfolk, aboard the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower (Ike), CVN-69, courtesy of The Nuke, her ship at the time. The second ride, underway under nuclear power - again, was out of Sandy Eggo, aboard the USS Ronald Reagan (Gipper), CVN-76, courtesy of The WSO, whose old air wing used to be assigned to that ship.

But today's post is not about aircraft carriers, submarines or corvettes, nope, it's about destroyers. A warship near and dear to the hearts of Skip and other old timey tin can sailors.

I have been (or am) associated with a number of destroyers, either through the job or through the progeny. Two of the three were tin can sailors at one point in their lives. These greyhounds of the fleet are worth their weight in gold. Sometimes (as in the newest class) they seem to cost as much as their weight in gold. (Not really, though Zumwalt costs roughly $150 a pound. Which at 14,564 tons is not chump change! About half the price of silver...)

So let's get to it, here are, what I like to call, the family's destroyers.

All of the following are U. S. Navy photos in the Public Domain.

USS O'Bannon, DD-987

USS O'Bannon (DD-987), a Spruance-class destroyer, was the third ship of the United States Navy to be named for Lieutenant Presley O'Bannon (1776–1850), an early hero of the US Marine Corps.

O'Bannon was laid down on 21 February 1977 by Ingalls Shipbuilding, Pascagoula, Miss.; launched on 25 September 1978; and commissioned on 15 December 1979, Commander Marshall R. Willenbucher in command.

Originally scheduled to remain in service through 2010, decommissioning of the Spruance-class destroyers was accelerated as a cost-saving measure, and by June 2005 O'Bannon was the last Spruance destroyer in service in the Atlantic Fleet.

O'Bannon was decommissioned on 19 August 2005 and struck from the Naval Vessel Register the same day. In 2004 O'Bannon was to be sold to Chile, but in 2005 she was scheduled to be transferred via FMS to the Turkish Navy. In the end she was sunk off the coast of Virginia at 3:23pm on 6 October 2008 in a training exercise by the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower carrier group, using missiles, guns and finally a Mk 82 bomb. Wikipedia

I never had the pleasure of going onboard the O'Bannon, or seeing her, but I do have the ball cap as worn by the crew! My son collected one of those during a midshipman cruise. Might have been between his freshman and sophomore years at CORTRAMID (Career Orientation and Training for Midshipmen), I don't remember. Seems like it was a long time ago.

O'Bannon was the first of three Spruance-class destroyers "in the family," as it were. These ships, as a class, were affectionately known as "Sprucans." "Spru" being short for Spruance and "can" being short for "tin can," an old name for a destroyer.

USS Arthur W. Radford, DD-968

USS Arthur W. Radford (DD-968) was a Spruance-class destroyer in the United States Navy. She was named for Admiral Arthur W. Radford USN (1896–1973), the first naval officer to be Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Arthur W. Radford was laid down by the Ingalls Shipbuilding Division of Litton Industries at Pascagoula, Mississippi and launched on 21 March 1975, sponsored by Mrs. Arthur Radford, the admiral's widow. Radford was commissioned on 16 April 1977, and decommissioned on 18 March 2003, after serving 26 years.

Arthur W. Radford was decommissioned in 2003, then stricken from the Naval Vessel Register on 6 April 2004 and eventually assigned to the Inactive Ship Maintenance Facility at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. On 8 June 2010, the ex-Radford was transferred to the State of Delaware for eventual sinking as an artificial reef onto the Del-Jersey-Land Inshore Reef site (38°31'N 74°31'W), about 30 nm southeast of Cape May, New Jersey and northeast of Ocean City, Maryland.  On 10 August 2011, her hull was scuttled off the coast of Delaware, to form part of the largest artificial reef on the east coast, and the longest vessel to be used for this purpose in the Atlantic. Wikipedia

The Radford was The Naviguesser's second destroyer he rode as a midshipman. This was in the summer between his junior and senior years, that would have been his "officer" cruise. The summer before that was his "enlisted" cruise. He was in the Gator Navy for that one. Perhaps I should write about the Gator Navy some time. The Naviguesser came back from that cruise determined to be a gunner's mate or a bosun's mate. Until I pointed out the pay disparity between enlisted and officer.

I understood though, being enlisted is way more fun than being an officer. DAMHIK.

This was another ship I never saw, though again, I have the ball cap. (Okay, technically the ball caps for O'Bannon and Radford are my son's, but I am in possession of those. I also doubt he wants them back. At least he hasn't asked, yet...)

Now about that funky looking mast, ya know, this one, that futuristic looking thing aft -

USS Arthur W Radford mast detail.

The US Navy's Advanced Enclosed Mast/Sensor (AEM/S) system fully integrates advanced materials, structures, and manufacturing technologies with sensor technology, electromagnetics, and signature reduction.

Ship masts, with the complex antenna geometries mounted on them, as well as the latticework of the mast structure, contribute significantly to a ship's radar cross section. The AEM/S consists of a faceted radome that provides a cleaner exterior profile, with internal platforms on which antennas and sensors are mounted. The radome material is designed so that the antennas can transmit and receive through the material. The base of the mast is constructed from fiber reinforced composite skins encasing end-grain balsa core. The upper (radome) section consists of structural foam and fiberglass.

In May 1997, USS Arthur Radford received the first-ever shipboard installation of the AEM/S System, to serve as a proof-of-concept or advanced technology demonstrator. Sailors reported an unanticipated benefit of being able to work aloft in bad weather, increasing the efficiency of scheduled shipboard maintenance.

Using lessons learned from the Radford, the Navy designed the AEM/S into a new class of ships, the first being the USS San Antonio (LPD-17) amphibious transport dock. Wikipedia

Basically, think stealth mast. I always did. Here's what a standard Sprucan pair of masts looked like -

Masts on USS Fife, DD-991

USS Briscoe, DD-977

USS Briscoe (DD-977), named for Admiral Robert Pearce Briscoe USN, was a Spruance-class destroyer built by the Ingalls Shipbuilding Division of Litton Industries at Pascagoula, Mississippi. She was laid down 21 July 1975, launched 28 December 1976 and commissioned 3 June 1978. The ship operated out of Norfolk, Virginia during her entire 25-year career. When decommissioned, she was part of Destroyer Squadron 22.

Briscoe was decommissioned 2 October 2003. She was disposed of in support of a fleet training exercise on 25 August 2005. She lies at 34°49’N – 72°31’W at a depth of 2,252 fathoms. Wikipedia

Now Briscoe was The Naviguesser's penultimate ship, the ship he first went to sea aboard as a newly minted ensign. She was the ship in which he went to war at the opening of the second Gulf War. For, you see, my son was commissioned in the spring of 2001. We all remember what happened in September of that year. (Shame on you if you don't!)

When they returned from the Gulf, we met them at the pier. On a very cool, very wet morning in Norfolk. The carrier had come in the night before, the rest of the group came in the morning after, as The Naviguesser put it, "steaming in effing circles all night!"

We went aboard after the mob at the pier had thinned out a bit, I got to see my son tell a certain officious young Seaman, "No, I don't have to effing wait for the electrical lines to go over. Those are my guys doing that job. I am the effing ELO and I'll go aboard when and where I wish. Are we clear sailor?" Much like his Dad, the boy can blister paint (and idiots) with his vocabulary.

So Briscoe was the first active duty warship I ever went aboard. Yes, I have the ball cap. Once, years later, as I was going through the security gate at work, the guard waved me down. After I stopped and rolled my window down to inquire as to the reason for the stop, the guard, a rather large black gentleman, started laughing...

"Well, if it ain't Disco Briscoe! I haven't seen one of those caps in years! I used to work in the 'Yard down south, many's the time I've seen Briscoe pull in. Were you assigned to her?"

After a long, and very jovial, conversation, I went on into work. Made a friend that day, that guard was a really good guy. So that's my Briscoe story. Pouring rain, an overly officious sailor and an affable gate guard. I have (somewhere) a small piece of fiberglass from one of the missile cells on Briscoe. My son, again like his Dad, collects things. When he was shown some of the pieces of the shrouding which protects the missile after the hatch opens, he asked for one, "For my Dad." Pretty cool.

Those particular missiles had been lofted at Saddam Hussein, if you must know. In the opening salvos of Gulf War 2.0. The mustachioed one escaped that volley.

USS Oscar Austin, DDG-79

USS Oscar Austin (DDG-79) is an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer in the United States Navy. The ship is currently part of Carrier Strike Group Ten.

Oscar Austin is named for Private First Class Oscar P. Austin, USMC, a recipient of the Medal of Honor. His mother, Mildred Austin, was the matron of honor at the commissioning. Wikipedia

This ship I visited for work. As part of a project we were on, a retired Navy fellow decided it might be a good idea if the younger crowd actually saw what a real warship looked like. So he arranged a tour...

Your Humble Scribe: "Hey Mark, can I go too?"

Mark, retired Commander: "Why's an old Master Sergeant want to see a ship. You've got kids in the Navy and..."

Your Humble Scribe: "I'll drive some of the young'uns to the pier, I have access to the base."

Mark, retired Commander: "Cool, be here in the morning at 0800."

Your Humble Scribe: "Roger that."

So I had the opportunity to tour an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. It was awesome, especially the Mark 41 missile launchers (if you look aft of the 5-inch mount in the next photo and just forward of the helo deck you can see the Mark 41 launchers, there are two). Those launchers extend three stories from bilge to hatch covers. We got to crawl around inside as there were no missile canisters loaded. Really neat.

 

USS Nitze, DDG-94

USS Nitze (DDG-94) is an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer. She is the only ship of the United States Navy to be named for Paul Nitze, who served as Secretary of the Navy under president Lyndon B. Johnson and as chief arms control adviser in the administration of President Ronald Reagan. Wikipedia

Nitze was my son's last ship, he is a plankowner** and was the ship's navigator (hence his cognomen, The Naviguesser, and yes, he doesn't like that tag. As with callsigns, if you don't like it, it sticks.)

The Missus Herself and I had the honor of being at Nitze's christening up at Bath Iron Works, Secretary Nitze and his wife (and loads of relatives) were all there. As was the Secretary of the Navy at the time, Gordon England, and one of the Maine congressional delegation, Susan Collins. Yes, lots of speechifying, Secretary Nitze (who was in his 90s at the time) fell asleep in his wheelchair. I would have fallen asleep myself except that a cold breeze had begun to blow out on the Kennebec River. A warm spring day in April of '04 (with me in just a sport coat) had begun to get rather cold. Kept me awake it did.

Eleven months later we headed down to Norfolk for Nitze's commissioning ceremony. Secretary Nitze had passed away prior to the event, so the herd of relations was a lot smaller. His widow was present as was a former SECNAV, John F. Lehman, Jr., who was the keynote speaker.

His speech was superb, I wish I had a copy.

As for the commissioning ceremony itself, it was awesome and inspiring. The weather? Horrible. Cold and rain, even saw some snow on that day in March of 2005. Brrrrr!

As invited guests we actually had seats. Which were covered in plastic due to the rain. Everyone pulled their plastic covers off and sat down, huddling under umbrellas. There we sat until the National Anthem began.

You guessed it, now the seats were drenched. Sigh...

Next time I wait until after the National Anthem to sit down.

We did get to go aboard after the ceremony. You know that "new car smell"? New ship smell is just as awesome. The Missus Herself actually managed to send her umbrella down a ladder, fortunately without skewering anyone. Still have haze gray paint on that umbrella.

"Throw it out? Honey, it's a souvenir!"

Yup, I got the "You're an idiot" look.

USS McFaul, DDG-74

USS McFaul (DDG-74) is an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer in the United States Navy. She is named for Chief Petty Officer Donald L. McFaul, a Navy SEAL who was killed in action on 20 December 1989 while serving in Panama. McFaul was awarded a posthumous Navy Cross for attempting to rescue a platoon mate at the cost of his life. Wikipedia

McFaul was the last destroyer I have visited to date. She was The Nuke's first ship. She was the Anti-Submarine Warfare Officer, so she was known as ASWO to the crew. When I visited McFaul for the second time, the crew started calling me "ASWO's Dad," much to The Nuke's chagrin. Yes, I loved it.

Now I mentioned that I had at least two visits to McFaul. Both were at the pier down in Newport, right here in Little Rhody.

The first time I visited McFaul was for work, another tour which Mark arranged and for which I again volunteered to drive and escort. That was pretty cool. Got to see a lot more of her than I did the Oscar Austin.

Now the second (and third, fourth, fifth and sixth) times was also for work. But this time The Nuke was a member of the crew and the ship was in Newport to support one of the Surface Warfare Officer courses at that base. She would be in port for a week and my daughter let me know that I could come visit, maybe bring a friend or two...

Your Humble Scribe: "So Nuke can I bring sixty friends?"

The Nuke: "You're sh!tting me, right?"

Your Humble Scribe: "No, actually I want to bring some of my fellow engineers onto the ship so they can see what one looks like, maybe talk to the crew. Ya know, for work."

The Nuke: "Sigh, alright, I'll see what I can do."

As it turned out, it all came together. Security clearances were checked at both ends (my employer and the ship) and I was able to tour USS McFaul with roughly "sixty of my closest friends." A bunch of the ship's officers were able to tour my work place and see a demo of the project I was working on.

Which leads me to the last destroyer (so far) that I have been associated with.

PCU Zumwalt, DDG-1000

PCU* Zumwalt (DDG-1000) is a guided missile destroyer of the United States Navy. She is the lead ship of the Zumwalt class and the first ship to be named for Admiral Elmo Zumwalt. Zumwalt has stealth capabilities, having a radar cross-section akin to a fishing boat despite her large size. Wikipedia

Those who know a thing or two can probably guess where I work. Now my involvement in that project is starting to wind down and I'll be moving on to other things at my place of work. One thing I have to say about the place I work, it has been interesting and educational.

Though The Nuke accuses me of putting on airs and acting "salty."

What can I say? I love the Navy. As I've said before, they put all three kids through college and provided me interesting work for nigh on 17 years. What's to complain about?

Before I go, The WSO is also associated with a few ships other than Reagan. She did a midshipman cruise on the USS Curts, a frigate out of Sandy Eggo back in the day and her college roommate spent her first sea tour on USS Taylor, another frigate, this one home ported in Norfolk. I was able to tour Taylor when she came to Little Rhody for the Fourth of July. The WSO and her former roomie were both brand new ensigns, they were at the house that day along with a number of their freshly commissioned classmates. The party was epic, epic I tell you. The WSO was very impressed with my beer pong skills. As were all the other newly minted ensigns.

Yeah, like an old Master Sergeant was going to let himself be embarrassed in a drinking game by a bunch of butter bars.

Like I said, the party was epic.

Yup, I love the Navy.

BTW...

Go Navy, Beat Army!

* PCU = Pre Commissioning Unit. A ship does not become a United States Ship (USS) until she has been commissioned. When a ship is commissioned it has been formally accepted into the fleet and is ready for operations.
** A plankowner (also referred to a plank owner and sometimes a plank holder) is an individual who was a member of the crew of a United States Navy ship or United States Coast Guard cutter when that ship was placed in commission.

Bereft

Winslow Homer, The Gulf Stream (1899). - Metropolitan Museum of Art (Source)

bereft - deprived of or lacking something, especially a nonmaterial asset.

• synonyms: deprived of, robbed of, stripped of, devoid of, bankrupt of; wanting, in need of, lacking, without;

Winslow Homer's painting, The Gulf Stream, speaks volumes to me these days.

The seas upon which our nation sails are not calm, storms are brewing, the waves are restless, seething.

The waters abound with danger.

The nation is rudderless, there is no one at the helm. Many of us, like that man upon the deck above, can do no more but carry on, remaining stoic, not despairing of hope.

Though the situation is grim, and believe me it is very grim, there is hope. I truly believe that all is not lost.

Though there are times it seems that way.

We need to soldier on, shoulder our burdens and bear these times as best we can. They will not, they cannot, last forever...

Do not fret because of evildoers
    or be envious of the wicked,
for the evildoer has no future hope,
    and the lamp of the wicked will be snuffed out.

Proverbs 24:19-20

The time of deliverance will come. Resist the evil and the foolishness which is among the people. Resist the stupidity of our so-called "leaders." This current insanity is but a passing thing.

It cannot stand. For if it does, we enter a new and more terrible Dark Age.

Resist the evil.

Resist the stupidity.

Resist...

Francisco Goya, El dos de mayo de 1808 en Madrid  (1814) - Museo del Prado, Madrid. (Source)

Breaking News! Assistance Needed! MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Arlington National Cemetery (Source)

Every year a non-profit organization, Wreaths Across America, decorates graves in Arlington National Cemetery. This year they've fallen short of their fund raising goal. You can read about it here.

To donate, follow the link in the article, or the first one given above.

Thanks!

Update:

Earlier I had mentioned over on Facebook that the deadline was the 1st of December, new information indicates that the deadline is now the 9th of December. They're still short, you can read about that at Breitbart, there's a video as well.

I will keep this post at the top of the blog until the deadline passes or the goal is reached. See below for newer posts. Thanks!

Update II:

Mission accomplished according to Breitbart! God Bless you all!

Tired and Ornery

(Go, read this => Source)

The last of the progeny flew back to California yesterday, taking two of my wee bairns wi' her*. 'Tis tired and ornery I am!

While Thanksgiving week was lots of fun and I got a lot of rest (I was livin' the life of Riley I was, not to repeat myself, though I did) the end of that week and the beginning of the current week really blew away all that rest I had.

For on Sunday we all piled into the The Missus Mobile at oh-dark-thirty and drove the 150+ miles from Chez Sarge back to the Auld Sod, me Mum's house. She had yet to see the newest member of the clan, wee Belle** that she is, and was keen to do so. While she has met Little Bit (the Senior Granddaughter) she was also looking forward to seeing her again.

Oh yeah, she wanted to see The WSO and The Missus Herself as well. Moi aussi, though she had seen me in September and October, I am, after all, the eldest of her sons and live the furthest away. So there's that.

Anyhoo, the plan (such as plans go) was to drive up in the morning and drive back in the gloaming. So we did. While we had a lovely chat, and a nice meal, we did have that whole 150+ return trip. So off we went, arriving back in Little Rhody after sunset. (That would be "evening sunset" in Tuna's parlance.)

Monday it was back to work for me. Stayed up too late, got up too early. Work was work, nothing to write home about, it just is. Life in the cubicle farm. Though it's actually an "open" work area, it feels cubicle-ish. If'n you catch my meaning.

Tuesday was the day to take The WSO and her bairns up to Boston for to fly back to California. Again, an oh-dark-thirty launch, into the teeth of Boston traffic. High up on my no damn fun list. Of course, that's an awfully long list, driving in Boston and its environs is always taxing. Folks up there have a rather cavalier attitude towards traffic laws. It can be dicey at times. But on a Tuesday morn the only danger was being bored to death.

Traffic. Was. That. Slow.

Oh well, we got there in time for The WSO to make her flight and for me to get back to work at a "reasonable" time. (The sun was still up. Somewhere. It rained Tuesday afternoon.)

But when all is said and done, I'm a wee bit shagged after the past cuppla days. So I ain't feeling all that clever or...

Hell, I'm so tired I forgot the word I wanted to use.

Though I'm not a huge Dropkick Murphys fan, I do like this tune. Says "Boston" to me. (Also makes me want to watch The Departed again, for the seventy-lebenth time. By the way, up Boston way that's The Depahted. R's are dropped in words where they appear and added to words that don't have them. So I'm told.)

'Scuse me, I need to go pahk my cah, in the yahd.

*wee bairns = Scots phrase, means little babies
**Belle is the Junior Granddaughter. That's her actual nickname, not a callsign, or blog name, if you will. The Nuke likes calling her Belly, which is cute. I'm not ready to call her that.

Tales From the Line - Who Are Those Guys?

(Photo by Gary Noon Source)

Recently, while perusing one of Shaun's most excellent posts, I was reminded of a story. A couple of stories actually, but one in particular. It happened long, long ago on a cold, blustery day in the Republic of Korea (대한민국, South Korea, ya know, the good guys).

There I was...*

Shortly after the last glaciation period, not long after the last wooly mammoth had plunged into a bog in Siberia (to be preserved therein for centuries), I was an aircraft mechanic, responsible for maintaining the weapons control systems on the mighty F-4D Phantom II aircraft. Affectionately (?) known to her crews as the Rhino (I didn't know this until many moons later) the Phantom was deployed at four bases in the Western Pacific in my day.

Now I know to the youth of today the Phantom has all the relevance of the Sopwith Camel, a great aircraft in its day but long obsolete in these modern times. In my day, she ruled the skies. Osan (in Korea) and Clark (in the Philippines) had the E-model (which had an internal gun), Kunsan (in Korea) and Kadena (Okinawa, part of Japan) had the D-model (no gun). Kadena had the C-model as well, a number of which were Wild Weasels. (Chase that link and learn grasshopper...)

Now during my 8-ish years as a maintainer (six and a half of which were actually around aircraft) I worked on the C and the D-models at Kadena (first) then Kunsan. It is at that latter location where our story unfolds.

It was a brisk day out on the line. Now in Korea we didn't really have a flight line per se. As we were not more than 20 minutes flying time from the evil henchmen of the Kim family, we couldn't just line up the aircraft in neat lines à la Pearl Harbor or Clark Field in 1941. Nope, not a good idea. So our aircraft were dispersed in what we called Whiskey Arches, not sure why, but that's what we called them. The photo below depicts some of those at Hahn AB in Germany, circa 1977.



(Source)

The layout of the shelters in Korea wasn't quite as compact. The next photo is an overhead view of part of Kunsan, my stomping grounds for nearly four years.


Google Maps

Some of the stuff in the photo wasn't there when I was, times change, new things spring up, but to the right of the shelters you can see a lot of green, those are (for the most part) rice paddies. There were a lot of small farm dwellings out there too.

I remember one little home just on the outside of the perimeter fence. There was an older guy who would stand out front and just stare at you while you were outside the arch, taking a break from all that maintaining. (One of the reasons I took up smoking was all the down time waiting for parts, waiting for someone to come pick you up, etc. At Kadena there was no place to smoke on the flightline, in Korea you just stepped outside the arch, where old Korean guys would stare at you. We were advised not to interact with them. Perhaps they were slightly pissed about having an airbase smack dab in the middle of good crop land. After all, an airbase has to be on a flat surface, Korea is a land of very few flat surfaces. People like to eat, crops are easier to grow on flat surfaces, you do the math.)

As you might could tell from the overhead view of the base, there were some pretty isolated aircraft shelters. Far from the beaten path as it were.

Now by this point your head is probably spinning with this talk of Whiskey Arches and maintenance, rice paddies and disgruntled old farmers and just what the Hell does that picture of a pheasant have to do with the price of tea in China, as "they" like to say. Well, let me enlighten you.

Kunsan the base was quite a ways from Kunsan the city. (Overseas the bases tend to get named for places they are near, in the States they generally get named after famous guys.) It was right on the coast and out in the middle of all those paddy fields. Other than the noise of the aircraft at all hours it apparently was a good place for certain types of wildlife to settle down and raise families. Pheasants were one of those kinds of wildlife. The base was crawling with pheasant. (Okay, yes, I'm exaggerating the pheasant population, but if you didn't notice them it's because you weren't paying attention.) Lovely birds they are, I'm told they're also good to eat.

So there I am, taking a break from cannibalizing parts off of a broken Phantom to install on the bird we had in the Radar Calibration barn (wasn't really a barn, it was actually a hangar, we liked to call it a barn, I don't know why, though I have theories...). Sometimes this was necessary, perhaps the jet out on the line had a busted engine, or fuel pump, or some other  magical framistat and couldn't be flown. Whereas the bird in the barn could be, or could be as soon as we (my mates and I) were done aligning, tweaking, and adjusting its radar set and associated other weapony things. Sometimes we found things that were broken, unadjustable or otherwise recalcitrant items which prevented our progress, keeping Mister Flying War Machine in the barn for longer than normal. (Normal was approximately 48 hours.)

So the folks in Job Control would search out an aircraft in a non-flyable state and send us out to take the part we needed to continue our calibrating activities. That's about the only time you'd find Radar Cal guys and gals (we had a couple) out on the flight line in the cold and gloom. We didn't have our own truck so we had to rely on the kindness of strangers. Actually it was usually other weapons control guys and gals who spent their entire miserable lives out on the flightline in the cold and dark. Jealous? No, I don't think they were jealous. Just spiteful. Or something.

So we relied upon them to take us to the aircraft to be violated and returned to the warmth and coziness of our shop. Yeah, they thought it was funny to dump us out there and make us wait for what seemed hours and hours. In the cold and gloom.

So on those occasions, we'd have our part(s) ready to go back to the shop and we'd have to wait. So the smokers of our clan would hie to the back of the arch for to have a cigarette and to be glared at by disgruntled old Korean farmers. One day I was out there. It was cold, but it was dry. As I settled in, I lit my cigarette and got comfortable, or as comfortable as one could get leaning against steel-reinforced concrete on a cold Korean afternoon.

As I took my first puff, to what should my wondering eyes should appear was two guys behind the next arch, apparently sneaking up on something. Two guys carrying firearms and wearing caps much like the manikin in the next photo (on the left, don't mind the glare.)
 

Korean War Uniform (Wolcott photo Source)

If you look real close (or chase the source link) you might note that those are "the bad guys," North Koreans. That winter hat with the ear flaps is something I've always associated with two things: hunting in New England and Communist infantry in the winter. The former I like, the latter, not so much.

So I drop my smoke and crush it beneath my boot heel (no little irony there) and watch these two armed and suspicious individuals creeping up on my position. I am sort of blending in with the aircraft shelter in my olive drab fatigue uniform so they haven't seen me yet. They seem to be focusing on the perimeter fence, which is not that far from me.

Needless to say, I'm a bit concerned. These two fellows are carrying weapons, I have a cigarette lighter and a pencil. No doubt if I were MacGyver I could have quickly built something with which to incapacitate these two nefarious fellows using nothing more than the pencil, the lighter and perhaps some pocket lint. But MacGyver I was not then and am not now. So I used "rabbit technique," that is I froze in position and hoped they wouldn't notice me.

As I sat there, all deer in the headlights-like, I noted that one guy was Caucasian, the other Asian. First thought, "Dammit, one of 'em's a Rooskie! Commie bastards are ganging up on us." Second thought, gee that "Russian" kind of looks familiar...

Then it strikes me, as a pheasant breaks from cover off to my left and I see two shotguns swing in that direction, that's the base commander, er, commanders. The American one and the Korean one. After all, we two staunch allies share the base, the Koreans own it but they let us play there too.

Apparently the two officers shared a love of hunting. Hunting pheasants that is.

Well, long(-ish) story short, they didn't bag the pheasant. What's more, they didn't bag the staff sergeant huddled by the Whiskey Arch using rabbit technique to not get noticed. My rabbit fu was strong that day. The two hunters reversed direction and they never noticed me.

But yeah, when you're way out there on the edge of the empire and you see armed men wearing winter caps with ear flaps, you see Commies, not hunters.

Well, I do, don't know how you might have seen that. Then again, sometimes when I hear hoof beats I think "zebras," not "horses." Yup, over active imagination, that's me. It can be entertaining at times.

Other times? Not so much.







*SJC