Though my orders were to Adak, I was required to visit the Naval Security Group Command (NAVSECGRUCOM) 40 Department on Nebraska Avenue in Washington, DC, prior to departing for Adak. I had to go twice.

I spent nearly two hours in the morning and again in the afternoon traveling between FT Meade and NAVSECGRUCOM. I dreaded the thought of an assignment here and facing the daily drive.

While visiting, I learned a lieutenant in the 40 Department met the requirements to go to Adak, but his department head prevented it. So, the detailer went down the list to me… short-touring me. The typical tour at NSA was three years for enlisted and for officers. I was completing two years there as an officer, so being given orders now met the definition of a short tour.

The 40 Department Staff briefed me that I would fly to Adak, relieve the Electronic Material Officer (EMO), and then report to Naval Security Group Activity, Skaggs Island, California, to attend an (EMO) conference. I had to report in early October to meet this requirement.

I flew to Elmendorf, Alaska, where I changed to a Reeve Aleutian Airlines plane. Reeve served many locations in Alaska and was known for their bush pilots. The flight landed in Adak in the early afternoon. The lieutenant I was relieving met me, and we spent the rest of the day touring the base, meeting the Commanding Officer, and discussing other job-related things.

The next flight from Adak took me to Elmendorf, where I transferred to a flight to San Francisco, California. There, I rented a car at the airport and drove to the Skaggs Island site to attend the EMO conference.

Before I left home for Adak, Lori and I planned for her to join me in California. While I met with my counterparts at the conference, she toured Napa Valley wineries with some of her cousins and did other things I don’t remember. One day near the end of the conference, Lori and I visited San Francisco, saw the sights, and rode the cable cars. The conference finished, and Lori headed home while I returned to Adak.

Back on the island, I began learning about my department. A Senior Chief Petty Officer (SCPO) ran the office, assisted by Petty Officer (PO) Third Class from the Administrative Department. The department had three divisions, two led by Chief Petty Officers (CPO) and one by a PO First Class. I had fifty-five men and women out of sixty-three billets. Later in the tour, I found that eighty-seven percent of manning caused a problem later in the tour.

When I took over the department, there were qualified technicians working days and staffed the watch sections. Things remained stable until eight of the female Petty Officers became pregnant. Medical gave them limited duty “chits.” There were limits on what they could lift, how long they could stand, and what hours they could work. This disrupted watch section personnel assignments and made allowing leave or days off a problem. It required some innovative personnel assignments, but we met the women’s and operation’s needs.

Being on an unaccompanied tour, they assigned me a room in the Bachelor Officer Quarters (BOQ). I settled into my room, unpacking and setting up my Amiga computer, which I used to play games and write programs with the C and FORTRAN language compilers I brought. What programs I wrote are a mystery (time dulls the memory), but it kept me from complete boredom.

Anyone who read the previous sections knows I have never been away from the family for long. The longest was on transfers. I went first to Iceland, Pensacola, and Panama. In each case, Lori came after I had housing for the family.

Though intended to be eighteen consecutive months apart, it turned out there was a project that had me return to Washington, DC, several times, and I could combine them with leave. The first meeting was in December 1987, and I took leave injunction and was home for Christmas. Over the eighteen months, I got three free trips home, making life easier for the family and me.

The major military construction project moved operations from the Zeto Point building to a mountain slope site. The meetings I mentioned were to coordinate between the site and NAVSECGRUCOM. An operations officer and I, representing the site, gave the status of our preparations for the move, and our hosts told us about their preparations.

The preparations made on and off the island resulted in a smooth transition to the new location. The weather cooperated with low-velocity winds when we moved the antennas and their large antenna domes. Their move was one thing we were most concerned about. The rest of the equipment de-installation and subsequent reinstallation went smoothly. The operations and management staff received letters of commendation for completing the move and returning to operations thirty days earlier than planned. Unfortunately, we found out later that we missed an important item.

A heavy rain kept me in my room until I got a frantic call from the Classic Wizard division officer. She called to tell me that my technicians were powering down the equipment and shutting off power to the building. There were inches of water under the raised flooring the equipment sat on, and a danger of reaching the underfloor power distribution boxes.

We had installed the antennas on the mountainside above the building and the cable antenna team placed the cables from the antennas into trenches and ducting. Our public works dug the trenches directly to the building, creating a sluice for the rainwater to reach and enter the building. Our public works department took several days to create a breakwater and dig trenches to redirect water away from the building. While they worked, we pumped out the flood water. It took several days to get back in operation.

My first interaction with my Commanding Officer (CO), a Navy captain, came a few days after I returned from the EMO conference. He visited each department for a weekly brief. I was touring the building when my administrative assistant found me and told me the CO was waiting in my office. I was late for an appointment with the CO.

So I returned to my office and apologized for not being there when he arrived. I settled and asked how I could help him. The Captain reminded me I should read the Plan of the Week, and I would know when he would visit. I remained outwardly calm, but I suspect my face was red. Inside, my stomach was roiling, full of all manner of insects.

Unprepared to brief my department’s status, I asked for a moment. I used that moment to bring my Department Senior Chief into the office and directed him to brief the CO. I learned the status of my department as he informed the Captain.

Before the CO left, he complimented me for not trying to bluff my way through. His last comment was to tell me this was my department, and I was to run it as I saw fit. The only proviso was operations must be our primary focus.

The Captain never came to my office for another briefing. Apparently, he was happy with how I ran the department and never felt a need to.

My first staff meeting was fun for me. I brought in the department SCPO, and the CPOs in charge of three divisions. Each of them briefed the happenings in their division related to personnel and equipment status. After they finished, I watched them as I told them how I intended to run the department.

I am not a micromanager. I told the division CPOs that they ran their divisions. They would ensure their people did their best to keep equipment running and operations happy. Then, I floored them when I said they had the authority to grant time off to their personnel, even to grant three-day passes. I saw the confusion on several faces before the department SCPO questioned his hearing.

It seemed only my predecessor could grant time off. I told them to manage their personnel, their schedules, and their personnel’s time off. Don’t abuse it, and they will continue to have this authority.

Some things that happened tested my confidence, making me wonder if I should have retired instead of taking the commission.

Lord knows I am basically a people person. I avoided real personnel issues during my enlisted time for over nineteen years. The officers above me dealt with them except when I was department head in Panama, I had no personnel issues there. Now, I was the officer who had to deal with personnel issues.

I was on Adak for less than two weeks when someone knocked, waking me. The visitor was a security person asking me to come to the quarterdeck. There, I learned from the duty officer that one of my female Third Class Petty Officers (PO) attempted suicide.

She had walked into the lagoon, intending to drown. The medical staff took her to the hospital for evaluation before sending her to Elmendorf. I never met the woman and never got a replacement to fill the vacancy she caused.

The Classic Wizard CPO came one day with a personnel issue he couldn’t solve. Much like when I was a CPO, he wanted the officer, me, to handle it. The problem was a Second Class Petty Officer with orders to Japan who refused to be tested for HIV. In 1988, the Navy required the test for one to serve in Japan. The PO claimed a religious exemption, but only for this test. He accepted other vaccinations and blood tests without complaint.

I directed the CPO to order the PO to have the test, and if he refused to “write him up” for refusing a direct order. So, the stubborn PO faced Captain’s Mast for refusing the order. As his Department Head, I counseled him to ensure he understood the ramifications of refusing the test. After that interview, I provided the Captain with my recommendation for punishment fitting for the offense. Thankfully, the PO changed his mind and took the HIV test, and he avoided Captain’s Mast.

Another time, the officer in charge of the command security department notified me base security had arrested one of my POs on a driving under the influence (DUI) charge. Well, my CO had no tolerance for anyone DUI. Those caught faced a Captain’s Mast and punishments, including a reduction in rank and a hefty fine.

I faced a dilemma. The PO was going to Captain’s Mast, and I had to provide a recommendation for punishment. What should I recommend?

The man was a third-class PO who had taken the promotion exam and was waiting for the results. He would receive orders to a base in Puerto Rico near his home if he passed the test and was selected for promotion.

The investigator’s report said he drove himself and some friends to the club on the main base. One of his friends was the designated driver who would drive his car back to the barracks. However, the designated driver and other friends found another ride back, leaving the PO several miles from the barracks with a car he shouldn’t drive. Prudence said don’t drive, but he did, and Military Police pulled him over. He received a ticket for driving under the influence of alcohol. The report also reported that the PO attended college classes twice weekly and drove to class.

I asked the man’s division officer for his thoughts. He spoke highly of the PO, calling him one of his best technicians. I checked, and the man’s evaluations reflected his professionalism and technical ability.

So, I debated what to recommend in my input to the Captain’s Mast. If the man suffered a reduction in rank, it would cost him the orders home. Restriction to barracks would prevent him from attending classes, while the loss of pay would hurt.

Finally, after much soul-searching, I sent my recommendation to the Captain and worried about what the Captain would think of it.

At the Captain’s Mast, the PO received a lecture outlining the Captain’s feelings about DUI and the punishments he gave to others. Then, the Captain told the man my firm support for the defendant as the reason the man received the punishments he did now.

He didn’t reduce his rate but took one-half month’s pay for two months. The CO also restricted him to barracks for thirty days, but allowed the man to drive to college classes. I felt pride when I realized the captain had accepted my recommendations. This saga ended when the man was promoted and received orders to Puerto Rico.

Adak is an island in the Aleutians. Besides a military base, half the island was, and still is, an animal refuge.

The Navy stationed a squadron of P-3 Orion aircraft on the island, which conducted anti-submarine patrols in nearby and further waters. The immediate area around the only airport on the island contained housing for dependents, barracks for the unaccompanied, the officer and enlisted clubs, the Navy Exchange, a personnel office, and other facilities making up a Naval Air Facility.

I lived in the Bachelor Officers Quarters (BOQ) “downtown,” which referred to the Air Facilities area. My transportation on the island was a red Cherokee that I shipped from home. The four-wheel capability proved helpful after each snowfall. I remember getting stuck only once at the operations building. I pulled through a pile of snow covering my parking place. When I went to leave, I learned I couldn’t. Unfortunately, the Jeep was on a patch of ice, and the snowbank slightly lifted the Jeep, taking away the traction needed to pull itself off the snowbank. Thankfully, it was watch change, and several enlisted sailors helped push me out.

Coming from the BOQ, I had to go up a steep hill to get to work. It wasn’t usually a problem, but occasionally, it became snow and ice-covered. Then, there was an agreed-upon process the commuters used. We would line up a safe distance from the bottom of the hill and let one vehicle attempt climbing the hill. Four-wheel and all-wheel vehicles often made it by going slowly in low gear. My jeep always made the hill, LOL, but many other cars ended up parked out of the way at the bottom of the hill, and their driver caught a ride to work.

The time came to transfer, and I had to arrange the shipment of my car and personal effects. I neared an intersection after a recent storm and found the Jeep skidded on the ice when I braked. Complicating things, there was a car coming on the crossroad. I feared not stopping in time and that we would collide. I had nothing to lose, so I stopped trying to brake. To my surprise, the Jeep gained traction, and I steered behind the car as it crossed in front of me. I had avoided the accident and later scheduled the shipments.

Bowling and working on my computer were my primary entertainment. I joined a league for a night out. Usually, when not making unscheduled evening or night visits to my work centers, I worked on developing a program to keep bowling stats.

My department had a cabin for social events. The division officers could reserve it for parties or cookouts. Whenever one scheduled such, I felt obligated to stop in for “morale” purposes. I routinely stayed only long enough to have my favorite drink, Coca-Cola. Leaving kept me from seeing things that were better not seen by a department head.

An interesting fact about Adak is the number of eagles there. There was rarely a time when there weren’t several around the dumpsters behind the barracks and mess hall. Too often, they found something to scavenge from bags left outside the dumpsters.

I haven’t mentioned the fishing. The Morale Welfare and Recreation (MWR) department had an ocean-going boat and scheduled deep-water fishing trips. Several of my sailors went on fishing trips and returned with their catch, usually cod fish. The catch was such that we had a department fish fry at the cabin. I have to admit that I stuffed myself with beer-battered fish every chance I got.

There was more fishing during the salmon run each year. People, even those who didn’t fish, would go to the river to watch the salmon struggling upriver. We heard, “Did you see that?” when an eagle snatched a salmon from the river and flew off with it. I am not a salmon lover and never attended a department salmon party.

Previously, I mentioned the EMO conference in California, but I failed to relate how attending the conference led to my next assignment.

One instructor working for me when I was a course manager in Pensacola, Florida, was at the conference. She was also a Chief Warrant Officer and had orders to Naval Security Group Activity, Potomac.

I had just learned from the detailer who was also there that my next assignment was to the 40 Department at NAVSECGRUCOM. I wasn’t happy about these orders because of the travel time to and from my home.

The Chief Warrant approached me one day and asked if I would be interested in exchanging orders. She wanted to serve with her husband at NAVSECGRUCOM. I saw the benefit to them and had no reason for refusing, and the detailer changed our orders as we requested.

NAVSECGRUACT, Potomac, was on the Naval Research Laboratory campus. The drive to it was easier and quicker than the one to headquarters, so I made out. I will relate other benefits gained by exchanging orders.

March 1989 came, and I boarded the “Freedom Flight,” so called because I was leaving the island for the last time. The flight included a stop on Shemya Island before continuing to Elmendorf. Shemya Island is farther from mainland Alaska and closer to Russia than Adak.

I sat in the first row, directly across from the stewardess, on takeoff and landing. Nearing Shemya, the stewardess took her seat as we prepared to land. Then, the co-pilot leaned out and told her the weather on Shemya was low ceiling with crosswinds and the runway was icy. He finished by telling her we would still land.

I am not a great fan of flying and hearing this didn’t increase my appreciation for it. Well, my writing this shows I, we, survived the landing. I will say the pilots showed great skill as they turned the plane into the crosswind as we touched down and slowed while keeping us on the icy landing strip. Most impressive was we stopped next to the terminal. Landing in these conditions was likely one reason Reeve hired bush pilots.

I would prefer to tell that the rest of the trip home was without incident, but can’t. We arrived in Elmendorf, and I went to make my connection only to learn they had canceled the flight because no planes had arrived from the States. The weather had closed several airports in Washington State and Illinois. My “freedom flight” flew, but I was still stuck in Alaska for a day or so.

My plane finally arrived, and I left Alaska, never to return. So, the next segment of my life experience was at the Naval Security Group Activity, Potomac, Washington, District of Columbia.

We are home. We are Lori, Dwane “DJ,” Tiffany “Tiff,” and me. Our home is 8107B Falconer Court on FT Meade.

Sporting khakis and new collar insignia, and with great anxiety, I report to my work location in Airport Square 11.

The plans for the two computer labs on the first floor proceeded while I was gone. The NSA contractors had almost completed the under-raised floor power installation. While they were finishing the power, raised floor, and air handler installations, I completed the plan for installing the computer systems.

Finally, the day came when the preps were complete, and I moved into my office in the secure computer room. They included an office for the system administrators and me in the room preparations.

A week or two later, a Navy Petty Officer reported as one of my lab assistants. Eventually, I would have a staff that included Navy, Army, and Air Force enlisted operators.

It took months to install the computer systems and the communication fibers from my lab to the researchers on the third floor. Finally, we began the daily operations. The operators performed routine maintenance and supported the network linked to other secure NSA computers.

One day, I received word that someone had penetrated (accessed, broken into) another NSA computer system from one of mine. It was an unauthorized entry, a violation of the law. It took a few days before my staff and I identified who had used my system to break into the other.

My supervisor notified NSA security, and they took the individual into custody. It was one of our researchers. He was released a few days later after confirming he was authorized to perform penetration testing of other NSA secure systems. He had only failed to notify the other systems administration of his plans. Still, my staff and I were given a letter of commendation for our work in finding the intruder.

Most of our work was mundane. We ensured the computers were online and available to the researchers through the ethernet network. We monitored the logs for any unauthorized system access, as happened with the system I previously mentioned.

One of our regular tasks was changing system passwords. We notified the researchers when we changed them. The researchers needed them to access the computers in support of their work. They were developing procedures and ways to keep computers secure.

Often, after changing passwords, we would notice in the logs that a researcher had logged into their account on a system, though we had not given them the new password. In other words, Some of them were proficient at successfully penetrating computer systems. We wouldn’t call security when noting such a thing because this was one of their authorized tasks, leading to improving computer security.

I also helped design the unclassified computer laboratory. It contained a computer system that supported dial-in connections. It allowed authorized persons to call one of several telephone numbers and access the computer using a username and password. Remember, this was when the modem speeds were 300 bits-per-second (baud), not megabits-per-second. several

I enrolled in a C computer language course requiring me to write a program outside my daily duties. I had the Atari computer I bought before going to Panama. After researching, I located a communication (comms) program to interface my computer with a modem NSA loaned me. The program translated the letters I typed into a code to be sent by the modem through phone lines to the receiving modem and computer.

I would start my computer and start the comms program. It initiated the phone call and negotiated a link with a comms program on the unclassified NSA computer. Then, I logged in with my username and password. Still, I hadn’t reached the resources needed to write the program.

The internet was yet to be a reality. However, the government created a network called ARPAnet. The acronym comes from “Advanced Research Projects Agency Network.” ARPAnet linked government facilities and multiple universities. It was the predecessor to the INTERNET.

After connecting to NSA’s computer, I used ARPAnet to connect to a computer at MIT-Massachusetts Institute of Technology. The MIT computer had the resources to create and test the program I developed.

During the last days of the course, I used a punchcard machine to create a deck of punch cards with my code. Then, I ran the cards through a reader to load my program onto an NSA computer. My program stored names, addresses, and phone numbers alphabetically. The program inserted new entries in their proper place. My program performed as designed. I had passed the course and got to keep the modem until the end of my tour at NSA.

The National Computer Security Center (NSA C3 group) was fully functional, and both labs were functioning. It was time to show off the organization with an open house.

I don’t know what went into organizing it, but my part was to showcase my lab. Someone else would host the unclassified laboratory capabilities. So, my staff pulled a field day, cleaned, dusted, etc., and got the room and system in pristine condition.

I gave tours of the computer room when the day came. I identified each computer system and told how researchers used them for an Undersecretary of Defense, several company CEOs, and other dignitaries.

The after-event was disappointing. Shortly after, the C3 director held an awards ceremony to give out those for the open house. Several government people received a monetary (cash) award. Those in the military received a letter of appreciation because we couldn’t accept money. It was the law I heard. I need not say my staff and I were frustrated and a bit angry. It was stupid, in our opinion.

My son, DJ, joined the Boy Scouts. One weekend, we went to an overnight campout at FT Meade. I chatted with other fathers as we sat around the campfire. I didn’t know how this campout would affect my life at the time.

I neared two years in C3 as a Chief Warrant Officer. I needed to complete three years as a W2 to satisfy the obligation for taking a commission. I could submit a request to retire on 1 August 1987, a year before my three-year obligation ended.

I had spoken with my manager at C3 about a position as a civilian after I retired in a year. He said I likely could fill the same role I had as the classified lab manager. I became excited about the prospect and began considering what changes it would bring.

We would have to relocate from the quarters on Falconer Court to an off-base house. Our children might have to go to different schools, depending on the location of our new home.

Then, life turned upside down, and my plans were disrupted on 17 July. The command received word that the Navy was short-touring me to Adak, Alaska. My tour at FT Meade should have been three years, but I would transfer after two. It was fourteen days before I could submit retirement papers. I had two choices: refuse the orders or go to Adak. I elected Adak.

Lori and I decided that I would do an unaccompanied tour to Adak. She and the children would stay in quarters on FT Meade until I returned. It would be less disruptive for the family since my assignment officer promised I would return to the NSA after Adak. Not all promises are kept.

I learned the command on Adak needed an Electronics Maintenance Officer to replace the departing officer in October. I popped to the top of the replacement list because the Executive Officer at Naval Security Group Activity, Adak, Alaska, knew me from a Boy Scout campout. He had specifically requested me for the assignment.

October came. I boarded the flight, which led to my new command after hugs, kisses, and tears.

Lori and I arrived In Pensacola with the children so I could attend the Limited Duty Officer/Chief Warrant Officer (LDO/CWO) Academy. She and the children stayed with friends and family while I lived in the barracks assigned to course attendees. Later, they went to Corpus Christi to stay with her mother until I finished the course.

I admit to some pride in my new position and uniform, though some trepidation also. I was now an officer in the United States Navy and a leader of men.

It’s funny how my perspective changed with the uniform. For nearly nineteen years, eight as a Chief Petty Officer, I had led and molded my subordinates, yet rarely thought of it that way. How naïve I felt.

Through those years, I spouted the Chief as the backbone of the Navy. I believed it then and still did, yet I was now a Chief Warrant Officer. A former backbone of the Navy just moved higher on the technical leadership ladder.

A Navy warrant officer comes from a rating where they have reached the E-7 or higher level. The warrant has mastered his specialty and demonstrated leadership skills sufficient to be a Chief Petty Officer. Now, the Chief Petty Officer faces the LDO/CWO selection board.

The candidate seeking the commission applies to the LDO/Chief Warrant Officer board. The application follows a template that details a picture of the candidate’s Naval service. There are pictures in uniform and a history of duty assignments, education, and off-duty activities. The candidate can include a letter giving his reason for seeking the commission. The candidate provides the package to his chain of command, and their local commander can endorse it.

The selection board reviews the packages and forwards a qualified list of selectees to the Secretary of the Navy. The list moves through a process resulting in the selectee receiving a presidential commission.

The selection board suggests an order to commission the selectees as part of the process. I was in the last group commissioned by the 1984 board. Regardless, here I was in Pensacola and a Chief Warrant Officer 2.

Break: I was now a Mustang. A Mustang officer is not a temporary or brevet promotion but is a commissioned officer that receives more pay according to their rank of O1-E, O2-E, etc., but (has) command responsibilities as all other commissioned officers. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustang_(military_officer))

The Limited Duty Officer/Chief Warrant Officer (LDO/CWO) Academy is commonly called Knife and Fork School. Though social/military etiquette elements exist, they cram much more into four weeks.

I remember a module on the history of warrant and LDO programs. Then, one required each of us to give a short talk evaluated by the others. We marched and learned to direct a marching group. There was physical training, and one had to pass the PT test before graduating. We learned sword etiquette, though warrant officers were not required to buy one. And speaking of etiquette, we learned how to prepare a table for a wardroom dinner and set the seating arrangement. It was the knife and fork part of the course.

Lori and the children were with her mother in Corpus Christi while I learned the nuances of being a warrant officer. My school moved along quite well until Hurricane Elena interrupted it. My memory of that event was staying in the barrack stairwell while the storm raged. The next day, I learned that the storm had produced tornadoes that damaged several hangers. Fortunately, the barracks and school buildings were undamaged.

Finally, the day came to leave for my next duty station. I was to return to FT Meade after picking up Lori, DJ, and Tiffany en route to our place on Falconer Court, FT Meade, MD.

We returned to the home where we lived the last months of my enlisted career and would occupy to start my life as a commissioned officer.

I was not enamored with my transfer to the Washington, DC area. I knew it was the hub of politics and more expensive than other duty stations.

When I checked into the command, I learned that though assigned to NSGA, FT Meade, I would work within one of the NSA Groups. The command assignment officer assigned most enlisted to groups doing direct support. A senior Chief Petty Officer Cryptologic Maintenance Technician and Navy enlisted code for AN/UYK-3 would mark me as an anomaly in a direct support organization.

The assignment officer had other plans for me. He had called me in Panama and asked if he could experiment with my assignment. I continued to agree, and he selected several NSA groups for me to interview with. He wanted one to ask for me.

I remember having several interviews that described jobs I thought would lead to boredom. It wasn’t until I interviewed with a C-Group GS-15 that I felt I found a job that would be challenging and rewarding.

C-Group was also the National Computer Security Center (NCSC), recently established under President Reagan’s direction. I interviewed in an office in OPS 1, but he told me the organization was moving to Airport Square 11 shortly.

I would not be directly working for the GS-15. As the only enlisted in my group, C-3,  I would report to an Air Force Major, though my task remained the same.

I would create two new computer laboratories in the new building. One was for classified computer systems, and the other was for unclassified computers. Part of the challenge was identifying the power and air conditioning requirements for the group’s computers and those they intended to procure soon. Without saying, I became excited with the prospect and committed to the position.

I had the list of equipment owned by the group and began creating the power and air conditioning requirements. Then, I received a list of known future systems that required modifying the requirements. We gave NSA Public Works my list, and they provided a schedule for completing the work.

While Public Works installed the power busses under a raised floor, I created the layout for the computer systems. I also designed the offices that the computer staff would use. Finally, I worked with the NSA on the communications interfaces.

The classified computers would be available via network connections to the computer scientists working on the second and third floors. The unclassified computers are connected to a phone bank, allowing people to call and connect. With plans firmed and work underway, it was August and time for me to leave for Pensacola. More on this later.

I came to NSGA FT Meade unaccompanied. Lori and the children stayed with her parents while I waited for housing. It would become fascinating.

I arrived at the command as a Chief Petty Officer (CPO E-7.) I was placed on the housing list reflecting this. Then, word came of my selection to Warrant Officer with promotion on August 1, 1985. The housing office staff were now in a quandary.

Should they assign me a house based on my current rank of E-7 or one for a junior officer? I would barely settle into the first before they would move me to the latter. I petitioned for the latter, not wanting to move twice, and they placed me on the junior officer housing list.

I took leave at Christmas time and drove to Texas to bring the family to Maryland to stay with friends from Panama until the quarters were ready. It allowed DJ and Tiffany to start school in January.

We moved into quarters in junior officer housing. We were the only enlisted family in this group of quarters. Most of our neighbors accepted us without reservation. However, another was upset with the presence of an “enlisted” living in officer territory. Lori and I ignored them and basked in the acceptance of the others. We settled into life at FT Meade, and the days passed.

It was 1985. The president had commissioned all Navy Chief Warrant Officers 2- 4 for many years. However, the Secretary of the Army gave Army warrant officers warrants. It created issues since a presidential commissioned warrant would be senior to a warranted officer regardless of service branch. In 1986, the laws changed so that all warrants, regardless of service branch, were commissioned as they created an additional warrant rank, Chief Warrant Officer 5’s.

The detailer responsible for junior officer assignments contacted me. He wanted my assignment preferences once commissioned as a Chief Warrant Officer 2. I stated I wanted to remain in my present position.

The Navy’s policy was to relocate individuals when newly commissioned. The reason was the person commissioned would now be senior to those they had worked for. The person taking orders would now be giving them. This situation could cause issues for the new officer and their now subordinates.

I, and the command assignment officer, assured the Navy detailer that there would not be this problem for me. I was the only enlisted member in the entire C-Group at that time. Also, the C-3 director submitted a by-name request for me to return. Considering these inputs, the detailer agreed I would return to my position after completing the US Navy’s Limited Duty Officer (LDO)/Chief Warrant Officer Indoctrination Course (CWO) in Pensacola, Florida.

My commissioning ceremony to Chief Warrant Officer 2 was on August 1, 1985. My wife, children, and several of my neighbors witnessed the ceremony.

The car packed, and we set off on another adventure.

My next assignment as a Chief Petty Officer (CPO) was to Galeta Island as the Electronics Material Officer (EMO.) It was my first tour as Department Head. The department performed preventative and corrective maintenance on the High-Frequency Direction Finder equipment and other systems.

The command structure placed department heads behind the commanding and executive officers at the third level. Although a CPO, my authority within my department was comparable to that of the Operations Department’s lieutenant.

A CPO assisted me in running the department, and a Petty Officer First Class (First Class) managed each shop. For the life of the tour, the shop supporting the communication equipment gave me the most headaches.

The department’s most senior and technically knowledgeable first-class was the manager for the Comms shop. I regularly counseled him to allow his subordinates to tackle the more complex problems with the comm’s equipment. He too often stepped in and performed the troubleshooting and repair himself instead of using the opportunity to train his crew. Though he had high marks as a technician, those for his leadership suffered some. Writing his evaluations was one of my hardest things on this tour.

A technician surprised me one day by telling me he found my name inside the AN/UYK-3 computer cover. He was doing maintenance and noticed my name listed on the cover. It was the computer I struggled to keep operational while in Iceland. Apparently, it preferred the warmth of Panama to the cold of Iceland, for it gave the technicians no problems.

Though my department was responsible for maintaining the electronic systems, the commanding officer sought my technicians for other tasks. One such task was laying concertina wire around the command’s perimeter. I didn’t think this was an appropriate use of my staff, but we did the task with proficiency and efficiency.

I learned the command had a computer and printer. No one used it because of a lack of software. I remedied this by writing a program to maintain the inventory for the supply department. I also incorporated a way for the department to produce orders for replacements automatically. They used it for maybe a week before giving up on it. It seemed they felt the old methods were more productive—a time before computers became common.

My affinity for computers drove me to request permission to bring the computer system to my office. I used the word processor to write correspondence at first. Then, I wrote a program that I used to submit personnel evaluations. Printing the submission and sending it up the chain of command was easy. Then, it was easy to revise with the changes sent back to me. Before long, I lost the computer to the administrative department after they saw how beneficial it was to me. I would have been upset losing it if Naval Security Group Command (headquarters) hadn’t sent me a more modern computer for my department’s use.

Galeta Island is off the Atlantic side of Panama, near Colon, Panama. The command occupied an area near the ocean, with its private beach.

Besides EMO, I was the Emergency Response Officer. The command agreed with the School of America to send an emergency reaction force (army special forces) if we were attacked. Our location near the water created multiple vulnerabilities.

The command conducted an emergency drill one evening. I was notified at home and drove out to the operations building. A Marine sentry stopped me at the entry gate. I learned later that while I waited, a marine on the roof had his loaded rifle pointed at me. Finally, the sentry allowed me into the compound after verifying my identity. Thankfully, the rooftop marine didn’t have an itchy trigger finger.

The command’s housing was in Coco Solo. NSGA Galeta Island suffered a drawdown of mission and personnel due to Fiscal Year 1974 budget constraints. But by the time I arrived, it was having a rebirth in mission assignments and gaining personnel.

Our assigned quarters were a three-bedroom, first-floor apartment in a four-apartment building. We had parking for our car below the apartment. The unit had a windowed room running the apartment length and facing the bay. We could stand or sit here and watch ships waiting to transit the Panama Canal.

There was a seawall in front of our quarters. There was a small beach on the other side suitable for fishing. We sometimes let our six-year-old son, DJ, fish from it.

Lori and I were in the house with Tiffany when DJ was fishing. Suddenly, he began screaming. The first thought I had was DJ had hooked himself. Lori and I rushed to his aid to find he had caught a barracuda. He was hysterical because it tried pulling itself up the line toward the pole, or so it seemed. DJ refused to let us throw it back. It was his first catch. So, it was wrapped and placed in the freezer until we got rid of it without him knowing.

One of our friends liked to fish and often went to Gatun Lake in the early morning. He learned Lori wanted to fish and that I didn’t. He invited her to go with him. The exciting thing about Gatun Lake, at least in those days, was the abundance of fish. They always brought many back. They said the fish practically jumped into the boat.

I mentioned our apartment had a room that ran its length. It was about ten feet wide and had a tile floor. There was an open area that the kids played in, often running.

One day. Clair, our maid, called Lori and told her Tiffany was hurt. DJ pushed her on a riding toy into a television stand. She cut her eyebrow deeply. Lori called and told me they were going to the emergency room. I met them there and held Tiffany while she cried as they stitched the cut. I likely cried as much as she did this time.

Another time, Tiffany wanted an apple peeled. She took a case knife with a small serrated area found with most cutlery sets and jabbed the apple. The blade pierced the apple but also her finger. It bled profusely. Again, I held her while she cried as they stitched her finger.

My commanding officer selected Lori to be the command ombudsman. She represented the command on several committees, including commissary. He also hired Lori to work in public works.

Her position with public works proved valuable on Thanksgiving Day when power to Coco Solo housing failed. I was cooking our turkey on a Weber kettle grill. Our neighbors and the mess hall used electric stoves but now had no power. Our dinner continued to cook, but many others waited for power to return.

Lori contacted the Army public works about the problem and its impacts on our neighbors and coworkers. When she reminded them that she was the wife of Chief Knott, they showed more concern. Soon, they restored power, and everyone had a great Thanksgiving dinner. Our Weber turkey proved delicious.

Lori got the quick response because the listener thought she was an officer’s wife. The Army calls a Chief Warrant Officer (CWO) “Chief.” The Navy uses it for Chief Petty Officer (CPO.) The CWO is a junior officer, and the CPO is an enlisted member.

The command received word that the USS Iowa would transit the Panama Canal from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific. I was one of several command members permitted to board the USS Iowa before it entered the first lock and remained on board until it reached Rodman Naval Station.

Besides being on a Navy battleship, a highlight of the trip was conversations with the crew. The Navy mothballed the USS Iowa in Philadephia in 1958. She was returned to service early in 1984. The issue was finding sailors familiar with a battleship’s gunnery and other aspects. So, the Navy found battleship sailors willing to return to service. I chatted with several of them during the transit. It was the closest I came to being on a Navy warship underway.

I learned that one of the locks was undergoing maintenance. Several of us were lowered forty feet into the lock by a crane. We went into the tunnels used to move water between locks and viewed the massive gates. We also learned that water is not pumped between locks but uses the principle that water reaches its level. After the tour, we reentered the cage and returned to the top of the lock.

My commanding officer pushed me to apply for the Chief Warrant Officer program. I had previously applied for the Limited Duty Officer program without success. I doubted I would be successful, but I already had most of the required documents, so I completed the application. Part of the command process was an interview board. Two warrant officers and my executive officer queried me and then made comments that accompanied my submission. Of those submissions, they ranked me first of three. However, the selection board’s decision would not be released before I transferred.

My orders came to NSA FT Meade, Maryland. It wasn’t my first choice, but then I hadn’t had any success getting my first choices since leaving school in 1967.

Lori and I decided she would take the kids and leave Panama in the late summer. She would stay with her family until I arranged quarters at FT Meade. DJ would attend school in Texas while waiting. Otherwise, waiting until October to move would mean breaking up his schooling, partly in Panama and partly in Maryland.

I received a call from FT Meade shortly after getting orders. It was the command’s executive officer during my first year in Panama. Now, he was at FT Meade and responsible for placing Navy members into NSA departments. He wondered if I would like to become an experiment for him. It seemed some departments were reluctant to accept Navy enlisted. I said I would go wherever he wanted me. There will be more on the experiment results in the section of my time at NSA.

The day came, and I was on another flight, leaving one duty station en route to another with a leave period with my family in between.

I arrived after completing instructor training, expecting to be one of several instructors in the Narrowband Direction Finding course. As it turned out, I was partially correct. As the only Chief Petty Officer assigned to the course, I would be the course manager and instructor.
When I took over the course, the content taught was the same as when I attended in 1967. We held day instruction classes and remedial night sessions for those struggling with the subject material. We conducted practical tests of the student’s troubleshooting processes.
The course began to change toward the end of my time with the course. I traveled several times to Alexandria, Virginia, to evaluate a replacement system. Fortunately, I was not required to develop the new course of instruction. There was a contractor to do that, but my instructors reviewed the proposed curriculum and how they might teach it. I transferred before the new course began.
There was another course in my building that taught the PDP-11. I knew several instructors and was allowed access to the computers when not in use. I used them as I learned the FORTRAN programming language. I created punch cards and ran the programs during their downtimes.
Chief, Naval Education and Training (CNET) tasked my department with collecting and reporting the instructors’ manhours. There were categories like time on the podium, conducting remedial training, instructor preparation, and more. Course managers correlated the data for their courses, and the administration department compiled the numbers for the department and sent the results to CNET.
I became tired of manually compiling the statistics for the six instructors in my course. So, I wrote a FORTRAN program to correlate the hours for my course. It ran on a PDP-11 and took a few minutes after entering the data to produce a perfectly formatted report on the line printer.

When receiving my report, the department admin questioned me and asked if I could work the format to fit the department’s needs. I modified the program, and they used it to consolidate data for the department instructors. The first, but not last, program I would write.
We lived in a house near the base. It was perfect for the three of us, with two bedrooms and a fenced yard. It was more of a base of operations than full-time living quarters. From it, we would deploy to families in Texas, Illinois, or Alabama. We spent many weekend nights playing canasta with cousins in Mobile, Alabama, or taking trips to Lori’s parents in Corpus Christi, Texas, or my parents in Washington, Illinois.
Lori became expecting, and we looked forward to having a second child. There were some concerns as she neared time to deliver. They scheduled an amniocentesis as she reached an expected delivery date. They wanted to ensure the baby was ready for the world via another c-section.
Let’s recap. We arranged a babysitter for DJ so I could be present in the hospital during the test. They performed the test and returned Lori to her room. The doctors wanted to keep her overnight because the baby’s heartbeat wasn’t returning to normal.
I returned home and picked up DJ. The phone rang soon after we got home. The hospital called to tell me to hurry back; they were taking the baby that night. The baby’s heartbeat had remained high, causing concern.
I dropped DJ off at the same sitter and rushed to the hospital. They were prepping Lori for the c-section when I arrived. The nurse took her blood and passed me the vials as they filled. I was to roll them until she finished the blood draw.
Now, it was time for the operation. I was previously approved to be in the delivery room with Lori. So, I helped push her down the hall and to the operating suite. I pushed her through the door when a nurse told me I couldn’t stay. The after-hours staff wasn’t sufficient to handle me should I have a problem during the surgery. I was disappointed I wasn’t in the room at the birth of my baby girl, Tiffany Elizabeth. My disappointment turned to joy when Tiffany was placed in my arms.
I neared the end of this tour. My orders came to Naval Security Activity, Galeta Island, Panama.
My exposure to computers at work instilled a strong desire for a computer to take to Panama. After some research, I convinced Lori to buy an Atari. So, we bought an Atari 800 with a 16-kilobyte memory module. Then, we purchased another 16-kilobyte module to take it to 32k and a cassette drive to store programs we might write. The computer used game modules, and we bought two or three current popular games: the Atari 800, an extra memory module, games, and a cassette drive cost over $1200.00. Though costly, it provided hours of entertainment and a source to learn programming.
It came time to leave Pensacola for another adventure in Panama.

I left Naval Security Group Activity, San Vito dei Normanni, Italy, on an emergency transfer. My father was in critical condition due to collapsed lungs. Fortunately, he recovered and was with us for twenty-three years more.

My assignment to Millington was to attend instructor school to prepare me to be an instructor at the Naval Technical Training Center, Corry Station, Pensacola, Florida.

The school wasn’t focused on rote learning but rather on instructional techniques.

One was wiping a blackboard or whiteboard up and down rather than side to side. Side to side causes the hips to sway and can be comical from the student’s point of view.

Another was to be diligent in not turning your back on the students. The students might find it insulting, but I think it was to protect the instructor from spitballs or other projectiles. (Joke)

I don’t remember written tests, but there were many practicals. Each of us would conduct a training session before our classmates. My classmates would provide feedback on our performance, including suggestions on how to improve.

I was certified as a Master Training Specialist after completing the course.

I had taken up golf at San Vito. I was a duffer who enjoyed the afternoon off they gave me to play.

Millington had a course, and I played several times while there. I remember the first time I played the course. There was a water hole that gave me fits. I drove the green, ending up yards short. I chipped to the green, but the ball rolled into the water hazard. The green sloped toward the water. I played another ball with the same result. After losing a couple of balls in the water, I took the maximum for the hole and moved on. Subsequent rounds found me driving the fairway, chipping over the green, and taking the maximum for the hole. I didn’t try to get a ball to stay on the green. Cheaper for me that way.

Golf is not my game, LOL.

I missed Lori and DJ, but it made sense for them to stay with family while I was in school. It was a short school, after all.

I enjoyed the school and looked forward to Pensacola. Narrowband Direction Finder Course, here I come.

https://www.usmilitariaforum.com/forums/index.php?/topic/266428-keflavik-navy-base-iceland/

Iceland, July 1974 to July 1976.

https://www.usmilitariaforum.com/forums/index.php?/topic/266428-keflavik-navy-base-iceland/

My sponsor met me at the terminal of the Keflavik International Airport in Iceland and greeted me with a comment on how glad he was to see me.  I would learn later the appropriateness of the greeting.

We left the airport and briefly toured the confines of the Naval Air Station Keflavik.

He took me to the command quarterdeck at the barracks housing Naval Security Group Activity, Keflavik sailors.  I checked in and was assigned a room in the barracks.

Anxious to have Lori join me, one of my first actions at the command was to apply for base housing.  She couldn’t join me until I had a place for us to live.

Time has dulled some memories.  I think it was September when I got a place to live, and Lori joined me in October.  We lived in a Quonset hut converted to living quarters just outside the fence surrounding the base, near the ”take-off” gate.

The take-off gate was where Americans with commissary goods or articles bought at the exchange store had to go through Icelandic customs.  Americans had a dollar limit on what we could take off base each month.  The gate agent examined what we took off and noted the dollar amount.  There were penalties for exceeding the monthly allowance.  Lori and I never had the problems some did going through the gate.  Our little beetle didn’t have a place to hide contraband, not that we would violate the rules.  LOL.

I bought a faded baby blue Volkswagen Beetle to transport us in anticipation of her arrival.  Later, we invested in (bought) a gold Beetle after the other gave us some issues.  We parked the blue beetle beside the hut until we sold it.  It showed us a moment of merriment after a significant snowstorm.  The falling snow and blowing snow piled up around the blue beetle, leaving just the top of the roof visible.

Lori and I had to transverse a road that passed near the town of Keflavik and enter the base through a different gate.  After one snowstorm, the road was barely passable in the beetle.  We were on our way to the base when a large SUV approached.  I pulled over, and it passed.  By pulling over, I caused us to become stuck in the deeper snow.  I wasn’t sure what I would have done if the SUV hadn’t stopped.  Several men emerged from the SUV, lifted the Volkswagen with us in it, and sat it back on the road.  After digesting what had just occurred, we waved thanks and completed our trip to the base.

We entered and left the base through a customs gate that was different from the take-off gate.  Iceland worried about smuggling American-made goods, requiring everyone to go through the take-off or this gate.  We could take food, used clothing, camera film, and drinks through this gate, but that would not count toward the monthly allowance.

However, what we took through this gate was limited to what was appropriate for a site-seeing trip or a day or two working at the Hafnir or Rockville operational sites.  Icelandic officers at the gates did the inspections.  If they considered we had too much of an item, we could take it home or leave it with them.  I don’t remember ever taking anything home.

I arrived at the command as Petty Officer Second Class.  After the next rating test, I was promoted to Petty Officer First Class.

Initially, I worked in the maintenance shop at the Hafnir location.  The UYK-3 computer and its associated extra memory cabinet kept me busy.  Besides routine weekly maintenance, I quickly learned it was a problem baby and the reason for the greeting my sponsor gave me at the airport.  He battled it for almost two years and was ecstatic to have someone to leave it to.  He soon transferred.

I soon found the computer would fail, most of the time, after I left work, requiring me to return to the site.  I often discovered the problem had disappeared when I drove out.  Sometimes, a new change tape from operations solved the problem; other times, I had to troubleshoot the solution.  Usually, I only needed an hour or two of troubleshooting, but once, I worked the issue for over twenty-four hours.  I came to hate this #$%^& UYK-3.

Lori was tired of having dinner interrupted or woken in the middle of the night by calls from Ops.  She often threatened to refuse to answer the calls but never did.  One time could have led to violence when a Navy Duty Officer refused to believe her when she told him I was in class.  He pushed past her to check the house for me.  (I was taking a University of Maryland business class then.) I raised the issue with my supervisors, and it never happened again.  Though even today, the memory irritates us.

After my promotion, my Department Head reassigned me as the Rockville maintenance shop supervisor.  The Rockville shop was about 14 miles from the Hafnir operations site.

I have memories of my time at Rockville.  Three stand out to this day.

The first was the command held an open house for our dependants.  Remember that this was a unique opportunity for them since the operations floor was off-limits to persons without the proper security clearances.  So, there were restrictions on how close dependents could get to the equipment, but it allowed them to see where their spouses worked.  One of the petty officer’s wives kept trying to enter the operations floor.  She created a scene for a time but ceased after a firm warning, but she was extremely frustrated.

The second thing was riding the bus to Rockville in the winter.  The command used front loaders to clear the road of snow.  Sometimes, the bus traveled between two piles of snow taller than its height.

Third.  It was winter when the Navy decided to conduct an antenna site survey at the Rockville site.  Two men performed the study, and I was their point of contact and escort.  The surveyors wore tweed suites while I ventured forth in my cold-weather parka.  They showed no discomfort while I shivered and prayed for them to finish.  It was the coldest I remember being until I was stationed in Adak, Alaska.

One day in our first winter, a friend who worked the airfield offered us a pup.  It was from a litter dropped by a stray.  We picked a female and named her Sandy.  She traveled with us to Italy, Pensacola, Panama, and Maryland before we lost her to a tumor.

Sandy was not house-trained when we got her.  I remember seeing her looking for a place to pee and picking her up as I headed for the door.  I almost made it before Sandy peed on me.  Angry, I opened the door and dropped her into a snow bank, where she finished her business.  It wasn’t long before Sandy became house-trained and picked her places outside to do her business.

Sandy had a quirk we couldn’t explain.  She had an issue with Icelanders.  Sandy liked to look out our on-base apartment window.  She barked her head off if an Icelandere walked by.  It was the same when an Icelander pumped our gas.  She barked at them incessantly until they finished.

Lori and I moved into quarters finally.  It was a one-bedroom apartment, one of four in the building.  We became friends with Sammy and Darryl, who lived across the street.  The four of us spent many, many hours playing Pinochle.  We estimated we had played some half million hands by the time Lori and I transferred.

Sammy and Darryl had a Jeep and a custom van.  Weather permitting, we packed food, drinks, and film for a sightseeing trip.  We checked out through the customs gate and began another adventure.

We made one trip to Hvalfjordur Whale Bay, where we saw some men harvesting a whale.  We watched for a time but didn’t interrupt their work.  Until then, I hadn’t realized how large whales can be.

Lori and I loved the sights at Gullfoss Falls and visited it several times, some in the Summer when it flowed freely and some in the winter with it partially frozen.  The falls have two drops.  One is 36 feet, and the second is 69 feet ( from https://guidetoiceland.is/travel-iceland/drive/gullfoss) .

We took a camping trip to Mt. Hekla over a July 4^th weekend.  Darryl drove the van, and I drove their Jeep.  We found a place to camp before taking the Jeep and exploring the slopes of the active volcano.  There were no indications it might erupt during our stay, having last erupted from May to July 1970.

Our campsite was below a power plant high on the slope.  After dinner, Sammy and Darryl settled in their van for the night.  Lori and I had a tent, sleeping bags, and lanterns we rented from the command morale, welfare, and recreation.

The ground was mainly lava, and driving stakes to secure the tent wasn’t an option.  Darryl and I relocated the Jeep and secured the tent between the van and it.  It was fortunate we did.

Lori and I were settled in when the wind began to blow.  It gradually grew in intensity until the tent rose off the ground with us in it.  Quickly, we left the tent and joined the other couple in their van for the night.

Other trips were to uncover beautiful sights while on long drives around the island.  We saw flocks of sheep, unique rock formations, and, on one trip, a tall waterfall that we walked to and under.  To reach it, we climbed a ladder over a fence and walked the tundra until we reached the base of the falls.  It was such a sight, the view of the water coming off the cliff (and avoiding getting wet.)

Many of our friends complained about Iceland.  They couldn’t wait to be reassigned and depart the island.  Lori and I found our time enjoyable, and I, with her support, requested to remain for an additional year.  We were disappointed when my request was denied (for the good of the Navy.)

The day to leave Iceland neared.  The Navy picked up our household goods for shipment, and we moved into guest quarters.  Sandy, our dog, wasn’t allowed to be with us, so Sammy and Darryl let her stay with them.

Two days before flying out, Sammy called.  She was crying, and we could tell she was scared.  I hurried over to find that Sandy had gotten her paw caught in Sammy’s dog’s choker chain.  The chain wrapped around Sandy’s paw, and her effort to get free was choking the other dog.

I tried to grab Sandy’s snout to keep her from biting me as I worked to free her paw.  I missed it, and Sandy bit through my thumb.  Surprisingly, Sandy stopped struggling once she tasted my blood, and I was able to free her.  Both dogs were safe, but I had to get my thumb treated.

I learned a dog was to be quarantined anytime it bit someone.  Base Animal Control wanted to lock Sandy up for two weeks.  I begged, pleaded, argued, and almost cried before convincing those in charge to let my dog leave with us.

So goes the two years spent in Iceland.  Well, I could find other stories to tell if I tried.  Maybe I will, but it will be at another time.

As at Northwest, I repaired and calibrated R-1230 receivers and AN/FSH-7 one-inch, multichannel magnetic recorders when not supporting the CP-771/UYK-3.

It might sound impressive to be responsible for keeping millions of dollars of sensitive electronic equipment operational. It is impressive! But it was primarily dull work.

The receivers rarely failed but did require routine calibration. It was a tedious process that I won’t detail because it would likely put you to sleep reading it.

The recorders were more interesting to support. The routine maintenance involved cleaning the vacuum pads to remove dust so the tape tracked correctly. The exciting work was identifying and correcting failures in the many circuit boards. Problems could be in the power supply, signal input, or processing circuits that put the signals onto the magnetic tape.

Then, there were field days. It sounds like a nice afternoon picnicking, doesn’t it? It wasn’t. A field day was a different form of maintenance. It was stripping and waxing floors, cleaning bathrooms, dusting equipment, and ancillary things.

I have mentioned my love for bowling in other places. It began in Hawaii when I joined the maintenance department’s intramural team. We bowled at the base bowling alley, which I remember had four lanes, and air conditioning was the sliding vents on each side of the outer lanes. I bowled my first 600 series in a base tournament shortly before transferring to my following duty station.

My brother’s ship, the USS Tombigbee, returned from a deployment to the Tokin Gulf for upkeep and availability. Cletus and his friend, Dan, convinced me to join a bowling league in Pearl City. They were better bowlers but put up with my mediocre performances.

It was great spending time with Cletus at the bowling alley and other places. One time was to a luau. We drove over Kolekole Pass, by the large white cross, and down a winding road to get there. The Army removed the cross in 1997 as a result of a lawsuit.

I had two more noteworthy experiences there. I was caught in a riptide while snorkeling off Waikiki. I remember swimming at an angle to the tide and soon broke free. Wearing flippers helped. Sometime during the swim, I punctured my heel on a piece of coral that required treatment.

Second, I experienced a bleeding ulcer that hospitalized me in 1970. The first symptoms were loss of energy and a sick stomach. Then, I noticed black stools. The corpsman, I didn’t see a doctor then, called it a case of the flu. Two days later, they took me to Tripler Army Hospital by ambulance. I had expelled blood that decorated the bathroom walls and floor. Two units of blood later, I was placed in a ward where I remained for a month.

Sometime in 1971, I learned of the ADCOP program. It was the Navy’s Associate Degree Completion Program. Sailors spent two years at a junior college and would earn an associate degree. I applied, and a committee selected me to attend Del Mar Junior College in Corpus Christi, Texas.

In July 1972, I transferred to Naval Air Station, Corpus Christi, Texas, to attend college.

My turn came, and I sat across from him. I would recreate the actual conversation, but honestly, I can’t. However, I remember the significant parts.

The classification officer commented on my Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB) scores, especially the language score. The language test used verb declension and sentence structure familiar to me from my three years of French and four of Latin. So my good score was a matter of recognizing the test design.

The officer asked me what I thought about becoming an interpreter in Chinese or Vietnamese. I was not enthused and asked for alternatives.

He saw me coming, for he had one alternative. I could extend my enlistment by two years for the Advance Electronics Field (AEF.) So  I executed the extension, and he placed me in the Electronics Technician (ET) pipeline, a twisty pipeline leading to over twenty-five years in the Navy.

I graduated from Bootcamp, took leave, and returned to San Diego, California, for school. The first school to become an ET was the Basic Electricity and Electronics School. The course modules weren’t memorable, but the classroom was since it was on the top floor of a building directly under a flight path for the San Diego airport. So many times, instruction was interrupted by a plane passing closely and loudly when landing.

I graduated six weeks later and transferred to Naval Technical Training Center Treasure Island, California, for ETA schools. Treasure Island is an artificial island in San Francisco bay, reached via an exit off the Oakland Bridge.

The school I attended had three sections. Memory suffers. I don’t remember particulars regarding what they taught in phases A-1 and A-2. Still, somewhere I learned about resistance to current flow and capacitance, reading the value of a resister using its color bands. It was likely then.

What I remember of A-3 was troubleshooting equipment. First, the theory side of the class addressed how the significant elements of the hardware worked. Then, The module ended with a written test followed by a practical test.

I must have done okay on the written tests since they kept me in school. However, I remember particularly enjoying the practicals. Each involved finding three failures in the equipment within a specific time limit. We had a grace period before they took off points. Grades depended on how long one needed to find the problems and return the unit to operation.

I managed to ace, scoring 100, on several prior practicals. However, this test was on the R-390 receiver, which consisted of replaceable modules. So, I stood before my receiver this day, and the instructor started the timer.

I removed the receiver’s cover and laughed. The instructor had removed several modules—leaving me with a bare chassis. Then, the instructor brought over a box with the missing parts. He said to hurry since my time had started. The laugh soon fell on him as I reassembled the unit and located the problems within the grace period. Score 100!

The school was on weekdays. So weekends were ours unless we had the duty section. The duty I disliked the most was standing mid-watches around the warehouses near the docks. Often, a cold wind blew off the bay, and the only distraction was the view of Alcatraz, another island in the bay. When not on duty, we could explore Oakland or San Francisco.

I preferred San Francisco for the many things it offered. The bus into town was twenty-five cents. I usually asked for a transfer ticket for the cable cars and spent part of a day riding around the city.

One theatre on Market Street allowed me to watch all the movies on a single admission. The restriction was if you left, you had to pay to reenter. One time, I watched  Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music and Hawaii while snacking on popcorn, candy, and soda—for less than a dollar. (Those were the days!)

I was walking in the city one day when I encountered my first Hippies. I sought Golden Gate Park and ended up in Haight Asbury. My short hair attracted as much attention to me as their dress/undress drew my attention to them. However, I don’t remember any specific interaction with them.

Years later, in 1987, I was ordered to a conference in Skaggs Island, California. My wife joined me, and we spent a day in the city. We rode the cable cars and visited Fisherman’s Wharf—everything I had done over twenty years earlier.

I visited San Francisco one more time in the early 2000s. The city had changed from what I remembered. It was dirtier, and I did not appreciate the people accosting me as I walked, seeking my money. I prefer the memories from the earlier visits.

I was asked one day to attend a briefing. The briefer requested volunteers to change their ratings from Electronics Technician to Communications Technician Maintenance (CTM.) He offered little information except it required a high-level clearance and little likelihood one would go to sea. He also said that many officers couldn’t qualify to be a CTM, but our ASVAB scores were high enough to be an officer.

I agreed to change rates, as did several of my classmates. Eventually, the rating changed from Communications Technician to Cryptologic Technician Maintenance.

Having bought a pig-in-a-poke by agreeing to the change, I found how hard it was to learn what I had purchased. My instructors wouldn’t provide information about the rating. Instead, they told us we would know more when we received orders at the end of phase A-3. So, remain patient and curious.

My orders were to Pensacola to the CP-771/UYK-3 school. However, my classmates received orders to a different school. So, I became concerned about why only I received the computer school. Though I asked, no one suggested a reason. I finished A-3, took some leave, and found myself in Pensacola in December.

Bootcamp and schools filled my 1967. Of course, a school would start 1968, but that is fodder for another time.