I finally arrived home. I mentioned my “Freedom Flight” in another article. We left Adak on time and stopped briefly on Shimya Island before arriving in Anchorage — only to get stranded for a day because of storms in the States.

The home was not the one I left eighteen months before. My wife moved us from the ‘B’ side of the duplex on Falconer Court to the ‘A’ side. FT Meade was remodeling the duplexes, and it had become time to update ours. I needed a day or so to adjust to the reversed layout of the rooms.

After a brief leave period, I drove to my new assignment at ‘Detachment Potomac.’ The Naval Research Laboratory (NRL) provided the building housing my command’s ‘headquarters’, my new work center, and part of the Classic Wizard Support Group. My drive from our house was between fifty minutes and what seemed forever. The first few times, my drive went quickly, and I felt it wasn’t so bad. My impression would soon change.

Then, Maryland began improving I-295 by putting in gutters with drain openings. It resulted in lane closures, making my drives outside of rush hours much longer. The commute to work remained reasonable since I came to work before the heart of rush hour, but the ride home was a hit or miss depending on when I left work. Unfortunately, the construction went on for several years, but I accepted it as part of the job.

When I arrived at NRL, the staff consisted of a commanding officer, a senior chief, and two petty officers. The officer selected to be our executive officer hadn’t reported yet. I wondered about a staff this size being headed by a Navy captain. Soon I had the answer. Detachment Potomac also included the NSA’s Mission Operations Support Center (MOSC).

My role was as the command’s Electronic Material Officer (EMO.) Instead of managing maintenance workshops, I had a nebulous role in the Classic Wizard program. The role wasn’t defined when I arrived, and I was told to determine it.

The program office at NRL supported the Wizard equipment at the field sites, and I would support it while being separate in the command structure.

Soon, I attended planning briefings, coordinated with field sites for program support, and supported the Maine training site. I did these in addition to spending time learning about the MOSC. Spending time at the MOSC paid off when I managed the creation of the workspace for the Integrated Broadcast Service Support Office (IBSSO) years after retiring from the Navy.

The woman who was Classic Wizard Division Officer in Adak, Alaska, received orders to the Classic Wizard support group (not part of Detachment Potomac.) She was in the communications division. She came to me one day, asking if I would start attending system development meetings at several contractor sites. The program was developing the follow-on system, and she wanted my input. Also, I needed to keep abreast of the plans to prepare sites for the upgrades. My Captain agreed with her proposal, and I had more things on my plate.

I began a hectic travel schedule. Once a month, I would fly out on Monday to Dallas and attend a meeting the next day. After the Tuesday meeting, I would fly to Las Angeles for a Wednesday meeting. Then, I flew to San Francisco for a Thursday meeting. I got to stay over the night and fly home Friday morning—the weekend after these trips was time to rest.

On another week, monthly, I would drive to State College, Pennsylvania, for a meeting. This was an early morning drive up, followed by a meeting, and driving home in the evening.

Besides these, I made several trips to Bangor, Maine, to the Classic Wizard Training Facility. This facility trained the maintenance technicians and I had input regarding this training.

I would drive to Maine instead of flying. I could drive there in about twelve hours, and my travel orders allowed a travel day. Driving was less expensive than flying, so my executive officer allowed me to travel by car. On most trips, I would bring home fresh lobsters for my wife and others, one of the benefits of driving.

I was in Maine evaluating the installation of some antenna systems when I was ordered to return immediately to Detachment Potomac. I arrived home late afternoon, ready to report to the work center the following day.

I went out for something (don’t remember what) about 8 PM. When I got back, my wife told me that the United States and its allies were attacking Iraq. This was the start of Desert Storm, and we watched missiles flying in Baghdad and the subsequent explosions.

My Captain knew the war was about to start and wanted me back quickly to be available since I coordinated support to the field sites. None of us knew how long the war would last or what the sites might need. As it turned out, I had no support issues during Desert Storm.

My role in attending the planning meetings and travel remained consistent.

Now it was fall 1991, and I was up for orders. The conversation with my placement officer/detailer was not going well. Remember that I was short-toured from Ft Meade to Adak with a promise I would be returned to Ft Meade. That didn’t happen. Instead, I was at Detachment Potomac.

The placement officer wanted to send me to Japan for an EMO tour. Should I accept these orders, my wife said she would not go with me. I told the detailer I had been in the Navy for twenty-five years, and a tour to Japan would be my last before retiring. It would be too challenging to plan my transition from there, so NO.

Then, he said the only other option was in the 40 Department at Naval Security Group Command on Nebraska Avenue, Washington, DC. I called the officer I would replace and learned he traveled forty weeks a year. I could expect the same, so NO.

I reminded him that I was promised to return to the NSA after Adak and took Detachment Potomac as a favor to another warrant officer. He could send me to one of the many junior officer’s billets at the NSA. I had filled one before and knew there were many open billets there. He refused to grant my request, continuing to plan for me to go to Nebraska Avenue.

Finally, I took it no longer. In November 1991, I had my administrative assistant prepare my request to retire on March 1, 1992. With the request made, I sent resumes to the companies working on the Classic Wizard project.

As it occurred, I was optimistic the request would be approved. I waited but heard nothing for several days. Finally, I contacted a warrant I knew who worked for the Admiral who had to approve my request. He denied having seen it, so I had it resent by my admin staff. Surprise. A day or two later, my request was approved and sent to my placement officer. Now, I had to become aggressive in seeking a job.

I was concerned when I did not receive a response to the resumes, and it was the second week of December. Remember that we still lived in the quarters on FT Meade and would have to move once I retired. Where I got a job would play into where I would rent or buy.

One day, I was talking with a friend who worked in the communications support group. I mentioned my frustration with not hearing from anyone regarding a job. He asked when I would retire, and I told him.

Later that day, he told me a man he knew wanted to talk to me the next morning about a job. So, John and I met the next day. I listened to his offer, negotiated a salary, and signed on as employee four on the NEWLINK payroll.

A job opened that allowed us to relocate from our place on FT Meade. The children wanted to remain in the same school system, so we bought a house in Hanover, Maryland. Thirty-two years later, it is still home to my wife and me.

My official retirement date is 1 March 1992, but my retirement ceremony was on the last day of January 1992. That is the day I started my next life phase as a NEWLINK employee providing contractual services.

One further thought. Remember, the placement officer gave me only two options for my next assignment. Well, he was at my retirement ceremony and asked me if his actions had anything to do with my decision to retire. I said he made the decision for me by refusing my request.

Thanks to him, I was hired by John, leading to a productive career as a contractor.

I intend to start with my relief at getting home from Adak. Then, my thoughts turned to what I found upon returning: my wife had moved our family from the B-side of the duplex on Falconer Court, FT Meade, to the A-side.

From an unknown trigger, my thoughts turned that she had to have the freezer moved, as well as the other appliances. I wondered who helped.

The exciting thing about the freezer is that we still have it, and it is in our garage, performing as well as ever for over thirty-five years. We had bought it at Ward’s. It was a display model with a minor dent. That hasn’t affected its performance, though.

The point of this aside is new is not necessarily better than old.

I admit to a period of stupidity. Our dryer stopped warming, so no drying. Instead of calling a repair man, I suggested replacing it, since it was slightly over twenty years old.

I must have been really suffering stupidly when I bought the replacement. The replacement sounded tinny when closing the door, while the replaced unit sounded brick-solid. There is no difference in drying choices, so we could have put in a new heater and kept the old one.

Stupid is as stupid does.

Have a great day.

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.

Lori and I left Iceland on a military flight with our dog, Sandy.  As I mentioned in the Iceland post, getting Sandy cleared to leave Iceland after she bit my thumb took some effort.

My parents picked us up at the airport.  They were on a mini-vacation themselves, and we became part of it.

Dad and Mom wanted to visit her brother, Uncle Hugh, and his family in Kentucky.  On the way, we stopped at a park dedicated to Daniel Boone.  After some pictures, we moved on to Uncle Hugh’s.

Hugh didn’t have a functioning bathroom; instead had an outhouse.  Lori had never encountered one before, though I had told her I use one when visiting my grandparents and Uncle Albert’s family.  We stayed for a few hours before driving to my parent’s house.

While we were at my parents, Lori learned she was pregnant.  Of course, it caused much excitement and a bit of anxiety.  How would the long flight to Rome, Italy, affect Lori?  What medical services would she have access to in Italy, etc?

We finally arrived at the command, Naval Security Group Activity, San Vito, Italy.  Sandy was placed in quarantine at the local shelter while we checked into temporary quarters.

I was one of several Petty Officer First Class in the electronics maintenance shop and one of four UYK-3 computer technicians.  Six months after I arrived, the Department Head pulled me from the shop and assigned me as assistant to the department’s senior chief.

I wrote correspondence that turned into messages for transmission to Naval Security Group Command.  Some were in response to questions from headquarters, and others were scheduled reports.  I admit I wasn’t impressed with my responsibilities in this position, but I was being shortsighted.

As an assistant, I learned the behind-the-scenes operations of a command department.  I became privy to discussions between my superiors, decision processes, operating instructions, and routine reports that kept a Maintenance Department functioning.  This experience paid dividends as I became a Chief Petty Officer, Course Manager, and, in time, field command department head.

After we checked into guest housing, my Department Senior Chief allowed me a few days to settle and find a permanent place for us.  We learned the housing office required two things of a property for placement on the available list.  They were running water and screens on the bathroom and kitchen windows.

One listing struck a nerve with us.  The Italian owners had an apartment on the second floor of their home in San Vito dei Normanni (San Vito).  We spoke with the owners and reached a rental agreement.  As it turned out, the rent in lira (Italian currency) was less than my housing allowance.

The kitchen had no appliances, so we bought a bombola del gas (propane gas tank) stove and a refrigerator that ran on 240v.  Later, as the weather cooled, we bought kerosene heaters.  With them and our goods from Iceland, we set up housekeeping above Tina, Cosimo, and their two children.

Tina and Cosimo were not only our landlords but also became friends.  Lori learned some Italian from Tina, using Spanish as a common language.  It was enough to permit us to visit, share food, and vino locale (wine from the grapes Cosimo grew) or amaretto.

We allowed Tina and Cosimo access to the house’s third floor (roof).  We were not required to do so, but we did.  They used it to dry clothes and store a few items.  Tina would do her laundry while we were on base, so they never intruded on our privacy.  Our allowing them to use the roof paid off in ways we never considered until later.

Our door had a bamboo curtain covering it.  More than once, we left the door open when we left to go to the base or to sightsee.  The curtain hid the door was open.  We did this more often as Lori’s pregnancy progressed and more times after the baby was born.  An open door with the owners/renters gone was an invitation for robbery.

Many of my coworkers paid protection money, hoping not to have their off-base home robbed.  I learned from a couple that paying did not prevent robbery.  Lori and I never considered buying protection.

Our interaction with Tina and Cosimo, Lori’s learning Italian, allowing them access to the roof, and Lori’s pregnancy bought us free protection.  When we returned after leaving the door open, we found one of Tina’s children or her friends guarding the door.  They would laugh at us for forgetting to close the door, but we never lost anything to robbery.

The maintenance department allowed day workers to play golf one afternoon a week as a form of physical fitness.  I bought some clubs and played most weeks and some weekends. \

Lori’s pregnancy progressed well.  The command had only a dispensary, no hospital.  Expectant mothers could have the baby in Ramstein, Germany, or use the local hospital in Brindisi.  We decided on the local hospital.

We were surprised, probably shouldn’t have been, but were, when my mother notified us that she was coming to help Lori after the baby came.

I was on the golf course, finishing the third hole, when a man came running, calling my name.  He said I needed to reach the bowling alley and drive Lori to the hospital in Brindisi since no ambulance was available.  Lori’s water broke while bowling in a women’s league.  Lori told me later she was on lane one and winning against her opponent.

My mother, Lori, and I piled into our Gold VW and headed for the hospital.  We were at a stop sign by the hospital when an Italian rear-ended us.  The driver was also taking his wife to the hospital.  As I remember, she was pregnant, too.  They were in a hurry as we were, and since no one was hurt and VW wasn’t damaged, we agreed to ignore the accident.

They admitted Lori, and the wait began.  Hours passed without Lori going into labor.  So, the next morning, they induced labor.  Hours later, they did a C-section, and we had a beautiful baby boy.

Isn’t that a sterile description of a blessed event?  It doesn’t convey the concern and worry as we waited for labor to begin, but it didn’t.  Then, the discussion about inducing labor.  Once induced, hour after hour of hard labor without Lori dilating.

Through her hard labor, I held her hand and coached her as she suffered hard contractions hour after hour.  I watched my love grow tired while I worried for her and the baby.  Lori tried to sleep between contractions, but they came too often to allow her to rest.  When she was awake, Lori felt she was patting my face, but actually, she was slapping me and turning my cheeks red.

Finally, they wheeled Lori into the operating room.  The duty doctor was a plastic surgeon who performed the surgery, but an English-speaking midwife birthed Dwane Junior.

The hospital adventure continued as Lori and Dwane Jr remained in the hospital.  One feeding time, the nurse brought a baby to Lori who took the baby and immediately recognized it was not Dwane.  The baby didn’t have his birthmark.  Suddenly, the nurse came hurrying into the room with Dwane, saying, “Scusa. Scusa” (sorry, sorry.) The rest of the stay was uneventful.

Mom stayed for a time, enjoying visiting the markets with Lori and Dwane (DJ).  She found several souvenirs to bring home and some for us to send her.  However, her favorite thing was to sit on the balcony and watch our neighbors.  Armed with a cup of coffee and her cigarettes, she watched the happenings on the street. One of her favorite scenes was of the family across the street who took a horse into their house.  The first floor was a stable.

It was time to have DJ baptized.  Lori coordinated the event to be in the local San Vito Catholic Church.  Lori, Mom, DJ, and I left the house and joined Tina, Cosimo, and their family outside.  Lori let Tina carry DJ when asked, and we walked to the church.  We hadn’t reached the end of the street before we noticed that the neighbors had joined us in the procession.  When we arrived at the church, the procession had grown almost large enough to fill the church to watch our son’s baptism.  We learned Tina bragged about her American tenants wanting their son baptized in the local church and invited all to attend.

When it became time for Mom to leave, we drove her to Rome.  We stayed over to visit the Colosseum and the Vatican.  We attended Catholic Mass conducted by Pope Saint Paul VI, and he blessed us upon completion of the Mass.

Bowling, then as now, was our preferred entertainment.  I was on the local bowling association board, and she and I bowled in several leagues and base tournaments.

One year,  Lori joined several women who wanted to bowl in a tournament in Germany.  We drove to Ramstein while the other women flew on a military plane.  Our route took us through Innsbruck, Austria, and into Germany.  Our military identifications served as passports as we crossed borders.

We drove for hours after crossing the German border.  We neared Remscheid and began looking for the military base.  Unable to find it, we stopped and asked for directions.  It was then that we learned the base was at Ramstein.  We had taken directions from Tina and Cosimo on how to get there, and they had confused Ramstein with Remscheid.  After hours of driving, we finally arrived at our destination.

Lori bowled well in the qualifier and earned a spot in the stepladder phase.  It meant staying several extra days, which we used to visit a ski lodge and her cousin stationed nearby.

It came time to go home.  As it happened, two of Lori’s teammates had stayed to watch her in the stepladder.  They planned to fly home on the following military flight, but the flight would be several days later.  So, we let them ride with us when they asked.

So, I strapped the luggage to the roof and filled the car’s trunk.  The women rode in the back with DJ and his car seat in the middle.  It was an uncomfortable trip, but we safely returned to the San Vito base.  The exclamation point on the trip was we had dropped everyone at their homes, and I parked in front of ours.  Later, I needed to go to the shoppette (similar to a 7-11) and found the VW with a flat tire.  Thankfully, it didn’t happen while on the trip.

I mentioned I bowled.  We were a Navy activity hosted by the Air Force as a tenant command.

The Air Force had an annual tournament to determine who from European commands would participate in the All-Air Force Bowling Tournament in the States.  Tenant members could vie for a position on the base team.

Three times, I won a position on the base team.  Twice, I went with the team to Aviano but failed to qualify for the All-Italy Air Force team.  I qualified for the All-Italy team on the third try and went to Athens, Greece.  I qualified there for the All-Europe Air Force event at Ramstein.  I was one of two Navy bowlers in the competition.

The event management said that as Navy members, we could bowl but weren’t eligible to go to the All-Air Force tournament in the United States.  As it turned out, my partner and I won the doubles competition, though I couldn’t go to the States.

A Navy selection board identified me for promotion to Chief Petty Officer in 1978.  I underwent chief’s initiation with another maintenance First Class. One day, I may reveal what I experienced at the initiation.  Chiefs, Senior and Master Chiefs from ships in port at Taranto, Italy, added festivities only seagoing sailors could bring.

I might remember many other things to write about if I sat and thought for a time.  But, perhaps they can become another entry.

I neared the date for transfer when the Red Cross notified the command of my father’s hospitalization.  He suffered collapsed lungs and was in critical condition.  The command human relations coordinator spoke with my detailer and arranged for me to transfer early.

My orders were to Middleton, Tennessee, to attend instructor school.  Upon successful completion, I would proceed to Naval Technical Training Center, Corry Station, Pensacola, Florida, to be course manager of the same course I had graduated from in 1967.

The quick processing of my transfer created unexpected problems.  I would board home to be with my father, leaving Lori and DJ behind.  Someone needed to arrange the shipment of our household goods and car.  Lori was saddled with this and suffered a long flight home with a toddler.  She did a stellar job, as I knew she would.

So, I ended my tour at Naval Security Group Activity, San Vito, Italy.