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.

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.

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.

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.

August 1972, and I checked in at the Naval Air Station, Corpus Christi, Texas, Quarterdeck.

I would attend Del Mar College for an Associate Degree at the Navy’s expense, completing four semesters and a summer session of classes. My only military duties were attending classes and maintaining passing grades. I could attend courses in civilian clothes and live off the base. My thoughts were I could get used to this.

I met with a counselor and selected the electronics technical degree as my objective. We work out a schedule, and I collect the materials for the fall semester’s courses.

Each of my technical courses has an associated laboratory session. Theory is taught in morning lectures, and practicals are taught in an afternoon lab.

One of my first courses was an introductory Alternating Current/Direct Current course taught by Professor Halloway. He passed out a syllabus on the first day of class and dismissed the class after telling us he would test on the first day’s material when we next met. Testing on the material before he reviewed it during class was challenging for the recent high school graduates familiar with being taught before testing. We, the sailors in the class, understood how to self-study and secretly enjoyed their chagrin.

The schedule allowed me free evenings, with coursework completed. So, I began spending time at Gulf Bowl, having enjoyed bowling while in Hawaii. Soon, I was asked to substitute for missing bowlers in the evening leagues. Spending most of my free time at the bowling alley, I applied and was hired to work the customer service counter.

I attended classes and worked the lanes through the 1972 fall and 1973 spring semesters. The summer sessions began, and my routine remained constant. Attend class, work at the lanes, and bowl often.

In late June or early July. I was working when two attractive young ladies approached the counter and signed up for the Saturday Gold Stamps lights-out event. I learned their names were Lori and Margaret when they registered. Later in the evening, I chatted with Lori, and she agreed to a date. That date started a whirlwind romance. By September, we were engaged and married in January. January 2024 marks our fiftieth anniversary.

Marriage hardly changed my schedule. I attended classes and worked at the bowling alley. Lori worked at Del Rey Dance Studio during the day and joined me at the lanes while I worked or bowled.

There were two Chief Petty Officers in my classes. Before long, we became good friends, and they invited me to the chief’s club for a beer or two several times. They allowed me to call them by their first names when in civies and “Chief” when in uniform. My classmate CPO Steve Bell was the best man at our wedding.

Though I had spent many afternoons visiting with my father-in-law, it seemed he hadn’t realized I was in the Navy. Lori told me after our wedding that he had told her, “You didn’t tell me he was in the Navy,” as he walked her down the aisle. At another point, he told her I wasn’t taking her away from Corpus Christi. Fortunately, he was wrong.

There weren’t many excess funds as a Petty Officer Second Class, so entertainment was visiting with family, league bowling, and watching favorite television programs. Things are much better now. We often reminisce and laugh at the memory of how often we dined on macaroni and cheese and fish sticks in those days. Mac and cheese is still a favorite side dish.

I received orders to Naval Security Group Activity, Iceland, midway through the 1974 spring semester. I would transfer in June, leaving my bride until I found housing at the command. It was not something we looked forward to, but we soon accepted this might not be the last time the Navy would cause us to be apart. It wasn’t.

I left for Iceland from my parent’s home. I don’t remember who was with Lori and my Mom when I caught the bus for NYC. Mom followed the bus for a distance, wanting my attention but I had settled in my seat and drifted quickly off to sleep. I have no problem sleeping on any form of transportation I am not driving.

I have great memories of attending Del Mar College and my time in Corpus Christi.

Francis Leo Knott, my father, served over twenty-six years in the US Navy. He saw service in the last days of World War II, during the Korean War, and during Viet Nam. My father retired as an Electrician Mate Senior Chief. He passed in 2002. Read my childhood memories of him here.

Cletus James Knott, a younger brother, served twenty years in the Navy. We were in the Navy at the same time, but the Navy never detailed us to the same command. However, we had time together while I was stationed in Hawaii, and his ship spent some time in port. Though it was a short time together, we still had fun at Luaus, bowling and just being together. He retired as a Gunners Mate Guns First Class. Cletus died in a motorcycle accident after visiting the family home in 2002.

Joseph Paul Knott, the youngest brother,  also served in the Navy. But his service was cut short due to medical reasons. He passed in 2003.

Dad, Cletus, and Paul. Thank you for your service.

The status is I have two completed drafts. Completed does not mean ready for publishing, but I finished the storyline. Story titles and cast names are subject to change.

I wrote Saving Delisanna first.

The story takes place in an earthlike world in a time of wizards and swords. Delisanna is a goddess of the second pantheon of Jihalla.

Delisanna is trapped on Siden by a device that can eventually kill her. The protagonists are a human female mage and a male monk who must find and release her before Delisanna dies. The antagonist is a god from Jihalla.

The draft is almost two hundred thousand words. So, I may make it into two manuscripts.

The second story is Kiliane’s Rage. It is the story of the first pantheon to rule Jihalla.

Siden is the domain of the pantheon, given to them populated with plants and animals. Kiliane and her mate became the creators of humans.

The survival of the mortal and divine realms may not be what Kiliane’s fighting for so much as what she may die for.

I am posting Kiliane’s Rage to Wattpad. Follow here as I upload new chapters. https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/340684638-kiliane%27s-rage.

I encourage suggestions for improving the story. General comments also are appreciated.

I was on an airplane, leaving my family home for the Naval Communications Training Center, Corry Station, Pensacola, Florida, to start a new chapter in my life.

My orders were to the CP-771/UYK-3 school, whatever that was. I knew the prefix marked it as a computer, but no one could or would tell me what kind.

I committed to change from Electronics Technician to Communications Technician in ETA school for these orders.

When I arrived at my new base, I learned I couldn’t start school because my security clearance investigation wasn’t complete. So, they assigned me to a shop where I used the skills learned in A school to repair equipment.

An aside here. While on leave, I repaired a television for my parents. It required a bit of minor troubleshooting and replacing a vacuum tube. The training paid off.

I received my clearance and started school in January 1968. It wasn’t long before I wondered why a high-level security clearance was necessary to attend this school. After all, the manuals and training materials were all unclassified.

I decided it wasn’t necessary for the school, but they shouldn’t train someone who couldn’t receive follow-on assignments. So, it made sense to wait for a completed clearance.

In class, I learned how to use “and” and “or” gates to form logic cards, use logic cards to form a register, write and use test programs, and naturally—troubleshoot.

Classes were on weekdays, and I usually had weekends free unless one was a duty day. So they never interfered with school.

Some friends from ETA school also received orders to Pensacola but to a different school. One had a car, and several of us would go partying together. We drove just into Mississippi a few times to drink since some of us were underage in Florida. But, of course, I was a sensible drinker and never got drunk (wink-wink.)

I had a roommate, Ken, who was also 20. Ken learned there was a bus to Biloxi where we could barhop to closing time and catch an early morning bus back. So, on several Fridays, we sometimes did as described.

Biloxi was home to an Air Force technical school. I met several airmen from the school in some of the bars. They liked to brag about what they were learning about equipment repair. So Ken and I secretly laughed, behind their backs, when they talked about learning to repair by replacing defective boards. We were learning to fix broken computers by changing components on failed boards. We were more than board changers.

Drinking was not the only entertainment on base for students. The command had several hobby shops, but my favorite was the one with a racetrack for 1/16^th-size cars. I built a Maserati model that screamed around the track and spent many hours racing all comers.

I would be remiss, not to mention I remember Pensacola as a welcoming community to the students at Corry Station. Initially, I had to remain on base for the first weeks of school, but I enjoyed what the city offered once freed to tour the city.

The day finally came. I submitted my “dream” sheet shortly before the end of the course. I listed three localities where I preferred assignments. In those days, the highest non-rated student was guaranteed an assignment to one of their choices. I was that person.

My dream sheet listed Washington State, Norfolk, and San Diego. But, as it turned out, I received orders to Naval Radio Stations (R) Northwest, Virginia. The barracks, my home, was in Virginia, but I worked in a building located in North Carolina. More about it in another post.

Graduation day came, and I was on an airplane, ready to start another chapter.

I lived my preteen and teen years when it was the in-thing of going to drive-ins. The big screen was nice, but I enjoyed eating candy and popcorn while sitting on the car’s hood. It was strong enough to hold my three siblings and me. My mother, the usual driver, preferred a yard chair over the hood. (LOL)
When the drive-in closed for the winter, we went to the small theater in Washington, Illinois.

I have memories of only one movie from that time. The movie was “The Conqueror,” starring John Wayne as Genghis Khan. I remember being impressed when someone shot John Wayne with an arrow. I marveled at how realistic it looked, sticking from his shoulder. (I imagine my grandkids would laugh at this special effect.)

I regularly spent one weekend day at the theater on Market Street in San Francisco, California. I could take a bus into town round trip for fifty cents. The theater charged twenty-five cents and allowed me to stay through as many movies as I could tolerate in one day. Lunch was often popcorn and candy. These prices fit nicely in a budget, my monthly pay of ninety-three dollars before taxes.
I spent one day enjoying two movies that I remember. The first was “Hawaii,” and the second was “The Sound of Music.” I like almost every Julie Andrews movie.

I am skipping to the recent past, fifty years. I like action movies. The more action, the better. There are too many action movies to list since what would make the list today would be displaced by a new one tomorrow.

The are several series that are particular favorites. Starwars and Startrek rank just below the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies. The marvel series has excellent visuals but would be a distant third to me.

So, that is a quick summary. Sorry if my choices conflict with yours, but they are mine. (LOL)

Welcome. You know that I enjoy, well, maybe addicted to, bowling if you follow my blog. I bowl multiple times a week and have bowled in competitions in several states and foreign countries. I was a member of the Professional Bowlers Association for a time and won money in several regional tournaments. (No, I never won an event.)

Have you wondered how it all started? How did it grow and persevere over the years?

The story became one afternoon in my freshman year (ninth grade) at Spaulding Institute, a Catholic high school in Peoria, Illinois. Those who know me will realize I am speaking of 1961.

The school had an afterschool activity called bowling, ten-pin bowling. So I joined some classmates at a local bowling alley, where I learned the game’s rules and bowled some games. Unfortunately, I have no recollection of my scores for those games.

I was sidelined by a dislocated shoulder while playing flag football in the P. E. (physical education) class a few days later. I was on the offensive line (all 100 lbs. of me) against a 200 lb, or more, offensive lineman. He hit me, and my shoulder said “ouch” in a shrill voice.

I didn’t bowl again until taking a date to a bowling alley in 1969. As I sit here, I can’t remember how well I did or who she was. Time dims some memories but not others.

Now it was 1971. I am stationed in Hawaii, and my brother’s ship is in port. Cletus, also in the Navy, would be here for several months. He and a friend convince me to bowl in a league with them at a Pearl City bowling alley. The Navy base started an intramural league about the same time, and I joined the Electronics Maintenance team.

Then, I was bowling at least twice a week, often three times. I went the whole hog with having a bowling ball drilled to fit my grip, shoes, and a bag. I don’t remember much about my average in those leagues, but it was in the intramural league that I had my first 600 series. I was hooked on the game now.

The Navy moved me to Corpus Christi, Texas, to attend Del Mar College. I mainly had morning classes which allowed me to spend afternoons and evenings at Gulf Bowl. Soon, I bugged them so often that they hired me to work the customer counter. Besides working there, I bowled in leagues almost every night and weekend. Sometimes, I competed in both the 6 pm and 9 pm shifts. I rarely got home before midnight seven days a week the first year I was there. Saturdays and Sundays had me working or practicing.

Good coaching was another advantage to working at Gulf Bowl. They sent me to a coaching class before I could coach some local high school bowlers. Also, Heather, a very knowledgeable coach, took me under her wing. I improved significantly under her tutelage, having my first 700 series and several high scores. Unfortunately, the Navy saw fit to move me to Iceland before I had a 300.

My days of bowling twice a night and every weekend day changed on one Saturday night. I was working a lights-out promotion when two attractive young ladies came to the counter. After taking their money, I sent them to their lane. I had free time after the shift started and found myself near them. Being a bit forward, I chatted with who I thought the prettiest and, finally, asked her for a date. To make a story short, Lori and I began a whirlwind romance that found us at the altar just over six months later.

Dates with Lori battled with my bowling. Compromise, she joined me in a couple of leagues—becoming my life-mate and bowling partner. We have bowled together in Corpus Christi, Iceland, Italy, Florida, Panama, and Maryland over the past 48 plus years. And we both bowled in tournaments in Germany, but not together.

Lori was a novice bowler when she and I began bowling together. However, she improved quickly and won multiple “I beat my husband” awards when we were in Iceland. I have had to work diligently at my game to stay ahead of her, but even today, she gets a laugh when she outscores me.

Now you know the details of my bowling life until I met my wife, and the details of my game time since are less detailed—mainly from the paired view. Perhaps, one day, I will get into more details of the years since 1974.

Keep in your mind that this is how it started. But, this is not a complete story. I haven’t my last game yet. Nor has Lori. Although age and sore joints challenge us today, we still manage six to nine games weekly.

I write to share a part of my life with you. I encourage you to share yours with me via the comment form.