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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Yes, I was a member and later an officer in the chess club.

First Exposure

My neighbor introduced me to chess while I was in elementary school. Mrs. Barber enjoyed the game, but she couldn’t find anyone willing to play in our rural area. I don’t remember how the subject came up, but I agreed to be her opponent. She taught me the moves, and I struggled to win a game. I hated losing, and it became an obsession to win a game from her.

The paper had a chess column I read religiously. It provided the moves for a game between grandmasters with analysis. The more I studied the game, the clearer it became, and soon I won my first game from my teacher.

High School

I joined the Spaulding Institute, my high school, Chess Club my freshman year. The high school was in Peoria, and I lived some nine miles away but over a thirty-minute drive. The club met after school, which meant I had to take the Greyhound bus home. Greyhound was the only option as my mother worked and my father was away in the Navy.

One afternoon, after the club finished, I passed a bookstore on my way to the bus station. I entered the store and perused the store’s selection of chess books. Finally, I found one that interested me. I don’t remember if it was on chess openings or tactics, but I ponied up the money for it. This was the first of many chess books I bought from that store and other places over the years.

My devotion to the game proved stronger than others in the club. It wasn’t long before I had the top board in the matches played against local high schools. I want to say I usually won, but you don’t expect me to remember that level of detail from nearly sixty years ago!

USCF

I was a sophomore when I met another chess enthusiast, one with a car. I wish I remembered his name, but can’t. Anyway, he told me about a chess club that met every week at the YMCA. He also introduced me to the United States Chess Federation (USCF).

One day I competed in a USCF tournament held at the Y. The USCF ranked players based on who they played and their opponent’s ranking. I played five games and received a national chess ranking that placed me in the C Class. I moved into Class B after several more ranked games and tournaments.

I progressed to the Class A group by the time I graduated high school. I earned that status with my best performance up to that time,  a 2.5 out of 5 points in a tournament in Indianapolis, Indiana. I lost the first game against a Master Class player. Then, I won the second game. I drew the next three games against higher-ranked players, including the last one against a Senior Master.

After High School

I competed in rated tournaments for several years after joining the Navy, including playing chess by mail. Though I remained a Class A player over the board, I reached Master status in correspondence chess. I enjoyed competing against players from around the world until 1979 when some began using chess-playing computers in preparing their moves.

Such is the story of my participation in an organization for “nerds” in high school and how it led to an enjoyable pastime for many years after leaving school.

What did you do in high school? Share, using the comment form.

The answer to this question is by car or RV.

I enjoy being behind the steering wheel as the miles disappear behind me.

First Car

My love of driving began with my first car. I wrote about using it to transit between my jobs in Skokie and Waukegan, Illinois, and home in 1965-66. It was before I joined the Navy. I didn’t count the times I left work and drove the 180 plus miles to visit my mother and siblings, staying a few hours and driving back to my apartment to get ready to go to work. I know I logged several thousand miles between June 1965 and November 1966.

My driving days went limited to a short leave period in February 1967. Though I used my mother’s car while on leave, I recorded only a couple hundred miles visiting old school chums and dating old girlfriends. Then, back to school in California absent a car.

I completed the training in California in November and received orders for more schooling in Pensacola, Florida. I took leave and enjoyed a few hundred miles behind the wheel again. Once more, a plane ride took me away.

My Second Car

Finally, in March 1968 I received my first assignment that was not a school. So I went home in transit and bought a car. It was a 1960 Chevrolet Impala. I was in Washington and needed to get to Chesapeake, Virginia. The trip was enjoyable only in the length of time behind the wheel. It was the first of five journeys between the base and home over the next twenty-two months. Each trip was almost two thousand miles round trip.

Road Warrior

Now that I was a road warrior, I took every opportunity to get behind the wheel and log hours behind the wheel. When I was stationed again in Pensacola, we would drive to Illinois to visit my family or Corpus Christi, Texas, to visit my wife’s family.
Until we lost our parents and several siblings, my wife and I made regular trips to visit family. Since, we have made several road trips to visit cousins, nephews, and nieces.

Miles on the road

I won’t argue that my wife has shared many of the hours behind the wheel while I played passenger. Between us, we put over a hundred thousand miles on each, a Volkwagen Beetle, a Ford station wagon, a 1984 Jeep Cherokee, a 1987 Jeep Cherokee, a 1970 Ford F-150, a 2013 GMC Acadia. In addition, we put over three hundred twenty thousand miles on a 1989 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Those are the vehicles my wife and I owned. Before we married, I put thousands of miles on my original Ford Fairlane and more on my Mom’s Buick while stationed in Corpus Christi. There were more on a 1970 Ford Galaxie, a 1970 Ford Torino, a 1969 Mustang, and multiple rentals for job-related travel. Not as much as a long-distance driver, but clearly over a million road miles.

The Next Million

Though I am retired and passed my seventieth birthday, I still love to spend time behind the wheel on local trips and the annual pilgrimage to Texas in our RV. Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten my wife’s concurrence. Still, I hope to log another million miles before my driving days are over.

Share your preference for traveling with me using the form provided I look forward to hearing from you.

It was inadequate to gain the day recognized as a national holiday. Although they declared Mother’s Day a national holiday in 1914, Father’s Day languished as a celebration. After multiple attempts over the years to have it declared a holiday, President Richard Nixon signed the law making it a national holiday in 1972.

Father’s Day with a Dad in the Navy (See more here)

I don’t remember many years I celebrated his day with my father. He made the U. S. Navy a career and spent most of the year gone. I never learned why the decision to locate us in Illinois while he did his tours of duty at sea and shore far from us. It was always a treat when he took leave, sometimes 30 days in a year, at home. When he deployed, he sent many letters and gifts from exotic places such as Thailand, Japan, Singapore, and others I can’t remember. We sent him letters and cards to let him know how much we missed him. We signed every letter with love. (You can read more about my father during my early years here.)

My Father Francis Leo Knott

Dad at Great Lakes

In the early 1960s, Dad transferred to Great Lake Illinois just a three to three and half hour drive away. He came home the standard 30 days a year plus at least a weekend every month. His presence often gave me contradictory feelings. As the oldest, I was the man of the house except for those 30 days. Dad relieved me of that responsibility year-round since he came home often enough to influence events throughout the year. Thinking back, I probably resented the demotion. His tour at Great Lakes lasted three years before he received orders to the USS Kearsarge (CV33).

1966 – 2002

I joined the Navy in 1966. Either join the Navy or let the Army draft me. I spent boot camp in San Diego, California. I spent a few days with my father while I was there. One day, he took me to see his ship, the aircraft carrier, the USS Kearsarge. He gave me a tour of the ship. I transferred to a school on Treasure Island a few weeks later, and he went to Great Lakes for his last assignment before retiring.

He and I were rarely home together even after he retired in 1970. After finishing the Navy schools, it was I who had only 30 days leave a year to spend at home, though my duty assignments overseas often prevented spending those days with my parents.

Things changed after I retired in 1992. My wife and I and two children settled in Maryland. A long drive enabled us to spend many holidays. These short visits brought my father and me closer together than any of the longer 30-day leaves ever did. I lost him on Thanksgiving Day, November 28, 2002.

My Father-in-Law

I met my Father-in-Law in 1973. My wife and I had dated a few times before she introduced us. To say he intimidated me is an understatement. I was 160 pounds on a spindly 6-foot frame. He was an imposing man, big framed, confident, and well versed with firearms. The later I learned when he talked of the shooting events he had won.

He exuded confidence while I shivered in his presence the first few times we spoke. I remember the first time he called me a “Damned Yankee” shook my timbers. He claimed I was the reason the Cowboys lost a Super Bowl to the Steelers. I think he meant the Baltimore Colts. Other times he acted angry, perhaps because I, from Illinois, and a sailor dated his daughter. In time, it became an inside joke we shared until he passed in 2007. In time, I became comfortable in his presence and enjoyed our conversations.

Father’s Day today

My Father and my Father-in-Law were men I spent far less time with than I now wish I had. They left indelible imprints on my life. Men of integrity who honored their commitment to family and country. They created this holiday to honor men such as my father and my father-in-law.

To the millions of fathers, may you have a wonderful and memorable Father’s Day!

Let us not forget women who are, both, mother and father to those in their lives.

Do you have a favorite memory of your father? Tell me using the comments form.