Another story provided by willibeaux

 

   Well when we got to Seoul City, the weather was foggy and we couldn’t land.  So we had to turn around and come back to Taegu which is 275 miles from Seoul.  We landed at Taegu at 8:00 PM Korea Time and sat around until 11:30 PM before the Air Force decided what they were going to do with us.  They finally decided to let us stay the night, but they didn’t have room for all of us.  So half of us had to sleep in the Service Club on the furniture. (All the time it’s rainin’ cats and dogs and some GI came out of a tent and urinated right in front of us.) It wasn’t too bad though, because it was raining and we were fortunate enough to have a roof over our heads. (The dang roof leaked like a sieve).

   We left Taegu at 1:00 PM Korea Time Friday morning and arrived at Seoul at 2:45 PM.  We waited there in Seoul until 3:45 PM for transportation to Kimpo AFB which is about 15 miles north of Seoul.  We arrived at Kimpo at 4:30 PM and bedded down in the transient tents.  Saturday morning we left for Group Headquarters for assignments to our squadron.  There is only one bad thing so far and that is Ed and I were split up.  We both should have gone to the 67th Recon Tech. Sqdn, but he went there and I went to the 12th Tac. Recon. Sqdn (NP).  He is right down the road from me and we are going to try to get together as much as possible. (Raining cats and dogs the whole time.)

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

   Well here is something funny I want to tell you about. We rode over to midnight chow on a "tug". A tug is a little tractor like vehicle that is used to tow aircraft around. On the way over to the mess hall this kid named Ham from my section drove it over. One guy was sitting on the hood, another on the right rear fender and I was sitting on the left rear fender. We parked it in front of the mess hall and went to chow. When we came back we all took the same positions and Ham still took the drivers seat.
   Well the kid that was sitting on the hood decided that he was going to drive. In plain words he had his back to the front of the tug and he would have to work the pedals backwards from the normal way you drive. You know how you move your right foot from the gas to the left to the brake pedal. Well he had to move his right foot to the right to the break pedal as he was sitting backwards. Ham was operating the clutch and shifting gears.
   We got to going pretty good across the apron and when we got to our side, this kid started to maneuver the tug around and in and out of the aircraft sitting there. Well he swerved to miss an oxygen bottle cart and was heading straight for a ditch. Instead of remembering that (this part is really funny) he had to work everything opposite from normal driving, he pushed the panic switch. Instead of moving his right foot to the right to engage the brake pedal, he thought he had his foot on the brake pedal and kept pressing harder.

   That old tug really took off and we hit that there a flying. Yes we did. Wal that there old tug stopped dead and we all flew through the air. I landed in the middle of the road in a running stance and really had to keep moving to retain my balance. The driver did a tumble-somersault over the hood and I don’t know what all. Poor old Ham ended up in that there ditch on top of the other passenger.

   Luckily none of us were hurt, but it was so funny the way it happened that we all busted out laughing. Honey if you had seen it you would have gone into stitches. That old tug really gouged a hole in the bank of the ditch. We pushed all of the dirt back into the hole and covered it up.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

We left Parks about 8:00 AM PST (Feb. 6 1954) and arrived at Fort Mason, San Francisco about 11:00 AM PST.  We boarded USNS General ET Collins and sailed at 2:00 PM PST.  The ship cruised around the harbor for about 1/2 hour in order to give us one last look at Frisco. (as we sailed past Alcatraz, some wise a** called out “ if you don’t want to go to Korea, jump overboard and start swimming.”) We then sailed under the famed Golden Gate Bridge and set sail for Yokohama.  The water was calm at first, but then the ship started a gradual pitch.  I didn’t feel like eating much supper, so I went below and went to bed early.  Sunday morning I got up early and was feeling s little giddy.  I went up on deck, got some air and felt a little better.  About 11:00 AM I went down into the compartment (compartment had 165 men in it) which was pretty crowded and had my first taste of sea sickness.  I retired into the sack.  Along about dinner time, the compartment sergeant tapped me and assigned me to the PX detail.  I was fortunate enough mot to get KP the whole voyage.

Well hon on the way up to the PX, I had another spell of seasickness and had to "head for the rail".  Well after that I ate some chow and felt a little better.  Monday morning I woke up, ate a little chow and "headed for the rail".  I went to bed early because the wind got strong and the ship started to roll and pitch both.  Tuesday morning, I woke up, went on the PX detail and felt all right.  After hauling up the boxes for the PX, the sailor I was working for asked me if I could type and I told him yes.  We got a typewriter and and I had to type up a stock card for every item sold in the PX.  We were sitting on the stern end of the ship and that end was really bouncing around.  I got sick and had to head for the latrine.  I ate some crackers afterwards and felt a little better.  I got halfway through the stock cards before evening and finally called it a day.

Wed. morning I got up ate chow and "headed for the rail".  Then I went back to the sailor’s quarters (I was working in his quarters) and finished typing.  Well sweetie the weather got real rough and the "old tub" really got to bouncing up and down and back and forth.  Between the both of them I headed for the latrine.  Afterwards I ate a little and felt better.  I finished the typing and went out on deck.  Well baby the water got so rough because we hit the edge of a gale, and I mean to tell you that there tub was a really rocking and rolling.

I had to go below because I was really tired.  I woke up Thursday morning and felt all right.  I ate breakfast and didn’t get sick for a change.  The weather was calmer and nothing exciting happened so far.  Come Friday morning, the ocean got fairly calm and the ship was really riding smooth.  I got my appetite back and really started to enjoy eating again.  I didn’t get sea sick for the rest of the voyage, having finally acquired my "sea legs" and "sea stomach".

Saturday morning (13th) we hit another rough wind and the ship was really rolling.  When we went to chow, the trays were sliding in the mess hall and it was funny to see your chow sliding back and forth in front of you.  I the chow hall we stood up and ate for all meals because of the small size of the troop mess hall.  It was funny when you started to eat the other guy’s chow. (also humorous when the guy next to you upchucked in his tray). Funny no?

Well honey, on Sunday 14th the day was pretty nice and the ship was riding smooth.  I was enjoying life until I caught a cold.  It made me feel miserable.  Today the 14th we crossed the (International Date Line (180th Meridian) and skipped a whole day.  Monday the 15th to be exact.  We jumped from Sunday to Tuesday.  On Tuesday I got up and went to sick call and got some medicine for my cold.  I was feeling pretty punk and the weather got rough and it started to rain.  The trays were again sliding in the mess hall.  Wednesday (17th) the day proved to be nice and the weather and sea were calm.

I felt pretty bad though because of my cold was giving me some trouble.  Thursday (18th) was same as Wednesday only my cold started to get better.  It seemed as though the weather was going to remain nice, but Friday it got pretty rough.  The wind was howling and the "tub" was a rocking and a pitching.  I was used to it and it didn’t bother me any.  My cold was getting better and I was feeling good.

Honey on the whole voyage, I kept thinking of you and our baby and the wonderful times we were going to have when I got home.  It made me feel good to think about it.  On Saturday (20th) the weather was nice and we practiced debarkation from the ship.  Meanwhile, my cold was getting better, and we were close to Yokohama and everything was rosy considering the circumstances.

Sunday (21th) Ed and I went to church because it was the last Sunday on board ship.  It was a cloudy day but the weather wasn’t too bad.  Later on during the day, as we got closer to Japan, the sea got choppy and the wind blew hard.  It got kind of cold too.  Right now I’m listening to Eddie Fisher and he is singing The Lord’s Prayer over the Armed Forces Radio Network.  It sure is pretty honey.

On the 22nd, Monday, we arrived in Yokohama at 3:30 PM Japan time and anchored overnite in the harbor.  I wrote to you from Fuchu what I did on the 24th and 25th so I’ll just skip on up to the 25th, the day we left Fuchu Replacement Depot.  I know you won’t mind too much Darling.  I have so much more to tell you about.

A note before I begin. I originally posted this two years ago at "Happy" Jake's Right-Wing Rants a few days after the events depicted in the story. I have since left the military, but my respect for those in uniform, particularly in combat, has never waned.  I wanted to use it as an illustration of the religious beliefs (particularly Judeo-Christian) that underlie American patriotism, specifically where it pertains to the military.

 

One thing I don’t write much about is the fact that I’m a member of the United States Air Force Reserve. I do my “One Weekend a Month” (at least that’s what they tell me). I don’t dedicate too many pixels to my service not (certainly) because I am not proud of serving my country – on the contrary, I am very proud. It’s just that there are many more who have done much more than I and my service, however honorable and respectable, has not really been particularly distinguished. I will praise the soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines in the combat zone 1,000 times before I toot my own horn.

Having said all of that, I had the occasion to attend the retirement ceremony of my First Sergeant this past drill weekend. For those ignorant of Air Force terminology, the First Sergeant (often called the “First Shirt” or just “the Shirt” for reasons I haven’t discovered yet) acts as a liaison between the enlisted force and the unit Commander. His job is to pass the Commander’s policies on to the rest of the squadron (and enforce those policies), and to take up the concerns of the enlisted force with the commander. He is, at once the enlisted serviceman’s advocate to the officer corps, and the spokesman for the Commander to his troops. A good Commander and a good Shirt make for a good unit. And a lousy Commander OR a lousy Shirt have the corresponding effect. (Of course, a lousy Shirt is usually not the Shirt for long.) It’s a tough job and it takes a certain type of person to do it well. Our (now former) First Sergeant is that type of person.

The retirement ceremony was at once full of the expected pomp and circumstance one expects from a formal military ceremony; formal and dignified as the men and women in uniform were wearing the semi-formal dress uniform or the full, tuxedo-style “Mess Dress” uniform; riotously funny as the Shirt’s family, friends, officers, and co-workers gently roasted the guest of honor, and as he, in turn told stories about times when the senior enlisted members of my squadron had consumed copious amounts of “adult beverage”; and poignant as the religious traditions of the US military came out.

One ceremony in particular that I found especially moving was the flag-folding ceremony. The Shirt’s son, himself a member of the Air Force, was not in attendance because he IS one of the airmen serving overseas, right now. For his father’s retirement, this man wrote his senator to have a flag flown over the Capitol Building in Washington, DC, then expedited to Iraq so that it could be flown over the country the Shirt’s son was helping to liberate and secure. That flag was carried into the ceremony by two of our Chief Master Sergeants, unfolded, displayed to all in attendance, then re-folded as the other two Chiefs read the following:

 

“The flag folding ceremony represents the same religious principles on which our country was originally founded. The portion of the flag denoting honor is the canton of blue containing the stars representing the states our veterans served in uniform. The canton field of blue dresses from left to right and is inverted when draped as a pall on a casket of a veteran who has served our country in uniform.

“In the Armed Forces of the United States, at the ceremony of retreat the flag is lowered, folded in a triangle fold and kept under watch throughout the night as a tribute to our nation's honored dead. The next morning it is brought out and, at the ceremony of reveille, run aloft as a symbol of our belief in the resurrection of the body.

1. “The first fold of our flag is a symbol of life.

2. “The second fold is a symbol of our belief in the eternal life.

3. “The third fold is made in honor and remembrance of the veteran departing our ranks who gave a portion of life for the defense of our country to attain a peace throughout the world.

4. “The fourth fold represents our weaker nature, for as American citizens trusting in God, it is to Him we turn in times of peace as well as in times of war for His divine guidance.

5. “The fifth fold is a tribute to our country, for in the words of Stephen Decatur, ‘Our country, in dealing with other countries, may she always be right; but it is still our country, right or wrong.’

6. “The sixth fold is for where our hearts lie. It is with our heart that we pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

7. “The seventh fold is a tribute to our Armed Forces, for it is through the Armed Forces that we protect our country and our flag against all her enemies, whether they be found within or without the boundaries of our republic.

8. “The eighth fold is a tribute to the one who entered in to the valley of the shadow of death, that we might see the light of day, and to honor mother, for whom it flies on Mother's Day.

9. “The ninth fold is a tribute to womanhood; for it has been through their faith, love, loyalty and devotion that the character of the men and women who have made this country great have been molded.

10. “The tenth fold is a tribute to father, for he, too, has given his sons and daughters for the defense of our country since they were first born.

11. “The eleventh fold, in the eyes of a Hebrew citizen, represents the lower portion of the seal of King David and King Solomon, and glorifies, in their eyes, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

12. “The twelfth fold, in the eyes of a Christian citizen, represents an emblem of eternity and glorifies, in their eyes, God the Father, the Son, and Holy Ghost.

13. “When the flag is completely folded, the stars are uppermost, reminding us of our national motto, ‘In God we Trust.’

“After the flag is completely folded and tucked in, it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat, ever reminding us of the soldiers who served under General George Washington and the sailors and marines who served under Captain John Paul Jones who were followed by their comrades and shipmates in the Armed Forces of the United States, preserving for us the rights, privileges, and freedoms we enjoy today.” (from www.USHistory.org)

The effect of this ceremony is to show us what we are fighting for. It’s also good to see that there is a branch of the Federal Government that does not shun religion in general and Judeo-Christianity in particular, but actively and positively embraces it. We are a Christian nation. Period. And it’s high time that the courts and the schools and the rest of the government accept that and follow the lead of the military in embracing that Christian heritage.

It also warms my heart to see a taxpayer funded institution do something that would make apoplectic those who would take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance and remove His name and His words from the halls of government forever.

God Bless America!

HJG

   I remember when I first arrived at my basic training company and met DS Mitchell for the first time.  I can't remember what he said now, or what I said or did, but I know this:  within twenty seconds of seeing what he looked like, I was in the front leaning rest position preparing to knock out forty pushups.  That set the tone for our relationship for the rest of basic training.

   Mitchell stood about 5'7", was naturally bald, and had the temper and spirit and all-over ferocity of a kodiak bear.  He had fought in Vietnam, got out for a few years, and then came back in and within a short time, was a drill sergeant.

   He was not one to trifle with.  One of the privates, who had a real attitude problem, smarted off to Mitchell once in formation.  That afternoon, we marched down the road to one of our classes, and the private was pulled out of class.  He showed back up towards the end, and there were no more attitude problems from him for the rest of basic.  We never found out what had happened, but even the dumbest of us could not help but notice that whenever DS Mitchell showed up, the private was the most squared away of any of us.

   Mitchell loved it when one of the privates left a locker unlocked.  He even had a cadence he had made up, that we would have to sing on our way back to the barracks whenever someone goofed in that fashion:

      Shoulda locked my locker

      When I left

      The room and the locker

      Are now a mess

Whenever we heard that cadence, we knew that one of us would find his wall locker standing open and all of the contents scattered throughout the barracks.  The offender would have to run to get all his uniforms and gear gathered back up and stored properly.  He would incur ten pushups for every minute it took to accomplish the task.  I remember one guy garnering almost three hundred pushups that way.

   I never forgot to lock my wall-locker, but I did become one of the members of the 700 Club.  That was an elite organization of privates who goofed up in some way, mostly by making a safety violation.  I was coming off one of the firing ranges and had failed to put my weapon (Not a GUN) back on safety and was immediately enrolled as a member in good standing of the 700 Club.  This meant that I had the three weeks that were remaining of Basic to do 700 pushups in Mitchell's presence.  I got it done, but just barely.

   What I will remember the most about DS Mitchell the most, however, is the day I had to go through the concentration course.  Those of you who have been through basic will remember the tall ladder you had to climb.  In my mind, back then, the ladder was at least a hundred feet tall.  I was very scared of heights, and as I looked up at the ladder, of which the rungs were logs that were spaced further and further apart the higher one climbed, I was sure that there was no way I was going up there.  Mitchell was up near the top, on the left side of the ladder, and as I paused, he shouted down at me to get moving.  I yelled out that I was afraid of heights and that I couldn't do it.

   "Get up here," he yelled back at me.

   "I can't do it, Drill Sergeant." I said.

   "Damnit boy, get up here.  Move!"

   "Drill Sergeant, I...."

   I was cut off by a roar of obscenities from the drill sergeant, and he began climbing down towards me.  I suddenly realized that climbing the ladder couldn't be as bad as facing Mitchell when he was angry, and I started up.  The privates behind me were chanting my name to cheer me on and up, and Mitchell alternated between encouraging me and shouting whenever I paused.  Somehow I made it all the way up and then back down.  When I reached the bottom, I turned and set off for the next obstacle.  Before I got far, DS Mitchell shouted out my name.  I turned to look back, and he gave me a thumbs up.

   No awards I've won since then have meant as much as that simple affirmation.