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Ron Berger Page II


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Ron Berger Page III

NORMAL

MAYDAY

The eye in the sky

By

Ron Berger


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Ron Berger Page IV

Published by:

berger publishing

14662 Mountain Vista Dr.

Rancho Belago, CA 92555

951-485-3052

[email protected]

Web pagewww.bergerbooks.com

Copyright 2007 by berger publishing

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may bereproduced, stored or transmitted, by any means,without the sole, written permission of the publisher,except by a reviewer who may quote brief passagesin a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazineor journal.

Printed in the USA by:Create Space Publishing, LLC

An Amazon Company100 Enterprise Way, Suite A200Scotts Valley, CA 95066

ISBN 13 978-0-9799257-0-2ISBN 10 0-9799257-0-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2007906565

Second printing
mailto:[email protected]:[email protected]:[email protected]://www.bergerbooks.com/http://www.bergerbooks.com/http://www.bergerbooks.com/http://www.bergerbooks.com/mailto:[email protected]


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Ron Berger Page V

Rons other books

The House That Ron Built

(1-4137-8605-7) (978-1-4137-8605-7)

PublishAmerica, LLLP

Are You Being Served Yet?

(1-4241-2485-9) (978-14241-2485-5)

PublishAmerica, LLLP

P-Nut, The Love of a Dog

(1-59824-303-9) (978-1-59824-303-1)

E-Book Time, LLC


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Ron Berger Page VI


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Ron Berger Page VII

CONTENTS

Dedication . . . 1X

Acknowledgements . . . X1

Authors Note . . . X111

Dreams . . . 1

Lackland AFB, San Antonio, TX . . . 7

Keesler AFB, Biloxi, MS . . . 15

Burtonwood AFB, Warrington, England . 33

Dhahran AFB, Saudi Arabia . . . 67

Tinker AFB, Oklahoma City, OK . . . 103

Volk Field, Camp Douglass, WI . . . 107

Vandenberg AFB, Lompoc, CA . . . 115

Civilian Life . . . . . . . 123

March ARB, Moreno Valley, CA . . . . 129

Normal Civilian Maydays . . . 139

Southwest Airlines . . . 149

Over & Out . . . 153


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Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the old

timers as well as the new timers in the air

traffic control business. Those that I met at

March ARB in Moreno Valley, CA and those

I didnt in places like LAX, ONT, SFO, etc.,

are all worthy of praise from every flyer.

It is also dedicated to those thathave suffered through the Normal

Maydays that many of us encounter on a

regular basis. May this book help in

knowing that you are not alone.

Ron


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Acknowledgements

Although the last 48+ years have

diminished my memory powers, the

pictures that my mind portrays are very

clear. The Master Sergeant in England, my

tower buddies both in England and Saudi

Arabia, the Tech. Sergeant in Oklahoma all

have been live memories all these years.

All were top-notch people, as well as some

of the best tower operators around.

Even some of the officers, especially

the Major and Captain in England, were

high in my minds memory banks. Without

their help and backing, I would not be the

person I am today whatever that is.

Truly the United States of America

can be comfortable in the knowledge that

there is many more of this caliber in our

Armed Forces. This is only a smallsampling of personnel to be remembered. I

remember many more.


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Authors Note

When I first started to write this book

my idea was to relay my experiences in air

traffic control, as a control tower operator,

and show how exciting and nerve racking

this line of work could be.Reaching the mid-point of my writing

I realized that I needed more, up-to-date

information about this trade. I wrangled a

visit to the control tower at March Air

Reserve Base in Moreno Valley, California

and had a chance to interview several

operators. I learned a fact that I wouldnt

have thought of on my own and decided

that I needed to revamp the writing

somewhat.

The planes are safer than forty

years ago, was the response I received.

The older operators were able to share

their old mayday stories with me, but the

younger ones had trouble understanding

what we were talking about.


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This is actually a GREAT situation.

By no stretch of the imagination does this

mean that maydays just dont occur

anymore, but rather compared to the

number of flights going on at any one time,

the mayday rate is really quite rare.

I also do not want to downplay the

importance of the air traffic controller.

Without their presence, the skies would be

a very dangerous place indeed. It can still

be a stressful, dangerous, traumatic, nerve-racking, tense, taxing and a hectic type job

that requires straight thinking, quick action

and well grounded personnel. My hat is off

to all those in this profession.

I, therefore, decided to relate someof the maydays that I experienced in my

normal life along with my military

experiences. Im sure many of you have

gone through the same type of experiences

and so I have changed the title of the book

to Normal Mayday.


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DREAMS

One of my dreams, when I was a

young boy, was to be an airline pilot. I

could picture myself as the pilot directing

the flight of a DC-6 or some other plane

heading into the wild blue yonder. Im sure

other children had similar dreams, but mine

seemed overpowering. I even started to

look into private flight schools where I could

get my start. My other dream was to go to

California some day. I had watched

Wisconsin play in the Rose Bowl in 1953

and all you could see was sunshine and

short pants. All we had in Wisconsin was

snow. My desire became very strong

during the next two years and I just had to

find a way.


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Of course, being young, money

didnt seem to be an overriding factor in

those days. Somehow I would get the

money to fulfill my dreams. I was healthy

and didnt shy from work. After all, I had a

job since I was 10- and really wasnt

without one ever, so why worry?

The further I aged, I began to realize

that the reality of it all was that financing

just the move out of my home town would

be a considerable task. How would Ipossibly learn to fulfill my dreams when I

couldnt afford to get out of town? The

saying at the time was that, if it cost a

nickel to go around the world, I wouldnt

have enough to get out of sight.My neighbor, two doors away, had

joined the Air Force and was home on

leave. I stayed home from school one day

and we had a long talk about his

experiences so far and it dawned on me

that the answer to my dreams started that


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day. Even though I knew that being a pilot

in the Air Force would take more education

than I had, maybe just being around planes

would satisfy my itch to fly. Little did I know

the path I would have to follow to satisfy

that itch.

Upon high school graduation, I also

had dreams of becoming an engineer.

Either mechanical or electrical was the

thought, but not a train. I figured that

mechanical might be better thinkingbecause there didnt seem to be too much

of a future for an electrical engineer. The

thinking then was not very progressive and

not being able to see into the future,

mechanical seemed to be safer in the longrun.

I was accepted by the Milwaukee

School of Engineering for the fall term. All I

had to do was to find a part time job to

finance my schooling. My brother allowed

me to stay at his apartment for this


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experiment and after spending three days

looking for work, even getting the paper hot

off the press, the word was that I was too

young to get work. In Milwaukee you

needed to be 18 for work without a permit.

This whole process really

discouraged me. I wouldnt be 18 for

another four months. That would not be

soon enough for me to enter the fall term

and seemed to throw me completely out of

the picture. It didnt take me long to thinkback to my visit with my Air Force neighbor

and my next step seemed to take shape all

by itself.

A quick trip to downtown Milwaukee,

to the Air Force recruiting office, led to thecounty seat of Walworth County since the

recruiter traveled between the two. With

my mother in tow, we traveled to Elkhorn to

sign up. I was able to get all the papers

needed and was told to get them signed

and witnessed by a Notary and drive down


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to Beloit, Wisconsin on the 5th of July to

start the process of enlisting.

I was on my way to financing my way

out of town. Driving down in my car with

my friend and his girl friend, it became

apparent that definite and distinct changes

were about to happen to me. I was

separating myself from what I was used to

and entering into something that was totally

different from my lifestyle. I came to grips

quickly with this thought, and besides youdidnt have too much time to think right

then, and on the train back to Milwaukee I

had talked myself into understanding and

accepting what I was about to partake in.

The physical and swearing in didnt

take much time and then we were put on a

train bound for nowhere. Thinking that

traveling first class was the way it was

going to be from now on soon evaporated

upon leaving Saint Louis on what is warmly

referred to as The Katie Line. This train


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took three days to get to San Antonio,

Texas. It stopped at every crossing, picked

up cans of milk and generally saved fuel by

coasting most of the way. We called it the

cattle car.

Upon reaching San Antonio, I

wondered why every home we saw had

white rock roofs. Only after we backed into

the station and were escorted off the train,

did I realize that any other roofing product

would have burned up. It was hotter than Iever thought it could be. However, before

my four year tour was over, I would realize

that Texas wasnt nearly as hot as Saudi

Arabia.

My trip to realizing my dream wastaking a torturous line of travel and the

thought occurred several times that maybe I

made a mistake.


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USAF MILITARY SERVICE

LACKLAND AFB, SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Lackland AFB was not, by any

stretch of the imagination a summer

vacation spot. You had to have a mission

or duty to be there during the summertime.

The one good thing about it was that it was

right next to Kelley Air Force Base one

that had real airplanes. Of course the only

time we really saw them was when we were

on a march and got close enough to


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actually see what the real Air Force was

about. At that time we had B-36s and a

number of jet fighters. This was really the

transitional period between WW-II aircraft

and what we know of today as awesome

jets.

Actually getting that close and

personal really scared me and I began to

rethink my desires and dreams. I had

never been in an airplane before and, in

fact, really never been to an airport before.Seeing some of these massive planes,

even from a distance, gave me the shivers

and a very healthy respect of those that did

fly them. Being slim in stature, didnt lend

itself to the picture in my mind of wrestling

these big planes around in the sky.

Basic training was something that

you wouldnt want to go through again,

even though Im sure it was much easier

than the Army or Marines had. Most of

what we went through had very little to do


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with your final job in the service, but had

everything to do with whipping you into

shape. The one thing you didnt want to do

is wash out which meant you might have

to do it over or you could be sent home as a

failure. You just counted the days and the

weeks took care of themselves. Eleven

weeks seemed an eternity, but actually

went by fairly quickly.

I located another friend from home

who had gone through basic severalmonths before and was now permanent

party on the base. He had a stripe on his

arm and, of course, I was a slick sleeve.

Being basic training, the thought of calling

him sireveryone above you was a sir was hard to do. We both exchanged some

pleasantries and parted company. I never

saw him again and often wondered what his

final job in the service ended up being.

After about six weeks of marching,

drilling, KP, and other duties, this included


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guarding an empty barracks with no

weapon, just by walking around it for four

hours at night, we were herded into a large

building and given a battery of tests. There

must have been a dozen or more that we

had to attempt and then we were marched

back to our regular duties. It seemed to

take forever to get the results, plus I had

really forgotten about them until one day

the results were known. We were then

herded back to the same building andindividually interviewed. Actually the

interview consisted ofyou qualify for this,

how would you like that?

My first reaction was of relief since I

didnt qualify for cook or air policeman.

Those seemed to be two of the worst jobs

in the service. But I had no idea what a

control tower operator was either. My

answer to the interviewer was You bet,

and what is a control tower operator

anyway? Once I was given a brief


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description of the position, my dream

started to come back to me. Not that I

would be a pilot, but rather, Id be as close

as I could be to airplanes without being a

pilot. I thought my lucky stars were starting

to shine again. How could I be this lucky?

I had no idea of how all this would

come about, but I knew that the Air Force

would have a plan for me and I just had to

be patient. A few days before basic training

was over, we were given an insight intowhere our next assignment would be. I had

no idea where Keesler AFB was and I only

had a slight recall where Mississippi was.

How to get there was also pretty much left

up to you. I was learning quickly whatothers had already experienced. I was

doing some traveling the likes of which no

one in my whole family had ever

experienced. I would have to make a

number of decisions and do them quickly.


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I reached home via train and decided

that I would depart, after a short leave, also

by train. My leave was short, since I hadnt

really any leave time accumulated as yet

and I tried to make the best of it. It seemed

that in the short time I was away, everyone

realized they could get along without me.

This was a blow to me and it was even

more so several years later when I returned

after being gone a long time. You just cant

return home once youve left.It should be noted that, at least at

that time, Chicago was a place where all

trains stopped and none continued on

through. Once you arrived at one station,

you more than likely had to find your way toanother station to catch your connecting

train. Being in a large city after coming

from a small town can be very daunting to

say the least. I always had the fear that I

wouldnt be able to report on time and be in

a lot of hot water. I was always defensive


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because I didnt want to look like, or act

like, a country bumpkin. Having to be told

something that nearly everyone else would

think was common sense was threatening

to me and I was always on my guard.

Once I got on the train to Mississippi

I figured my worries were over for a little

while. We were only about ten miles

outside of Chicago when the conductor told

me that I couldnt sit in my assigned seat. I

showed him my ticket, but he said that seatwas always reserved for him. I had the

feeling that I would be put off the train at the

next stop. The conductor found me another

and the rest of the trip was uneventful.


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KEESLER AFB,

BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI

Upon arriving at Biloxi, everything

seemed to be just right. The train station

was just outside the base and the town was

the other side of the station. You could

walk everywhere you wanted. I had taken

my bags to the barracks and decided to

venture into town. Several of us fromLackland arrived about the same time and

went into town together. Upon crossing the


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tracks into town, one member started to lag

behind. Thinking he was tired from the

travel, he assured us he was alright. As we

rounded the first corner in town, the thought

of having a cup of coffee came to our minds

and it was agreed to enter the first caf to

get one. I was surprised when the tired

one said that he really didnt want a cup.

Thinking that he may not have the money

for a cup, I offered to pay and basically

started to drag him in.Being new to the South and the rest

of the world for that matter, thinking that

some things may be different from your little

home town never entered my mind. Just as

my tired friend stepped one foot into the

caf a policeman, who was having coffee,

shoved him out again. We were astonished

and sat down to think about it. As we

looked around we started to see signs

saying colored and white on

bathrooms, drinking fountains, store doors,


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etc., and then it dawned on us that our

tired friend was colored. He wasnt tired,

but understood where he was and what

was expected of him. We never gave it

much thought because he was from

Minnesota and Im sure nothing like this

was rampant there. We decided that if they

wouldnt let our friend in with us, then they

didnt want our business either. We all left

and never went back into town during our

13 week stay.We had an interesting indoctrination

before we started Air Traffic Control

School. Our first week was donated to

kitchen police or KP. They said that by

doing it this way we wouldnt have to pullany KP while we were in actual school.

Every day we were up and on the road by 4

AM. Marching in a group with flashlights

and arm bands. We werent off duty until

about 9 PM and then it was arm bands and

flashlights again. Each day some three or


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four people got off KP because they didnt

need that many. However, my name never

came up. Each day was the same as the

previous day. You just kept shuffling along

until the seven days were up and you could

rest.

The rest wasnt for long. Our

classes started the next day and I was on

the C shift which meant that we ate lunch

around 3:30 in the afternoon and our dinner

was at midnight. This was the schedule forthe entire 13 weeks.

The entire process of teaching us to

be air traffic controllers was based on one

and two week long segments of which you

had a test after each one. If you failed onetest you were put back in the following class

so you could take it over. That put a lot of

fear into a number of us since we didnt

want to be left behind as our buddies went

on through. They taught us everything from

weather to the art of talking on a


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microphone. We didnt get any real hands-

on experience and since we were at school

at night, even the practice control tower

was invisible to our naive eyes. All that you

could really see was blinking lights which

really didnt mean much at the time. It was

frightening to climb the open stairway all the

way to the tower at night. Youre just

hoping that there is another step there after

the one youre on. Needless to say my

eyesight really wasnt that good at night. Ididnt have any trouble during the day, but

until I was familiar with my surroundings my

eyes didnt pick up all the details.

As the schooling droned on, we also

had marching competitions that had to becompleted. One was held on a Saturday

morning and we marched around our

barracks compound until one group after

another was eliminated. Of course, if we

would have been smart, we could have

been out near the front, but nooooo we


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had to be the best marchers and

consequently we circled the block about a

dozen times before we were given the first

place prize which was the afternoon off.

The rest also got the afternoon off and they

were able to start much earlier.

The Christmas holidays came up

and we were given a period of time off for

whatever we wanted to do. Some stayed at

the base and others, like me, made plans to

go home. I had met another airman thatdidnt live to far from my home in Wisconsin

and he had indicated that he was also

going home. Since he had a car I asked if I

could ride along. He was gracious enough

to allow me to do so and I did share someof the driving responsibilities. However, I

had been thinking about it for some time

and decided to drive myself back to

Mississippi in my own car.

This was going to be another

challenge since I hadnt even driven outside


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of the state before. Little did I know that

this would be the first of many long distance

drives I would make both in the service and

out. I had great faith in my 1949 Plymouth

and we made good time coming back. I

was only going to be at Keesler for another

month or so and then would be through with

school and on to somewhere else. During

our Christmas leave, our Airmans Club

burned down on the base and our one

respite from the drudgery of school wastaken away from us. This club was better

than the Officers Club and everyone was

saddened by its demise.

During my schooling we had been

asked if we had a preference as to wherewe served with the Air Force. My first

preference was England (I dont know why)

and then any place in Europe. When I got

my orders they directed me to APO 124

England. I can tell you one thing - APO 124

is not on the map of England. After a lot of


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digging, I finally found out that APO 124

represented a place called Burtonwood

AFB which was located just outside the

town of Warrington which was directly

half-way between Manchester and

Liverpool. Now I knew exactly where I was

to go, but had no idea of how to get there.

I enjoyed my 30 day leave, but the

scary thought of what lay ahead was

always on my mind. They paid you travel

money, but based only on the shortestdistance and the cheapest fare. That

meant that there wasnt much money to

make too many decisions. Actually, while I

was home, I saw a Greyhound bus go

through town and it said New York on it.Can you imagine? This town of 5,101

people and about 1200 miles from New

York had my connection. I made the ticket

purchase and tried to slow down the time

before I had to use it.


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Already I was noticing that the

regulars that I hung out with in high school

didnt seem to care what I was doing any

more and just didnt have the time for me.

This was a blow since I had a lot to tell

them and I was anxious for their

companionship. However, they had their

own schedules and I was the one that was

interfering with their plans. I thought since I

would be gone for three years, they could at

least spare me a little time. The handwriting was on the wall and I boarded the

Greyhound to never-never land.

The bus stopped at the station

around 10 PM so a lot of my trip was at

night. My Dad waved and my Mother hadtears in her eyes, but I was off to see the

world. My Mother was really frightened for

me, but didnt say anything until long after I

was out of service. You can imagine how

she might feel. She was only out of the

state several times and that was to Iowa


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and Minnesota. And then only about thirty

miles inside those states. I think she

thought I might fall off the face of the earth.

The bus trip droned on until we got

into Pennsylvania. The bus driver was

having trouble shifting and requested a

different bus at the next stop. We left

Wisconsin in one of those large cruisers

that had split level seating (they were the

cream of the bus crop) and ended up

getting into a regular bus with none of theglamour of our former conveyance. It was

like renting a Cadillac and getting a Ford.

Oh well, it got us there without any more

problems.

Entering New York City was anexperience all by itself. The City probably

had at least a half dozen Greyhound

stations and I get off at the first one.

Having no idea where I am or how to get to

where Im going, I am thankful that there

was an information booth there with military


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personnel that saved the day. I needed to

go to Manhattan Beach, which was a

military gathering point and the information

people directed me to go up the street

about 3 blocks and then down the subway

entrance and take a certain train until the

end of the line. This was about two in the

morning and it was freezing out and my

duffel bag weighed a ton. There was snow

and ice on the walks and I had trouble just

standing up to say nothing about trying tocarry my duffel bag with my very heavy

winter uniform coat on. One time it slipped

off my shoulder and I couldnt lift it back up

again. Someone, I dont know who, walked

by and stopped to help. I was reallythankful since I was losing ground to others

going the same place.

A subway? I had only read about

the New York subway. Once we were on,

the urge to fall asleep was overpowering.

However, being the kind of person that I


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was, I had to stay awake all the way. I

could have slept since the information

people were right. It was the end of the line

and it just wouldnt go any further. It was

turning daylight when we arrived just

outside the base. It was still very cold. The

base was right next to the Atlantic Ocean

and there was ice on the water. I was

hoping that my stay here would be short. I

had no inclination to visit any spots in New

York City. It was just too big for my littlebrain to grasp. So I wiled away the days

until I received word that I would be leaving

the next day for McGuire AFB in New

Jersey.

The bus ride took several hoursbefore we reached McGuire. This was a

real Air Force Base. They had all sorts of

planes there. We checked into operations

and found out that several of us would not

be getting on this flight and would have to

wait until the next day. As I was sitting


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there pondering what would happen next, I

spotted an AWOL bag (small carry-on) that

had the same AF serial number as mine,

except for the last number (we had to print

our number on the side for easy

identification). I had to find out who owned

the number next to mine and discovered

that it belonged to a person who lived about

15 miles from my home town. Anyway he

got to fly out that night and I had to wait

until the next day.The next afternoon we were off. Our

first stop would be Newfoundland to refuel.

Since our landing pattern was over water

we had to, by regulation, wear a life

preserver. Just prior to landing we weretold to put on our Mae West. They were

fairly bulky life preservers and added

considerably to your front end posture. We

had to put them on over our very bulky and

heavy winter overcoat which was quite a

chore. We all remarked that if we had to


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ditch we would surely sink once our coat

soaked up the water. Im sure that two Mae

West life preservers would have been

needed to hold up the extra weight of a wet

overcoat.

The snow was so high on both sides

of the runway that you had no idea where

you were. Once we were at the terminal,

we were allowed to get out and stretch as

well as grab a bite to eat. It was truly a

cattle call but you were already tired andhungry so you didnt mind the insensitivity

of it all. After the refueling was completed

we were again back in the air. Of course

our take-off was over water so the same

procedure was required. It was good toclose your eyes for a time, but you always

had in your mind that everything below you

was water that was very close to freezing.

It was a feeling you werent comfortable

with and wouldnt be until you landed again.


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Our final stop was Prestwick,

Scotland. Everything seemed to go

smoothly until a minute or so before touch-

down when my riding partner began to

throw up. This prompted me to have the

same thoughts, but, thank heaven, the urge

quickly subsided. I really dont know why

we landed there, but this was the first taste

of being in a foreign country and that was

probably why, since they were very friendly

and accommodating. We had three days towait for our train to depart for Warrington so

we had nothing to do in a country that really

didnt accept US currency. It dawned on

us, as we finally located a place to eat after

they rolled up the sidewalks, that maybe

we would have to wash dishes to pay for

our meal. Regardless, we wanted to eat

first and figure out how to pay second.

Once we were filled, the time to face the

music came. I, along with my buddies, was

wonderfully surprised at the outcome. I had


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approached the cashier and just opened my

wallet and said, I have no idea how much it

was, but just take what you need. She

looked at us in a motherly fashion and

said not to worry. She proceeded to

explain the exchange rate and told us what

every coin was worth in their money. I

believed her to be telling the truth since the

comparison was real close to ours. She

also told us to be careful once we got to

England because she believed they wouldtake advantage of our stupidity.

As we took the train towards our final

destination the sky went from clear and

sunny to dark and gloomy. We were

entering an area that was heavilyindustrialized and coal burning was their

major source of energy. It left coal dust on

everything. The seats in the train coaches

were covered with it and you could taste it

once you got out. Fog was also another

factor to deal with. That created enough


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moisture in the air that the coal dust stuck

to everything it landed on. The only saving

feature was that, we were told, it rained

quite often and that helped wash off the

coal dust. It didnt help the inside things,

but when your wet coat made contact with a

dirty seat it picked up a lot of black dust.


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BURTONWOOD AFB,

WARRINGTON, ENGLAND

We spent our first night on the base

in the transit barracks. This also was

somewhat of a shock. We arrived hungry

and were told how to get to the chow hall.

This was a case of catching a bus, riding for

several miles and a dozen stops until we

finally reached the chow hall. Once we

entered we noticed that there werent many

people inside. We picked up a tray and

started through the line. We were quickly


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told that the chow hall was closed. We

inquired where we might get something to

eat we were directed to the bowling alley

across the street which had a coffee shop

in it. Thinking that finally we would be able

to hold off the hunger pains real soon we

stood in line for about 20 minutes. I noticed

that the menu indicated prices which I

wasnt familiar with. However, just

watching the burgers being cooked had us

glued to persist. We placed our order andhad to pay upon ordering. When we

handed them some dollar bills, we were told

that they couldnt take them and we had to

have script. Where do you get script at

that time of night and couldnt they make an

exception for us just once? No, was the

answer and we were back on the bus to the

transit barracks with empty stomachs and

our sad story.

An older sergeant came to our

rescue. He was the one to tell us how to


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get to the mess hall in the first place so he

apologized at the erroneous information

and sold us some script so we could get

something to eat at the bowling alley.

Another trip on the bus, standing in line and

finally getting something to eat was worth

the effort. This was another lesson we

learned on-the- job and we were

wondering how many more we were in for.

The next day we made it to the chow

hall on time for breakfast and once backwere given directions to our squadrons

barracks. These were WW II Quonset huts,

whose half round structures were all over

the base. They had been there since the

beginning of WW II and never updated.They were cold and small. At least six

people shared a hut and each had an oil

burning stove for heat. You needed the

heat most of the time. If you werent cold,

you were wet and your clothes stood up in

the corner while they dried. We learned


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quickly that if it rained on a certain saints

birthday, it would rain for 40 days and 40

nights. It really did and your clothes really

never dried out before you had to use them

again.

Upon checking into our squadrons

headquarters the next day, I found out that I

could either go into GCA (Ground Control

Approach radar) or the control tower. I

chose the tower since they seemed to have

more people and maybe I wouldnt have towork so hard at something I knew very little

about. My supervisor was a Master

Sergeant who ran a very tight tower. He

showed me around and assigned me to a

team. Our work schedule started off on aswing shift (5PM to Midnight) and then

came back the next day at noon till 5PM,

the third day from 7AM till noon and then

came back the same day at midnight until

7AM. Once you completed one round you

would be off for three days. This allowed


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for us to get to know some of the places

around the base without having to hurry.

This schedule also allowed us to go to

midnight chow which was one our most

favorite meals. We may miss breakfast at

times, but never tried to miss midnight

chow. This is where the famous shit-on-a-

shingle was served and they made it like

no other.

Learning the Kings English was

one of the hardest things I had to do. Whenyou start in the tower, you began at B

position. This position is responsible to get

the clearances for all IFR (instrument flight

rules) flights and write them down on tiny

long strips of paper to be put in front of theA position controller the one with the

mike. After about the first three or four

words I was completely lost. Nothing the

Air Control Center operator said to me

registered. It was like learning to listen to

Russian. I would have to ask again and


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again for the same information and have

them speak real slow. Then I would have

to repeat it to make sure everything was

copied correctly. This wore on both our

nerves.

It wasnt too long that some of it

began to sink in. Soon I realized that

much of the information they gave us was

repeated time and again. It got so you

could write it down before they gave it.

Only the altitude seemed to change andjust a few other specifics. Now the position

was becoming familiar and I began to enjoy

the job. Of course, once you start to enjoy

something you are usually given something

else to do. Now I was given the opportunityto talk to the planes. That, in itself, wasnt

as easy as it sounds. When you talk with a

person your hands do some of the

communicating. When you talk with a pilot,

he cant see your hands. Nothing could be

more embarrassing than telling a pilot to


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park his plane over there and be pointing

toward the spot. Of course, it didnt take

many of those goofs to get your hands in

your pockets and keep them there.

Another problem that messed with

your mind was that you had numerous

speakers facing you and all of them were

on. When you were busy, several of these

speakers would be blaring at the same time

and you had to hear them all. You had to

determine which needed answering firstand what information to give him.

Obviously a plane about to land had the

priority and the one wanting a radio check

could wait a minute. Many times when

there seemed to be an awful lot of radiotraffic you would key all the transmitters just

to answer one call. This would let the

others know that they werent the only ones

asking for your attention. It takes

considerable practice to get used to all this

confusion and make sense of it. Also it


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starts to impress on you that just one slip in

writing a clearance or talking with a pilot

could lead to terrible accidents.

We always had a tape recorder

going in the tower and a number of times it

had to be played back to exonerate us from

giving misinformation. The tape would run

for 24 hours and then a new one would be

installed. The old one would be kept for

some time and then re-used. You never

wanted to forget to record yourconversations. Actually it recorded only on

two channels so if you received a call on a

different channel, you would key a

recording channel as well so at least your

side of the conversation was recorded.This procedure saved our necks several

times. Its surprising how many officer

pilots failed to properly respond to enlisted

controllers. They knew that we were

enlisted Air Force personnel and they were

the cream of the crop. Some just didnt


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take to being told to do something by

someone probably not worthy to polish their

shoes. There was always the common

complaint from the high and mighty about

the lowly and insignificant controller.

We were very fortunate to have a

Major in charge of our squadron who stood

up for his controllers. Being a Major wasnt

a very high rank, but on this base he also

happened to be the only instructor pilot. He

was in charge of making sure the basecommander, who was a General, had

sufficient flight hours to keep his flight pay.

This gave him more clout than the average

Major would ever have. Our commander

would also check out all his controllers andif they passed his test, you were one of

his. Needless to say this was not an easy

test, but once passed you didnt have to

worry about any other pilot complaint. If a

complaint was filed, he would usually call to

get our side of the story and then tell the


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pilot he was wrong and to not do it again.

One day the General decided to hold a drill

to see how sharp everyone was in case of

an attack. He had people going around

throwing bags filled with flour signifying a

hand grenade. These enemytroops went

to the GCA trailer, opened the door and

threw in a flour grenade. The operator on

duty called the Major and the Major called

the General and the games were shut

down. If you have ever been in a darkroom watching radar and then have

someone open the door to the bright light,

quickly close it and run off, you would know

what transpired. It took several minutes for

that operator to regain his eyesight to beable to again look at the radar screen. If

the timing and conditions had been different

a plane on final would have lost vital

instructions to land safely. The Major told

the General that he would shut down the


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whole field if the games continued. They

didnt and the field stayed open.

To pass the Majors test you had to

be ready for a grilling, not only in the tower,

but in the air. You had to be recommended

by your shift supervisor and then it would

start. Mine started on a swing shift and

almost as soon as we reported, the second

in command came up to test me on my

knowledge of tower procedure. This first

test did not go well. I had just finishedhanging wallpaper for my shift supervisor in

his off base home and really didnt know

this was coming. Needless to say, my

performance was lacking and it was

decided to try again the next shift. Mysupervisor and I spent the better part of our

seven hour shift going over the procedures.

The next day everything went smooth. I

had passed the first part of the test. Now

the hard part was about to happen. I was

lucky that the second in command also


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handled this part. He and another pilot

would take off and pretend to get lost, loose

power, disobey tower orders, and anything

else they could cook up. How you handled

each problem was graded and after the

test, the results were known to you. We

had a meeting and the strong and weak

points would be discussed. You were then

watched to see how you performed during

normal operation. Passing all phases of

this test qualified you for another step up inyour AFSC. These numbers told everyone

your qualifications, expertise and theater of

operations. Mine went from a 27231 to

27251 by passing the tests.

Now, technically, I could operate anyposition in the tower. It wasnt long after

this testing that another step up was issued.

This one didnt require any testing, but only

a recommendation from your immediate

supervisor. A friend of mine and me were

given the number of 27251L. This now


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meant that both of us qualified to be shift

supervisors, but didnt have the rank that

the regulations required. We both took over

teams and held them for the remainder of

our tower days.

During my time as team supervisor a

number of experiences happened that

would make most people start taking Paxil

right away. However, this type of pill hadnt

been invented yet and we just had to drink

more coffee. Coffee was a necessity andthere was always a pot going. One time we

cleaned the pot by scraping the inside and

pulling out what appeared to be the skin of

an elephant. Once this was completed,

with some difficulty I might add, the coffeenever quite tasted the same. That didnt

prevent us from drinking it, but the taste

was definitely different. Coffee was needed

to keep us on edge and ready for anything.

You never knew when trouble would rear its


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ugly head and you would be right in the

middle.

Burtonwood was a supply and

maintenance base and lots of repairs were

being achieved daily. Many times this

would necessitate a test flight and the

results generally were anything but

rewarding. One such test flight resulted in

a jet fighter, somewhere over Scotland,

couldnt find his way back to Burtonwood.

Apparently his instruments went haywireand he needed proper bearings to get back.

The radio transmission was very weak,

since he was many miles from base, and

just trying to understand him was a

problem. After about ten minutes of weakand garbled transmissions we were able to

correctly give him headings to home. He

eventually landed safely and we were

written up in the Base newspaper as

saving him and his plane. Thank heaven

these incidents didnt happen every day.


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One New Years Eve most of the

tower personnel wanted to party, but

someone had to cover the swing shift.

Since I had virtually cured myself from

festive and excessive drinking, my partying

wasnt really required to welcome in the

New Year. And since I had the

qualifications, I could take over the shift all

by myself. I knew it wouldnt be busy and,

in fact, I only had one incoming flight

scheduled the entire shift.Burtonwood AFB was also noted for

the Weather Squadron that flew daily, 12

hour missions over the Atlantic Ocean to

record weather statistics. When I first

arrived they were flying B-29s and soonchanged to B-50s. These were more

advanced, but looked pretty much like the

B-29s. The longer these planes flew, the

more trouble they were having and for any

weather plane to come back without

declaring an emergency was a rarity. This


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was almost standard procedure. Once we

knew what the estimated time of arrival, we

would call the fire department and put them

on notice. We never had a problem before,

but we were getting used to everything

turning out alright.

Around an hour before their

scheduled return it started snowing. This

was the first time I had seen it snow in

England and was told that it was a freaky

thing at the base anyway. As the timepassed and the B-50 got closer, the snow

seemed to increase. I had trouble seeing

the start of the runway. Just before the

plane touched down, I could see that the

wings were at a 45 degree angle to therunway. This was not good. Planes need

to land level with the runway. My entire

career flashed before me as all I could see

is that there was going to be a hell of an

accident on New Years Eve. Here I was,

the only person in the tower, dressed in


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civilian clothes (I was already in base

operations in my civvies when I was asked

to fill in for the person who wanted to party)

and I knew I couldnt talk my way out of this

one. The B-50 landed safely and I had to

count my lucky stars and give thanks for my

good fortune. When I saw the person I

substituted for, I let him know that I would

never do that again. I think he understood

and realized that he could have gotten into

a lot of trouble as well.My friend, who also now was a team

supervisor, preceded me on the tower shift

schedule. Twice, on two consecutive days,

I reported to the tower to relieve him only to

find it filled with upper brass listening to

the tape recorder. Apparently there had

been two accidents, not serious to the

planes or pilots, but serious enough to

warrant investigation. This told me that it

could happen to anyone, anytime and I had

been lucky so far. Everything he and his


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shift mates had done apparently was by the

book and they soon vacated the tower.

Some days it seemed like no one

wanted to fly and others it seemed like

everyone wanted to fly. The weather had a

lot to do with this decision. Many days

were filled with clouds and rain and only a

few saw the sun in all its glory. For some

odd reason, for which I cant recall, my

friend and I were on shift together and the

only ones in the tower. That afternoon,during our five hour stint, we had 500

operations. An operation was one landing

or one takeoff. We had a lot of base planes

doing touch and goes. This practice

included a short landing and an immediatetakeoff again, which counted as two

operations. When you realize that this pace

averaged 100 operations every hour you

start getting the picture of how busy things

were. We had planes just going around the

traffic pattern as well as incoming and


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outgoing planes that had to be worked in

between. I will always remember that day

because of the heavy traffic and how well

he and I handled the load. Everything

seemed to click just right. It was one of

those career defining days.

Several months later, we had a

surprise arrival. The Strategic Air

Command (SAC) was famous for surprise

operations and that day thirty six B-36s

were scheduled to arrive in the next thirtyminutes. When they did arrive they literally

blocked out the sun. It all came about right

at the end of my afternoon shift and we

were required to stay on to keep continuity

going. It needs to be said that if there wasa SAC operation going on there was always

a SAC operations officer present in the

tower and he was in charge. He monitored

everything said and if the pilots requested

something he didnt like, he would take the

mike and tell him no. It also didnt matter


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whether the Operations Officer was a

Captain and the Pilot was a Colonel. The

Captain was in charge, period. The

parking ramp was totally packed. The

planes were wing tip to wing tip. They

remained for four or five more days and

allowed any personnel that were interested

to go through the planes.

If you have ever been to an air show

and had a chance to go through a B-36

youll know that the term go through reallydoesnt apply. You can visit the front half of

the airplane or the back half, but to get from

one to the other was by means of a sled.

This sled was positioned over the bomb bay

and you had to be on your back and pullyourself along. Needless to say, we

werent allowed to give that a try. It was

enough to just see how big and awesome

this plane really was. Nothing equaled its

size in any countrys air force. It seemed

massive.


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As my luck would have it, the

departure operation was on my first shift

back. I arrived at five in the afternoon and

we did our thing when about two hours

later, these same SAC operations people

came up to the tower. These people just

dont come up to pass the time of day or

just watch airplanes take off and land.

Their mission was evident the moment they

walked in. It also needs to be said that no

one was allowed in the tower except thoseauthorized. However, no one questioned

these folks. Soon the activity around the

planes heated up and the pilots started to

call in for taxi instructions. We had been

told that all would take off withoutinterruption and any other aircraft would just

have to wait. This operation took well over

an hour just to take off.

One of the last B-36s to leave called

back to report engine problems and he

would have to return. I dont know if any of


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you know how much fuel these planes hold,

but the pilot estimated that it would take him

FIVE HOURS to pump off enough fuel to

make the plane light enough to land again.

After a few minutes conferring with

Manchester Air Traffic Control Center, a

100 mile holding pattern was established

for him to dump his fuel. I need to clarify

that the fuel evaporates quickly and nothing

hit the ground. About this time the SAC

operations officer told the pilot how to dumpthe fuel faster and he expected the plane

back on the ground within three hours. All

the pilot could do was say yes sir and get

on with the program. Everything ended fine

and the repairs were made and by my nextshift the B-36 had long left.

Usually one day a year was

dedicated to what is commonly called an

air show. This one was no different from

the others. Plenty of USAF planes as well

as the British Air Force and crowds of


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civilians, as well as service personnel

roamed the ramps.

Normal air traffic was limited and

only a few flights were allowed in

Burtonwoods air space. However, several

fighters did some high speed passes to thrill

the crowd to the crowds delight.

However, one of the fighters had a problem

lowering his landing gear and made several

passes by the tower for us to verify the

exact position of all the gear.An F-84 fighter had a tricycle

landing gear meaning two main wheels

and one nose gear. This particular jets

problem was his left main which only

extended down to a 45 angle. Our activerunway determined by the direction of the

wind would make it so the fighter would

land pointing left of the crowd.

This pilot was the same one that had

been lost over Scotland and was a very

competent airman, the pilot of this fighter.


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He felt competent he could land it safely

using just two of the three wheels. This

meant if the plane listed over to the left and

the damaged gear collapsed the plane

would plow to the left right toward the

crowds viewing the show aircraft. This

scenario was all most too much to fathom.

The plane was running low on fuel

and had to land. Our fire department was

notified, but couldnt move fast enough to

do much good. The plane landed on thetwo good wheels and when it finally came

to a stop, leaned over on the left gear, but it

did not collapse.

The sweat stopped pouring and we

could finally take a deep breath. I dont

believe anyone in the crowd on the ramp

had any idea what just happened or what

didnt just happen. That was enough

show for me and was real happy when

that shift was over.


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Burtonwood wasnt just an Air Force

Base, so we did have various civilian flights

nearly every day. B.O.A.C. (British

Overseas Airways Corp.) or Bo-ac as we

called them was one of our regulars. This

gave us a taste of how foreign pilots talk

and how they interpreted our instructions.

English was the universal language of air

traffic control but the different accents of

English were like other foreign languages.

We also had British Royal Air Force pilotsland occasionally and that gave us all a

chance to see the different airplanes of the

Royal Air Force. They took some liberties

with us occasionally and pretended to not

understand our English. One RAF fighter

pilot wanted a compass check down our

inactive runway one night. This was a

standard procedure to make sure their

compasses were registering correctly.

Well, this Bloke flew over this runway at

about 500 miles an hour and then decided


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to stand it on its tail and shoot out of sight.

This runway was very seldom used since it

was much shorter than the active one and it

was right next to the bowling alley. About a

minute later, our commanding officer called

us on the phone and demanded to know

what the hell was that? That particular

procedure was forbidden. All I said was

that it was an RAF pilot who apparently

didnt understand the Kings English.

Nothing more was said. That same pilotasked for proper clearance to climb to

40,000 feet. I called the control center and

got permission for him to climb to 20,000

and call passing 10,000. He returned my

message relay by saying he was already at29,000 feet. So much for understanding

how air traffic control works.

Generally Base Operations and the

tower personnel work very closely. They

give us information and we give them

different information so they can complete


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their work. One day we were told that an F-

100 was about to call in for landing

instructions. This was because his regular

base was socked in with fog. We had

never seen an F-100 before so this was

going to be a treat. The pilot was given the

proper instructions and he requested a fly-

by to familiarize himself with the field. We

didnt have any other traffic at the time and

had no reason to say no. About half way

over the field, right in front of the tower andbase operations, the pilot decided to stand

it on its tail and disappear. The noise was

so intense that Im sure the entire base

heard it. Base operations called

immediately and asked who that pilot was.I told the operations officer, who was

getting his pen ready to write him up as

soon as he landed, that he said his name

was Colonel Chuck Yeager. All I heard was

silence and then a thank you. Needless to

say Colonel Yeagers name was well known


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for his daring exploits in breaking the sound

barrier and nothing more was ever said.

Colonel Yeager was in charge of a

squadron of fighters in the southern part of

England and had considerable clout. Not

many pilots could be compared with him in

any aspect of flying. He became my hero

just by defying standard procedure and

getting away with it. He was just having

fun.

My tour of duty in England was forthree years. I had had the minimum time in

grade for my next promotion (A-2C) and

that was a slam dunk. I was approaching

the minimum time in grade for my next

promotion and the likely hood of making itwas also a slam dunk (A-1C). I imagined

that it would leave me just enough time to

earn another promotion to Staff Sergeant

before it was time to go back to the States.

I started to think about re-enlisting and

possibly making a career out of it. After all,


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there were worst jobs out there and I was

certainly doing well in this one. You could

reenlist after you completed two years of

service. I had a little time to go so I thought

Id wait.

My buddy and I were called one day

to dress up and prepare to be interviewed

by the promotion board. We had found out

that there were three openings and only the

two of us had the required time in grade.

This should be a no contest unless youput your foot in your mouth and did badly in

the interview. This was to be a two part

interview. If you passed the first, you were

set up for a second. Both of us passed and

were already planning on sewing onanother stripe. Our interviews were to be

held one after another and so we arrived at

the same time. Before we could even get

nervous over potential questions, we were

both told that we wouldnt be getting

promoted, but rather we were being


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transferred to Saudi Arabia. Where the hell

was Saudi Arabia? You have no idea how

glad I was to have held off re-enlisting. The

shock of this assignment hit like a ton of

bricks. Not only were both of us feeling

good about our current positions and hope

for the future, but we had no idea where

Saudi Arabia was and what we should

expect once we got there.

We both cleared the base and sat in

base operations for three days waiting forsome sort of flight going to Saudi Arabia.

Of course, any body in their right minds just

doesnt go to Saudi Arabia. Nearing the

end of our third day, our Commanding

Officer saw us there and asked how theconnections were going. We told him our

sad story and he told us to be back there at

8:00 in the morning and he would see to it

that we got a flight. He was planning to fly

to Germany and had a full load on his C-47,

but he said he would take care of that. The


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next morning he had bumped two

passengers and got us on. He was sure

that once there we could get a flight to

Saudi Arabia.

The flight to Germany was

uneventful. The Major even came back to

the passenger cabin to talk with all aboard,

including us. He was that kind of person.

He asked us to explain some of the

problems of air traffic control with a General

on board. I think he was sort of proud of hisboys. Our stay in Germany was short since

our flight out was the next day. I was sort

of glad to be leaving as soon as we were.

The German bus drivers looked at us like

how did you guys ever win the war? Afterall, this was only eleven years after the end

of WW-II and there were still lots of

evidence as to the horrors of it all.

Our flight to Saudi Arabia took longer

than we thought. We flew to Rome where

we refueled and ate. We were transported


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past some of the well known Rome

landmarks doing about 50 miles an hour

and came to rest at a transit barracks for

the night. The next morning we were

loaded up again and off we went. This time

we stopped in Athens, Greece and stayed

there for three days. Im sure regular

airlines couldnt stay in business scheduling

their flights like this. We stayed in the

enlisted mans hotel which meant we didnt

have private baths or air conditioning.Officers had much nicer accommodations.

It was hot and muggy, but we tried to see

as much as we could. We took pictures

and visited historical places. The people

seemed to be friendly enough, but you werealways on your guard.

Finally we were on our way again.

We stopped in Beirut, Lebanon to refuel

and eat. We were corralled to walk in

certain areas and to not move out of those

boundaries. They said there was a lot of


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disease in the area and these paths were

safe. Really it was more like you should be

safe from bodily attack by staying in the

prescribed path. They had just had some

sort of rebellion and there was a lot of

damage all around. This was not a place I

would have liked to lay over for three days.

We lucked out and shortly took off again.

For the next five hours we saw nothing but

sand. Mounds and mounds of sand as far

as your eyes could see. This had to be thelargest sandbox in the world. What was I

getting into?


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DHAHRAN AFB,

SAUDI ARABIA

The landing at Dhahran, Saudi

Arabia showed us that not all planes land to

fly again. We observed a burned out hulk

of a plane that didnt make it just several

days before. We were hoping that the

accident wouldnt be repeated today. We

arrived safely, but were greeted by searing

heat. It was 125 degrees Fahrenheit and

the dry heat made you feel that you were

scorching your lungs. We arrived by an


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unscheduled troop flight and didnt have

many waiting to greet us at the ramp. As

we were soon to find out, the once a week

regular flight from the States was greeted

by cat calls for extra water. Some really

enjoyed watching the faces of new

personnel as the call, did you bring any

water went up from the crowd. This whole

experience had to be one of the biggest

shocks in my life. How could anyone live

here? We were able to check into ourbarracks and then went out to explore the

base. We continued to walk until 2 AM,

when it seemed to cool down somewhat.

We felt that if we closed our eyes we would

stop breathing if we tried to sleep before itcooled down. We soon adapted to the

searing heat.

The air conditioning had been turned

off for the winter and wouldnt come back

on for another several weeks. We were

concerned that if it was 125 in the


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wintertime what was it going to be like in

the summer? You never knew if you were

in or out of the shower since you were wet

most of the time. You could buy summer

uniforms that consisted of long short

pants, short sleeve shirts and long (to the

knee) socks. This really didnt help much,

but it was better than the regular uniform.

Our duty consisted of working

everyday in the tower. They were short

personnel and that was the reason both ofus were sent here. They needed team

supervisors without giving up the higher

promotion slots. We had the rating, but not

the stripes. We learned later that we had

gone from definitely obtaining ourpromotion in England to falling to 65th and

66th on the promotion list in Saudi Arabia.

This was really bad news especially when

we learned that they only had 2 to 3 open

slots every quarter and at that rate we

would have been discharged before getting


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another promotion. This really didnt give

us much to look forward to.

Our tour of duty in England was for

three years. Both of us had spent about 18

months there so when it came time to

calculate our say in the desert, which was a

one year tour, we only had to count up 6-

1/2 to 7 months. This really meant that we

would be able to go home almost a year

sooner than we originally anticipated. This

was welcome news for sure. However, wesaw things during those seven months that

made you wonder if you would make even

the shortened tour of duty without going

berserk. We were witness to more than

one airman being transported out in the lateevening in a white jacket with his arms

strapped down. The conditions were quite

a shock if you came from a high flying

environment. No beer. No women. It was

forbidden to even look at a woman. You

couldnt take pictures, especially of their


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temples. Being in the tower though, we

were able to take a number of these

prohibited pictures without being detected.

Our windows were tinted and nearly

impossible to see in. It was rather strange,

but a number of us took up photography as

a hobby. We experimented with settings,

time lapse, double exposure and anything

else that we could think of. We had to send

the film out to be processed, but we got it

back within a week.We were always in or around the

tower, even during our free hours. There

wasnt much to do and the most activity

was where we worked. The library became

one of my favorite hangouts. I reallybecame interested in reading while I was

there and that urge hasnt left me to this

day. We were always anxious to be around

the tower on Thursdays when we received

a number of civilian airlines landing at the

base. Some of these were Swissair, KLM,


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TWA, and Royal Saudi Airlines. We were

mainly interested in TWA because this

weekly flight was our mail flight and it

always received priority clearance. One

day we gave the clearance to TWA and the

pilot put one of the stewardesses on the

mike and that soft voice was music to our

ears. Not having spoken to a female for

some time, all of us in the tower nearly wet

our pants just listening to her voice. It was

really hard to reply because your tonguewas thick and your brain was empty. We

certainly didnt sound very professional and

Im sure the pilot knew what our reaction

would be and had a good laugh over it.

One night while my team was onduty, we received a call from Bahrain

Control Center that they had received a call

from a KLM over flight that was

experiencing engine trouble. He was

several hundred miles to the west of us, but

we were the closest airport with a rescue


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squad, and had asked if he could make an

emergency landing. I called down to base

operations and they would have to get in

touch with the officer of the day for an

answer. This wasnt easy since they

couldnt find him so I said OK. The pilot

has feathered one engine and the propeller

was stuck in zero pitch. This meant that the

flat part of the propeller was facing out and

a terrible drag on the airplane. Normally it

would be in the position where the thin partwas facing front and almost no drag

resulted. We were told that he could only

make one approach to the airport and he

wouldnt have enough power to pull up and

go around. We relayed all this to GCA(ground control approach) and waited for

the plane to come into our area.

About fifty miles out we received

KLMs call and gave him all needed

instructions and told him to contact GCA for

a radar approach. We monitored the


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descent and could see his lights

approaching the runway. The fire trucks

were in place and ready for action. About

the time he should have touched down we

heard GCA say that he was too high and to

pull up and go around for another try. I felt

that I was going to witness a massive crash

with lots of civilians on board. I called GCA

and said that we were told he had to land

and wouldnt be able to go around. Soon

the pilot broke in and said he wanted to getthe feel of the airport before landing and he

was alright in going around. This took the

edge off a little and the second approach

was successful.

I watched as the passengersdeplaned thanking my lucky stars that they

were safe. The pilot called back and

thanked us for all our help. Just prior to

KLMs landing, they had finally found the

officer of the day and he requested that we

send the plane somewhere else. I told him


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that he was already on final approach and

was running out of fuel. The option for

another field was not valid and he was

committed to our field. We didnt hear

anything more regarding this and Im sure

the Officer of the Day didnt want it to be

known he wasnt readily available, plus

everything turned out OK anyway. It was a

great feeling to know you were able to help

a plane in real need.

After being there for several months,we received word to expect someone

important. We had no idea who this might

be, but soon plane loads of Saudi guards

started to arrive and take up positions along

the main streets on the base. This wasreally a rag-tag bunch of men who carried a

variety of rifles and weapons. It still didnt

give us a clue as to who was arriving. Soon

another plane arrived and the King of Saudi

Arabia deplaned and was taken to some

area on the base. All the guards stiffened


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to attention as the motorcade passed by

and then they went into their normal slump.

It wasnt long before the King was again on

his way out and the guards again had to

stand up at attention. The Kings plane left

and then so did the guards. King Saud was

a powerful person and the US Air Force

was only there because he allowed us to be

there. If he said GO we would pack up

and leave. We could take anything that

wasnt nailed down. All other facilities hadto stay. Several years after I had left, the

King did say GO and away we went. We

have been back for various lengths of time

or when it suited the Kings needs, but the

threat was always there.One hot afternoon a number of C-

124 Loadmasters started arriving. We had

no idea why or what their mission was, but

as soon as they landed, armed military

guards deployed around all the aircraft.

They continued to guard these planes until


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we started to receive a large number of

Strategic Air Commands B-47s. This

brought back memories of the SAC

maneuvers back at Burtonwood. You could

tell that we were now in the jet age since

SAC had replaced all their B-36s with B-

47s.

We later found out that the C-124s

were filled with arms slated for delivery to

Lebanon. All this just reminded us that we

were in the Middle East and things happenquickly, especially wars. You got the

feeling that a war could start any minute

and you would be right in the middle of it.

One of our favorite pass times was

to tune one of our receivers to RadioMoscow. What we received was the

English version of their propaganda

expounding on all their achievements,

especially in their new space program. It

was a little hard to take since they were

ahead and we were playing catch up.


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One of the jobs of the Air Force,

while we were there, was to train Saudi

pilots to fly. We had nothing against the

Saudi pilots, but they sure took their orders

from someone else. One day, they all lined

up and took off, without much help from us.

All we could do was to make sure that other

aircraft werent in their way. Several days

later, one of our instructor pilots came up to

the tower and asked if we had heard from

them. We said no why? He said that hehad no idea where they flew off to. About a

week after they took off, they came back.

Of the ten that took off only five made it

back. The other five crashed in the desert

after getting lost. Apparently they flew toCairo, Egypt for a vacation because they

thought they had been working too hard.

The Air Force gave them five more planes

and it was back to their old tricks of

pretending to not hear us or understand us

and do whatever they wanted to.


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ARAMCO is an oil conglomerate

made up of Americans and Arabians and

they had a complex about three miles

north of the base. To be truthful, the

Americans had the knowhow and the

Arabians had the oil. Actually the entire air

field was originally built for the express use

of the Arabian American Oil Company and

they had about five or six planes hangared

there. Before the Air Force took over the

facility, the company used to fly the Kingaround where ever he wished to go. They

still did favors for him from time to time.

The Aramco complex was just like

hometown USA. There were wide streets

and green grass everywhere. They hadstores and a movie house that was tops in

the entire area. They had a radio station

that played music all day and night without

interruption or commercial. They had a

hospital and great doctors that would give

free medical attention to any of their


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personnel including the Arabians. One

doctor told us that one of the workers at the

hospital told him that his wife was having a

baby. The doctor told him to bring her in

and they would take care of her. He said

no. Apparently she would rather have it out

in the sand like so many other women. The

doctor wanted to know how she did that

and the worker said that you just scrape out

a hole in the sand, squat and have the

baby. This method had its drawbacks.Women could only have about three babies

before the chemicals in the sand shrunk the

birth canal down so far that passage was

impossible and the woman would die. He

said it so nonchalantly that it was hard tofathom why they would favor that method

over a clean hospital.

We had opportunities to visit the

complex but we never over used our

invitations. The people running Aramco air

operations were very nice to the Air Force


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operations personnel. They were the

closest thing we had to an American

civilian. It was good to talk to them without

saying sir all the time. A number of years

after I left, I ran across an article in the

paper saying that the Saudi Government

had taken over the partnership. I guess

they figured that they had learned enough

and now wanted all the profits.

While I was at Dhahran, I wanted to

do something that might help others thatfollowed me. Maybe something that would

guide them and make it easier for them to

learn the ropes. I thought some sort of

training manual would do the trick and so I

started to put together the information thatwould be needed. I had purchased a small

typewriter and this would be a good

exercise in refreshing what I had learned in

my second year of high school. I worked

on this manual during the late night hours

while I was on duty, since there generally


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wasnt any traffic. The manual took on a

question and answer format. It had 101

questions and the proper answers. This

was a take-off on one of our tower manuals

which was labeled Tower Operations 101.

I received a lot of help from ARAMCO since

they were here from the beginning and

could give me a lot of background material.

This project took about a month to complete

and it fulfilled a need in me to do something

in the writing area.Once I had finished, I presented it to

our Commanding Officer. He took several

looks at it and basically said thanks and

showed me the door. My feelings were hurt

that my efforts werent taken more

seriously. Our CO wasnt a pilot or trained

in any part of our operation and only had

experience in the business end of the job.

As far as I know it was scrapped and no

one ever saw it. Well, at least, it took away

some of the anxiety you conger up just


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waiting for your tour to be over. It kept my

mind busy thinking and writing and that was

a blessing.

The day finally came when my

abbreviated tour was over and it was time

to clear the base and check out. They gave

you a week to clear the base which means

that every place that you may have gone to

has to sign you out making sure you didnt

leave any debts or papers behind. This

included the library, motor pool, Doctorsand Dentists offices, and a number of other

places. Each place had to OK your

departure. This was standard procedure at

every base.

During this week we spent a lot oftim

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