Chapter 9-Going Home

S.N.A.F.U. Means “situation normal, all fouled up” (the G rated version). SNAFU was the way many (but not all) young men viewed Army life back then. It had to do mostly with the mismatch of civilian experience to Army duty assignments. You know, the civilian truck driver was made clerk typist. The soda jerk was made a diesel mechanic. And the gourmet chef was made an operations room plotter (which is exactly what happened at the AADCP).

I can't remember his name but he had been a chef at a very popular New York City hotel. When one of the cooks rotated back to the States, and we were short one cook, the quality of the food began to fall off. Even at its lowest quality, I must say that the food at the AADCP mess was the best I ever tasted in the Army. But here was this plotter with all of his kitchen experience. He volunteered to cook. He did and for the last month I was there, the food was excellent. He worked nights as a baker and served breakfast. Mouth watering pastries and, could you believe it, gourmet SOS.

So SNAFU had unraveled itself for once. Speaking of SNAFU, one of the guys had made a sort of one-handed clock with pie shaped areas of a variety of colors. In each of those areas were letters like SNAFU. To match his mood for the day, this guy would simply rotate the hand to point to one of the wedges. It stayed on SNAFU most of the time. One day it moved to FUBAR, My curiosity was aroused so I asked him what “FUBAR” meant. (The “G” rated version again) “Fouled Up Beyond All Repair”. What about TARFUBAR? “Things Are Really Fouled Up Beyond All Repair”. But what about “FIGMO”. “You'll know when the time comes”, was his response.

So now I'm less that a month away from leaving Thule. As was customary, I packed up many of my belongings. Then I turned in those items that were issued at Thule for use only at Thule. You know, empty rifle, steel helmet, snow glasses, bunny boots. I had really been under the gun with Sergeant Henry. In fact, things had gotten so bad that I had volunteered for permanent kitchen duty to get away from him. Then came the day when Sergeant Henry, right in the middle of a card game decided to dress me down, in front of half the AADCP personnel, as was his custom. He just told me I would be on permanent latrine duty when I was called to the orderly room for a phone call. It was flight operations and I was scheduled out at midnight. It was then that I knew “FIGMO”. I returned to Sergeant Henry and said,”Forget It. Got My Orders.” (Again the “G” rated version).

It was about eighteen hundred and I had to be at the terminal two hours before the flight. So, I went to my room and completed packing my duffel bag and changed into my “Class A” uniform. I took my duffel bag over to the truck port and started making my rounds saying goodbye. As was the custom, I went over to the officer's quarters where I was poured the ceremonial “farewell drink”. My radar officer was really a gentleman and not just “by an act of congress.” after the farewell small talk and best wishes I went back over to our PX area asked the truck driver to turn the carryall around and start the engine and get ready for hasty departure. While he complied, I made the rounds of every one in the PX area, shaking hands and saying goodbye. I was wished good luck by everyone. Almost.

At last I came to Sergeant Henry. Now if there was ever one human (if you could call him human) that I really wanted to get away from, it was Sergeant Henry. I put a little distance between men and him. In fact he was on the other side of a coffee table and I was at the truck port door. “Sergeant Henry”, I said, “In all of my life I have never met someone like you. You have taught me so many lessons about dealing with people. You have definitely change my thinking about a career in the Army. For all of this I thank you and salute you.” (Stop. You are getting ahead of me.) With that I offered the well known 'one-finger-salute' and headed out the door to the waiting carryall. “Lets go”, I said and the driver hit the gas. I looked back to see Sergeant Henry coming down the steps shaking his fist. At last I was through with him for good, I thought.

The ride down the mountain was warm and pleasant. I say warm and pleasant because although it was thirty seven below zero outside, I was glowing with the expectation of reunion with those who were dear to me back in the States. I checked in at operations for my boarding pass and at last I was all set to go. As you would imagine, feeling some remorse for my farewell to Sergeant Henry, I kept an eye toward the door.

At last the boarding call came and I boarded the plane. It was a C-118 just like the one I flown into Thule on. And guess what? The seats were still turned around backwards. I had just completed 366 days in Thule and I still didn't want to test the theory of the backward facing seats. Anyway we took off and had achieved flight level when I was summoned to the flight deck. I reported in and pilot told me that some of my friends at the AADCP wanted to talk to me. One last “goodbye and write us sometime”. Kind of brings a tear to your eye.

I returned to my seat and looked out at that same gray I had seen just over a year ago. A flight attendant came by with some coffee and a snack. I loosed my tie and was just about to sip some coffee when we hit a little turbulence. You guess it, the coffee went down the front of my shirt and into my lap. There was a brief shock. Realizing that no physical damage was done, I sort of chuckled. It didn't matter. I was going home. The liquid started cooling off. In fact it started to get cold. By this time we were over an hour into what would be an eight hour flight. I was getting colder when the flight attendant brought around some blankets. It seemed that we had lost much but not all of our cabin heat. The blankets would help make us more comfortable. My spirits were undamped.

I think I had finally dozed off but awoke to a change in the sound of our engines. Out the window I could see one of the propellers slowing to a stop. The intercom came one. “This is the captain. We have feathered our number three engine because we lost manifold pressure. We will continue on to Labrador on three engines. There is nothing to worry about. This plane will fly on one engine.” We were now about two and a half hours into the flight. I asked the flight attendant why we didn't return to Thule. He said, “This means we may be grounded for a while. There are no women in Thule, but there are women in Labrador. So if we are to be grounded, it is better there. The pilot will get us there. Don't worry.”

Comforting. What's next? Coffee in the crotch. No heat. And flying on three engines. And over this forsaken wilderness. I began to warm up. I also began to dry up. I also began to relax as time passed. Somewhere along the flight, I dozed off again. I woke up with a start as the engine noise changed again. It was daylight outside and I could tell we were descending. To my relief, the intercom came on and said, “We have started our descent into Goose Bay” along with the usual instructions about set backs and tray tables. I let out a sigh of relief and in a few minutes we made an uneventful landing.

Now Goose Bay, Labrador was a lot farther south than Thule. I mentioned that Thule had thirty six inches of rain during the winter. It seems that during that same period of time, Goose Bay had twenty seven feet of snow. You could look out at the runway and see only the airplane's tail above the snow. We arrived at the passenger terminal and deplaned. We were told to wait in the terminal until or plane was checked for possible repair. We waited for about an hour. It was announced that we would be grounded for at least twenty four hours. We were given directions to the transient quarters and mess and retrieved our bags. I know that I ate and slept but I don't remember much about Goose Bay.

The next day, I decided to return to the terminal an hour or so ahead of time. It was a bright, sunshiny day outside so I took a leisurely walk. When I reached the terminal, I checked my bag and started to wander through the passenger terminal. Shortly I rounded the corner into the passenger waiting area. There he was, sitting in a lounge chair, reading a comic book. A chill went up my spine. It was Sergeant Henry. He left Thule after I did to begin a thirty day leave. I was heading for the door when he spotted me. He rolled his comic book into a sort club and started after me. As we started to run, he yelled, “I'm gonna to get to your wife before you do but first I'm gonna to get you.” I was forced to consider several things as I fled. Should I be a man and stand up to him? Should I face a court martial with so little time remaining? (I was under orders to report to a discharge point.) I kept running. He was as strong as an ox but I was faster. Besides, fear of physical pain and incarceration are strong motivators. I know we went through several buildings, in one door and out another. The last time I saw Sergeant Henry, I was back among the pinsetters at the base bowling alley looking out through the louvers. He was in the player's area looking all over for me. Finally he left. I was glad I had been a pinsetter when I was thirteen.

I waited until the exact reporting time to return to the terminal. As I edged into it, I looked all over for Sergeant Henry. He was gone. Relieved, I reported in and relaxed until my flight was called. We finally departed Goose Bay headed for Maguire Air Force Base in New Jersey. It was an uneventful flight until we neared our destination. It seems that the spring fog had socked in Maguire so we were diverted to Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. We landed and finally stopped at the terminal. I had seen this in movies but never thought I would do it. When I stepped off the airplane's stairs, I walked over to a grassy area and kissed the ground. The adventure was almost over, I thought.

I hopped a taxi for the Washington National Airport. I remember that the driver complained about all the money he had lost betting on the horse races. When we arrived at the airport, I paid him and started inside. With my duffel bag on my shoulder and my order packet under my other arm, I was met by a crush of people as I started into the terminal. I went to a Delta ticket counter to book a flight to Arkansas. When I reached for my wallet, it was gone. Either I left it in the cab or had my pocket picked when I came through the crowd at the door. I was broke except for about two dollars that I had stuffed into my trouser pocket. Finally, I went to the Air Police unit at the airport.

I explained my situation to the Air Police desk sergeant. I was turned over to the Armed Services Police and taken to their headquarters in the Naval Gun Factory in Washington D.C. They checked out my orders and categorized me as “Transient Without Funds”. The desk sergeant told me to sit “over there”. I sat “over there” for several hours. I learned a little about the Armed Services Police. They traveled in pairs, each from a different branch of the service and were very jumpy. A new desk sergeant came on duty and was briefed about everything including me. Several hours had passed since my arrival. Finally I asked the desk sergeant if there was any place I could get something to eat. He directed an airman to take me to the mess hall. Now this airman was really jumpy. He didn't speak. Just motioned me down the hall and toward some stairs. I reached into my pocket as we walked. He unsnapped his holster and said, “Keep your hands where I can see them.” I tried to explain and he shushed me. We went through the serving line and he motioned me toward an empty table. He pointed to an end seat. I sat down, He sat opposite and three seats over. He wouldn't allow any one to sit beside either of us. Very cautious.

I later mildly complained to the desk sergeant about being treated like a prisoner. The desk sergeant explained that so many times these soldiers and airmen had let their guard down and paid the consequences, sometimes fatal. Finally they decided to send me to Fort MacNair until appropriate orders could be cut for me some time the next day.

Fort MacNair, it turned out was the “National War College”. Its a place where there are more generals than enlisted men. I would walk around in a perpetual salute. I was directed to the “enlisted transient” barracks. The beds (not bunks) had thick, comfortable mattresses. The food was good and was close to rivaling the AADCP. But it was the shower that impressed me the most. Before going to dinner, I decided to shower and put on a fresh uniform. The shower was private and lasted for almost an hour with the water running all of the while. A “Stateside shower”. One of the pleasures I had missed for over a year. That and a good night's sleep are all that I remember now.

The next day I was given travel and meal vouchers. That night, I boarded a train for my trip to Arkansas. The first leg was backwards all the way to Harrisburg, Pa. Backwards...I wondered if the railroad had a crash theory, too. Then went went forward for a couple of days to Arkansas. Somehow I made it to Fort Chaffee where I had started my military career.

When you return from overseas duty with less than ninety days remaining on your enlistment, you get an early discharge if you decide not to make the Army a career. I remember two things about the processing out. One was the “Re-enlistment station” during the process. The re-enlistment sergeant looked at my records ans said, “Oh, I see you are coming back from Thule. Well, I know what your answer will be so sign here while I go through my required spiel.” In a total monotone, he went through the benefits of a military career. I signed the rejection.

The other thing I remember was that I was assigned to Alpha Company and that the area was still bordered with white washed rocks and that many of us gathered inside the rock border over near where the new recruits were processing in. “You'll be sorry”, we yelled. So after two years, nine months, nine days and twenty two hours, I was a civilian again. I had been sworn in, sworn at and finally sworn out. I flew home to Houston. The great adventure had finally ended, this time.