1956 was a great year. Automobiles came out with 12 volt batteries. Somewhere about that time, Elvis had done “hound Dog”. The Yankees and the (Brooklyn) Dodgers were the best in baseball. And I graduated from high school.. At the senior prom, I gave my sweetheart an engagement ring. The plan was that I would do my hitch in the Army. (I enlisted, by the way.) Afterward, I would use a G. I. Benefit for my college education and somewhere out there we would get married. I took a month off to enjoy a little of the summer. Sort of like “American Graffiti”, just a little earlier. I lived in Houston, Texas. It was hot there. When I went into the Army, I went to Fort Chaffee, Arkansas. It was hot there. After basic training, I was sent to Fort Bliss, Texas at El Paso. It was hot there, too. I spent a year and a half at Fort Bliss. So with all of the places I could have been shipped for which I would have been acclimated, I went to the Arctic. To Greenland.

Now. I don't remember as much about Fort Chaffee as I probably could except that it was hot. I lost a lot of weight. The Army always said that if you needed to lose or gain weight, you will. What I remember was that the processing center for new enlistees was called C and F Company. The “out processing” center, right across the alley was called Alpha Company. I remember that the edge of Alpha Company was bordered with white washed rocks and that the guys in Alpha Company were processing for discharge. Now here I was looking down the long side of a three year enlistment and they were at the end of theirs. And they would line up just inside their boundary of white washed rocks and yell at us, “You'll be sorry!”

Well, I was at Fort Chaffee for about ten weeks. Learned to do a lot of those military things they teach to do you in basic training. Then with a two week delay en route to go home to Houston, I got married and finally I was off to radar school at Fort Bliss in the fall of 1956. Learned all about vacuum tubes and resistors and capacitors and magnatrons and thyratrons and knuten valves and franistats. No, wait. I didn't learn about knuten valves and franistats until I got to Greenland. More on that later. So here I am at this point in my career in the far west Texas desert. And there I stayed until the spring of 1958. Desert conditions, hot most of the time except for cool winters. I would have said “cold” but I was yet to really understand the definition of cold. Cold is Greenland. It was so cold. “How cold was it?” Well, when you spoke the words would freeze. You would gather up the words and take them indoors to the warmth. Only when they had thawed out would you hear what you or anyone else said outside. Boy! It was hard to understand a conversation if the frozen words got mixed together. Now, is that cold or not?

I got my orders finally to go to Greenland, like I said, in the spring of 1958. Now, you might be wondering who I made mad to end up being selected for such an incredible adventure. It wasn't like that at all. A request came in for two of my “Military Occupational Specialty. There were fifty or more of us from whom to choose so it came down to a random selection process. They put all of our personnel files in a big box and shuck them up. When they drew out the two, mine and one other. As far as I could tell, it was all fair and above board. The other guy was one of those “model” soldiers. You know, the guy everyone wanted on their team. Kind of “Gets you right here. Doesn't it.”

Well, after several days and nights of farewell parties, I packed up my young bride, loaded up the '46 Nash and headed back to Houston. To bask in the sun and humidity for a couple of weeks. More preparation for the Arctic. But en route to Houston, I learned what makes “No-Doz” work. After all of the partying, we started the 800 mile drive back to Houston early in the evening, pulling a trailer with all of our worldly possessions aboard. I took a couple of No-Doz tablets (as per directions) and settled into the long drive. It seems that the effect of the No-Doz on me could be likened to taking the strongest laxative known to man. Needless to say, I didn't dare go to sleep. I wasn't wearing a flight suit.

I was to report to Fort Dix, New Jersey at a certain time to process for transport to Greenland. As the departure day neared, I kept informed of the weather in the northeast. It was bad. Snow, sleet, more snow and in general-miserable. Being one who never wanted to be late to a military assignment, I left Houston a few days ahead of schedule in case the weather created a problem. When I arrived at Fort Dix, I was told to find a place to stay until the weather improved. There was no heat at Fort Dix and not enough blankets for transients. So, into Trenton and a $5 a day hotel room I went for the next three days. I was engaged in my own private “arctic training” program.

I finally reported to Fort Dix again. The heat was back on so it wasn't that bad as I recall.. Actually I don't have much recollection of Fort Dix. It was just one short stopover on the way to my “great adventure”. Then to McGuire Air Force Base to board a M.A.T.S. flight to Thule. We stopped for a short while in Goose Bay, Labrador and then, off to Thule. (By the way, that's pronounced “Too-Lee”. Supposedly come from “Ultimae Thule” which means “The Utmost End”. Little did I know how literal the translation would be.

Now the intensity of my memory starts to rise. I recall that there was one female officer type on board. A major. I remember that because I thought that such a desolate assignment would be for males only. Not Chauvinism, mind you, just naivety. What about hospitals and doctors and nurses? She would be taking over as head nurse at the hospital. I would meet her later during a stay in the hospital.

We flew on a C-118, a 4 engine propeller driven passenger plane. Now, the Air Force had a theory. In every plane crash where all on board perished, the passenger seats all faced forward. So, the Air Force decided to turn all of their seats around to face them backwards, (Aft, they call it.) At least I am thankful that we never had the opportunity to test their theory. I wonder if they ever really tested the theory with satisfactory results. Must have originated at Texas A&M. Oops! No Aggie jokes here. ......But did hear about the Aggie researcher who trained a flea to jump on command? Well, after teaching to flea how to jump on the command, “Jump flea”, he noted the distance in his research notebook, he tore off one of the flea's legs and again commanded, “Jump flea.” The fleas obeyed and jumped a somewhat shorter distance. Tis process went on, one leg at a time until the flea had no more legs. The Aggie researcher ordered the flea to jump two or three more times. Obviously the flea couldn't jump with no legs. But the Aggie's conclusion was outstanding and he wrote in his research notebook, “After removing all of the flea's legs, the flea becomes deaf.” Makes as much sense as facing the passenger seats aft. Don't you think?

I don't recall for sure but it seems that it was at least an eight hour flight from Goose Bay to Thule. Many of the veterans aboard slept most of the way but I didn't. Anticipation can really keep you strung out. Having looked at a map of Northern Canada and the route to Thule, I knew we were over some really isolated areas. It amazed me once to look out the window, hours into the flight, and see a light below. All I had been able to see up to that point was the dull gray of snow reflecting subdued moonlight punctuated by occasional dark patches that might have been trees. I wondered who could live out there and how did they survive? Could it be a Mountie? I'll never know.

When at last we started our landing approach, I finally started to think about what awaited, trying to conjure up in my mind's eye what everything would look like. All I could imagine were igloos and snow.