Chapter 7-The Truck Drivers

No where on earth is a garbage man a king except in Thule, Greenland. Garbage wasn't what they were hauling, Just a polite way to describe what came out of the waste tanks. I previously mentioned that we had no pipelines and that all water was trucked to us and waste had to be trucked out. I also described how important the level of all of the tanks became when a wind phase blew in. So, how is a garbage man a king? Again, the “me first” attitude created a market where a quart of prize whiskey or a few cartons of cigarettes could raise your position in the water delivery schedule and the waste removal schedule. So what resulted was that when you needed something that either wasn't available at the PX or you didn't want to pay the going price, you might put in a request to one of these truck drivers. You might pay for “it” in cash or other trade goods. Their currency was the trade goods they received to take care of “me first”.

Now that you see the upside of the truck driver's enterprise, let it be known that there was an underside too. This means that if you mistreated the truck drivers, all manner of things are possible from being the absolute last to be serviced to outright reprisal. To set the stage for this next episode in 1958, look at what we were and where we were. There were roughly twenty five hundred men and five women . The women were all nurse officers. They were “off limits” to the vast majority of the twenty five hundred men. Who were the vast majority of the twenty five hundred men? They were late teens to early twenties with rising hormones. Most would not return to the states for at least six months and many for a whole year.

There came a time when a USO troupe visited the air base. They were okay as entertainment. Something different with live music and singing. If memory serves me right, there were five women with this troupe. Back in the States, they probably wouldn't have turned many heads. However, in Thule they were treated like queens (remember-hormones rising), Kind of embarrassing the way officers would fall all over them. At least some officers.

So where do the truck drivers fit in? Since they had all of the money and all of the trade goods and they were very enterprising, to say the least, it would be natural that they would have the where-with-all to enter into a capitalistic venture involving the USO troupe women. “Allegedly” this is what happened. The drivers lived in barracks right next door to their motor pool. Across the street was the Provost Marshall's office and the Air Police barracks. Now, its tough enough to be a truck driver under these circumstances but they made the best of it. Being an Air Policeman in a place like Thule probably isn't a very good job either. Especially when you consider that no one really wants to be there.

“Allegedly” one night at about two in the morning, a young duty officer in the Provost Marshall's office noticed an unusual amount of activity across the street at the truckers' barracks. There were two barracks buildings. As this young duty officer viewed them, men would enter the end of the left barracks. Every so often, a few men would scurry across the gap from the left barracks and enter the right one. Every so often, men would depart the right end of the right barracks. Pondering the activity and knowing something was amiss, the young duty officer called the Provost Marshall for instructions. He was instructed to call the hospital to see if the USO troupe women were there. The hospital was the only facility equipped to accommodate women at that time and served as sort of a hotel for visiting entertainers. Upon being informed that the women were not in their quarters, the Provost Marshall was again called. He ordered a muster of all off-duty Air Policemen. He then lead the surrounding of and entry of the truckers barracks. “Allegedly” the USO women were engaged in the oldest profession under the management of the truckers. Services were being rendered in the one barracks. The other barracks was being used to keep the men warm while they waited in line.

I could not confirm this story by my direct witness. I was told that the USO troupe was put on the next plane back to the States. I can confirm one thing, though. When stripes have been sewn on a uniform for a long time and are suddenly removed, they leave a “shadow” of their existence. I saw quite a few shadows in the days that followed this incident. It seems that this enterprise netted quite a lot of money that was generously contributed tho the Officer's Club treasury which had been ailing severely.

For a month or so after this incident, everyone waited for some sort of reprisal from the “kings”. Just when the incident seemed to have passed into history, the reprisal came. It is “alleged” that early one morning at shift change, several of the Air Police went to the shower and got something out of the shower head that they didn't figure on. Supposedly during the night, a waste truck hooked up to the water tank at the Air Police barracks and unloaded. Never will know who was responsible for the reprisal. Only that it “overshadowed” the shadow of the missing stripe.

The truck drivers also served another very useful purpose besides water and waste trucking. They were the unofficial messenger service-the grapevine-the scuttlebutt source. If you wanted to know what was going on down the road or across the base, just ask a trucker what the “latest” was. Sometimes you didn't even have to ask.

Out of respect for those involved, I won't go into the details of an incident that occurred one night at the AADCP. Only to say that it would embarrass the CO. In fact, the very next morning after the incident, the entire unit was ordered to the theater after breakfast. Our major came and spoke to us. He said, “Those of you who know what went on here last night will keep your mouth shut. Those of you who don't know will not ask. There will be no further discussion. If I get word from the main base about this incident, I will find out who talked and i will take your stripes and don't think for a moment that I can't find a reason to take them. Are there any questions?” There were none. The major turned the meeting over to the captain and left. The captain talked about some ho-hum and then the lieutenant talked about some more ho-hum. The First Sergeant talked about an upcoming inspection. Finally we were dismissed in time for the morning coffee break so those of us who could, ambled down to the mess hall.

In our mess hall, the First Sergeant had the first chair across from the coffee urn. From this chair he could view the entire dining room except for the private officer's dining room at the opposite end of the mess hall. While most of us had just sat down with our coffee and were starting to engage in small talk, one of the water trucks was being hooked up to mess hall water tank to fill it. The First Sergeant was just about to take a sip of coffee when the truck driver came in for coffee,. He filled his cup and turned to the First Sergeant and said, “Hey, Jack. I hear you had some excitement up here last night.”

Silence filled the mess hall. The First Sergeant looked as though he would have a heart attack. As he looked, as did all, back toward the officer's dining room. Realizing that he had just “tipped over the outhouse”, the driver said, “Bye” and left. Eventually it all passed and we went on with our business. Always wondered if that truck driver group became a broadcasting network.