The Days Forward

West Point Class of 1969

Suzanne Rice

Making Captain and Leaving the Platoon – 1971

The time passed quickly as we finished the fortifications on Rifle and prepared a turnover to the ARVN.  The attack we had weathered was apparently more than an isolated action.  We were told that several firebases had been hit throughout Vietnam that night in some kind of celebration of Ho Chi Minh’s birthday month.  We seemed to have the fewest killed and division was happy about that, but we used a shitload of ordinance to get only seven confirmed kills.  They were not happy with that.

     My relationship with the men was very good and we had deepened our bond a little more.  You know the line about “he who sheds his blood with me” from Shakespeare and the Band of Brothers thing.  However, with another eight new guys about a third of the platoon turned over.  I try to recall their names.  I can see their faces, but maybe it was a defense thing that we just cannot remember each other.  The constant turnover contributed to the “detachment” I fear.  The WWII 101st “Band of Brothers” went through training together and fought together for less than a year (Jun 44-May 45).   But they were kept together.

Band of Brothers WWII

Anyway, other than my classmates, I really never saw any of my guys again.  That may be why my class from West Point is so cohesive – we trained, fought, and served together for many years.

     On 4 June 1971 there was a rather large promotion ceremony at the 326th Engineers.  All the Class of 1969 made Captain.  The Army was hurting for officers at almost all levels.  We were one year to 1st LT and one year to Captain.  (I would get an “early” promotion to Major seven years later in the drawn down volunteer Army – the end of the war really slowed promotions.)  Tours were very short in company command (six months) and even battalion command (one year).  Cohesive was not a term to describe any unit. 

     In any case, we had to move up – that meant leaving the platoon.  I think (rank of or description of) SFC Tietz was actually glad – he now could take it over without an officer “in the way.”  I still worked at Rifle for a while.

     On one afternoon LTC Rodolph landed and inspected the base.  It was a good inspection, and he was very pleased with our product and actions.  At this time, I was close to the men and had the same thoughts as they – get home and get out.  The Colonel offered me a chance at company command.  I would get a 30 day stateside leave but have to extend for another six months back in country.  He argued how great that would be for my career.  I told him as strongly as I could that my only “career” move was to get home to Mary Ellen and Sean. 

     He also held a 101st Airborne Association membership form and an AUSA membership form.  He wanted 100% of his officers enrolled and had noticed I had not joined.  I told him I was in the field and not particularly interested – my Company Commander had not been very successful in his recruitment attempt.  He held an excellent Officer Efficiency Report in his hand and the applications in the other.  He told me I should not waste my efforts in-country with a silly mistake of not joining.  I joined – but became even more certain I was getting out of his Army ASAP.

Officer Evaluation Support Form

      He did ask if I liked my next assignment (he was the former head of Engineer branch in DC) and I told him I really would have liked Ft Carson, but that Bragg and the airborne were fine.  He smiled.

     LTC Rodolph turned over command to LTC Sisniak in June.  LTC Sisniak was a good guy, but I was with him only a short time.  LTC Rodolph was quite an egotist, but also quite effective and with no lack of courage.  I think he just was feeling badly that this war placed him away from the action, and he longed to be a part of it.  I ran into him in Hawaii in 1978.  He was the head facility engineer in Oahu and I was in the Pacific Ocean Division of the Corps.  He had a beautiful home on the north shore, never made flag rank, and did his military retirement there. He passed in New Mexico in 2007.

     My duties in late June and July were as the executive officer of C Company, over slotted as a Captain in a 1LT position.  I ran the admin for the company and visited the platoon from time to time.  One duty had to do with “C Day” as I recall.

     In Vietnam the troops were not paid in US Dollars, but MPC (Military Payment Certificates) or script.  Most of your pay was in allotment home or to an in-country GI savings account.  Congress did not tax your pay while in a combat zone.  You drew MPC enough to buy sodas, PX items, haircuts (in the field we had a kit used by a designated trooper), etc.  The troops were not supposed to buy directly from the locals, but they did (prostitution, drugs, etc.)  Some guys made money gambling or selling drugs.

Military Payment Certificate in Vietnam

     To thwart these black-market dealings, we would have a C Day in-country.  A very highly classified day when in a 24-hour period all MPC would be exchanged for new MPC making the old stuff as useful as monopoly money.  There was a limit on how much a troop could exchange.  Bases were sealed and the exchange done.  Needless to say, a whole new market on exchange rates occurred.  Some ladies would even try to get through the wire to cash in old stuff.  If a troop was over his limit, only an officer’s affidavit explaining the overage allowed exchange – usual reason was gambling winnings.

     Anyway, for some reason, I got to bring the new MPC to our Camp Evans guys.  Also, for some reason, I could not get a bird and that meant driving there through Hue and up QL1 with all that “new” money.  That was a cool ride and passed the local university.  Different kind of ladies and gents at the university area – the traditional white dress over black outfits and conical hats you see in some movies.  Also, the girls of mixed race (mostly French-Vietnamese) were quite pretty and my driver liked the trip. 

University of Hue

     As we got near the bridge over the Perfume River in downtown Hue a firefight broke out between the National Police and troops of the 1st ARVN Div.  Some kind of local dust up I supposed.  We sat back a ways and watched.  Several hundreds of rounds were fired – and not a single person hit.  Then things calmed down and traffic resumed. 

     This reminded me of an earlier trip in my tour.  I was traveling through a village south of Hue and traffic was heavy.  It was just me and my driver and we were stopped.  Just then a “slicky boy” and a compatriot rushed our jeep and literally ripped my watch off my arm.  He ran down a small street.  It was the watch Mary Ellen had given me as a wedding present and I was pissed.  I got out, charged my M16, and took a good aim at the running kid, about 12 years old or so.  I was contemplating firing when he looked back right down the barrel line and then threw down the watch.  My driver jumped out and charged his weapon.  The locals all were quite amused, to include the National Police officer in the crowd.  We moved our weapons back and forth and the laughter subsided a bit, and I walked over and picked up my watch.  The boy had literally run out of his sandals.  My driver picked them up and threw them in the jeep and we drove off as traffic had subsided.  We did not think much of the people that day.

     In the last few days in-country, I started to get short-timers syndrome.  I just did not want to get hit or killed with less than 30 days remaining.  So it was with some trepidation that I delivered the pay to our firebases.  Since Rifle had a road, I was to use a jeep again.  Driving that road and country where we had fought some skirmishes was kind of rewarding.  The road was quite passable now and there had been no action for some time.  We went alone with just me and my driver.

     We passed the last section of flatland and went through the low-water crossing.  We were aware of the reoccurring rumors of supposed NVA infiltrating in ARVN uniforms.  As we passed the crossing, we saw four ARVN uniformed troops with no gear crouching on the side of the road.  They saw us, stood up, smiled, and waved.  This was a bad sign for several reasons.  First ARVN troops were usually indifferent to US troops at best, and second soldiers were never totally without weapons and gear.  We smiled, waved, and hit the gas.  I reported this when we got to the hill.  No ARVN were supposed to be in the area.  Anyway, the trip back was a bit tense.

     My other duties were with the “problem” guys.  Vietnam took a terrible toll on the young men who served.  I estimated at the time that over 70% of troops had at least tried coke or marijuana with about 25% having a problem kicking it.  The gooks sold it at $2 a cap and things were bad in the rear areas.  The Army would fight this scourge for years.  Those discharged basically had to fend for themselves in the civilian world.  When we returned there was not much help for Vets in general and almost none for addicts.

     Other guys were really not supported from back home much at all.  Several got the standard “Dear Johns” as absence did not make the heart grow fonder.  Typical was my driver in the platoon.  He was a good man and my cohort at the Khe Sanh night mine sweep.  But he was all of 19 and had a 17-year-old wife at home (shot gun wedding before he deployed or face statutory rape charges from his father-in-law).  Anyway, she was running around and filed for divorce.  He was crushed – I had no idea what to do or say.

     The lack of communication back home was so hard to take – not knowing.

Lessons I Learned on the Way Out – 1970

vietnam war story

     The year just past – 2023 – marked fifty years since the official end of the Vietnam War for America.  For many who served – including me – the Fifty-Year Commemoration invoked any number of memories.  Please bear with me as I share a few.

     My tour of duty in Vietnam was cut short when I failed to duck fast enough and low enough and was wounded in action.  I prayed for help, but the Good Lord was ahead of me.  He already had seventeen Guardian Angels on the ground with me – the very young Enlisted Soldiers of my platoon – all between seventeen and nineteen years old.  They saved my life by enabling my safe medical evacuation.  My respect and gratitude for Enlisted Soldiers is without limit.

medivac helicopter vietnam
Moving a Wounded Soldier to Medevac Helicopter

     After surgery and some recovery time at the Army hospital at Long Binh, I was shipped with other patients on the way home to the Army hospital at Camp Zama, Japan.  The recovery period in Japan was an important transition time.  Immediately following our surgeries in Vietnam, many of us were on heavy pain-killers – morphine or other narcotics.  Our stay in Japan was the time to ease off those drugs in preparation for our return home. 

medical hospital vietnam war
American Evacuation Hospital in Vietnam  (MN Remembers VN)

     At Camp Zama, I was in a mixed ward of about eight wounded Officers and Enlisted Soldiers.

camp zama vietnam war
Camp Zama, Japan

About a week after I arrived, a young soldier – perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old – was carried in.  He had stepped on a land mine.  The booby trap had taken off his right foot. 

     Within a day after his arrival, his condition became extremely serious when an artery opened near the wound and he was losing blood quickly.  An Army doctor and a nurse came to his bedside immediately to stop the bleeding.  As they began to work, the soldier’s pain dramatically increased.  He cried – and then screamed loudly.  As I recall, they didn’t give him any painkillers.  Perhaps it was because he was transitioning off narcotics – or perhaps the drugs would have aggravated the bleeding – or more likely because there wasn’t time given how much and how fast he was losing blood.

     In the midst of the now very loud and continuous crying and screaming, the doctor and nurse remained focused, stopped the bleeding, and saved that soldier’s life.  He could have died right before our eyes.

     The next day, after he had rested and recovered from the pain of the day before, that young soldier did something I will never forget.  He asked the nurse for a crutch, and he got out of his bed.  Then he carefully hobbled around to each of us in the ward – to apologize – for not “keeping it together” – for not handling his pain in a better way.  All of us were stunned.  We were almost in tears when he went through his excruciatingly painful ordeal – and now, almost in tears again, at this soldier’s humility.

     I learned two lessons from the events of those two days.  First, I could never be a doctor (or nurse) – certainly not an emergency room physician (or assisting nurse).  I understand, of course, these doctors and nurses train intensely to develop the skills needed to perform just such life-saving work.  But to be able to perform those tasks under conditions of extreme pain for the patient remains a wonder to me.  My respect and gratitude for such doctors and nurses also is without limit. 

Heroic Medical Personnel in Vietnam (Army Nurse Corps Association)

     The second lesson I learned was from that young, seriously-wounded, soldier.  I suppose he believed we may have thought less of him because – in his eyes – he didn’t bear up well under his pain.  All of us in the ward knew, however, that had the situation been reversed, we would have screamed as loudly or more. 

     That soldier could have remained quietly in his bed for his remaining few days at Camp Zama without saying a word to any of us.  He would have moved on quickly along with the rest of us – far from the memories of that time.  Instead, he felt the need to come to each of us face-to-face – his fellow soldiers – to say, essentially, that he had “not measured-up” as a soldier and as a man.  He left us speechless.

      Courage comes in different forms.  It’s not just battlefield courage.  It took real courage for this young soldier to come to the rest of us in this way – in an extraordinary show of humility.  His actions were unnecessary, of course – but not without deep meaning and effect.  Would any of the rest of us have shown such humility and courage?

I’m certain the young soldier had no idea that anyone would remember – with respect and thanks for his humble and courageous actions – more than fifty years later.

      I still pray for him and all the others who served so many years ago.  

Europe – Over Three Decades

From: Scott Wallace

(1983-1988, 1992-1994, 2001-2003)

     I had the privilege of serving in various US Army positions in Europe (principally Germany) over 9 years.  Each of my tours was in a different decade, and upon reflection, each was a dramatically different phase of European and American history. 

     I served in the Second Armored Cavalry Regiment (2d ACR) from 1983 to 1988, serving at both the squadron and regimental level.  They were the days of the Cold War and the tension between the west and the Warsaw Pact ebbed and flowed with the political climate on both sides of the ocean.  Yet, some degree of tension was always present.  The Regiment assumed operational control of the divisional cavalry squadrons of the Third Infantry Division and the 1st Armored Division for the purpose of border surveillance, conducted from six remote camps along the West German border with East Germany and Czechoslovakia. 

east/west Germany border
East/West German border

     During the period, military alerts and deployments which practiced movement to initial defensive positions were common.  One never really knew if the call to deploy was for practice or the real deal.  Each call was taken seriously, and from our positions along the border there was the realization that any provocation by the Warsaw Pact would be ours to deal with as best we could until other deploying formations were in position.

     The Cold War would turn hot on occasion, if only briefly.  I vividly recall three incidents, in particular.  Once, in late October 1985, one of our Regimental helicopters was on patrol along the border when a Czech jet aircraft fired upon it, subsequently claiming that the helicopter had violated the border and was thus a viable target (our detailed analysis proved the Czechs to be absolutely wrong).  I was surprised when much of our reporting of the incident showed up on the front page of the New York Times … verbatim.  A second incident was relatively benign, but interesting none the less as a Czech pilot flew his helicopter over the border into West Germany and asked for political asylum. We kept the pilot and gave back the helicopter after a thorough look to see if there was anything of intelligence value.  My final recollection was the death of a West German civilian who was shot and killed in 1987 by Czech border guards as he took a Sunday stroll in the normally bucolic woods near the border.  As a result, and in response, diplomatic relations between West Germany and Czechoslovakia remained suspended for almost a year.

American posts in 1987

     I left Germany in 1988 bound for the Navy War College never expecting there to be anything but an Iron curtain separating east and west on the European continent.  I watched in amazement, along with much of the world, from my seat at the War College in late 1989 as the Berlin Wall fell and the Warsaw Pact began to crumble.

     After a tour at the Army’s National Training Center at Fort Irwin, I returned to Germany in 1992 to assume command of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment in Fulda, Germany.  My predecessor in command was Colonel Skip Bacevich… also, from the USMA Class of 1969.  This tour in Germany was different …. very different from my previous experience.  West and East Germany had reunified, hence there were no border operations or continuous patrolling of a sometimes-hostile line of separation.

     Our future in Germany was uncertain as the United States government wrestled with how to take advantage of the “peace dividend” afforded it by the fall of the USSR.  In time, it became clear that many US forces stationed in Germany would redeploy stateside, thus the mission of the Regiment shifted from combat readiness to taking care of soldiers, families and equipment in retrograde.

     The city of Fulda and its government officials had been exceptionally gracious hosts over the many years of US stationing.  Thus, in addition to our obligation to our soldiers and their families, some of our time had to be devoted to saying sincere and heartfelt thanks to our hosts.   We held farewell ceremonies in each of the host cities of Wildflecken, Bad Hersfeld and Fulda.  Perhaps our most meaningful farewell was a joint German/American evening church service held in the Fulda Dom followed by a torchlight parade of American soldiers through the old city of Fulda …. Thus, symbolizing the end of the US presence.

Fulda Dom
Inside the Fulda Dom

 To this day, the Fulda German-American Friendship Club remains active as does the German museum located at OP Alpha, the Regiment’s old border camp near Fulda. 

     I was the last 11th ACR Commander in Europe.  We closed down the Regiment in a simple ceremony in Downs Barracks in Fulda on 14 April 1994.  At the time there were 11 officers and soldiers assigned to once-proud 5000-man Regiment. I left Germany in April 1994 never expecting to return. But …. return I did. 

     I assumed Command of the Fifth US Corps (V Corps) in Heidelberg, Germany in July, 2001.  The Corps was a major US European headquarters with the mission of maintaining the combat readiness of forward-deployed formations within the Command. 

     One might recall that from the period of mid-1991 until late 2001 the Balkans imploded with multiple wars of independence, insurgencies and ethnic conflicts associated with weakening control (and ultimate dissolution) of Yugoslavia.  The United Nations stepped in with a peacekeeping force, of which the US was a part, designed to enforce negotiated cease fire agreements and to separate the belligerents. Thus, in addition to our combat readiness training, we were obligated to prepare the subordinate Divisions of the Corps (1st Infantry Division and 1st Armored Division) for peacekeeping operations in the Balkans. 

     The unthinkable happened and everything changed on 11 September 2001.  We found out about the attack on the United States during a leadership seminar I was hosting at the Community Club in Heidelberg.  The training focus of the seminar quickly shifted to force protection as I directed my Commanders to return to their home stations, upgrade their security measures and stand by for further orders. 

     There was an immediate and overwhelming voice of support from every community in Germany.  The main gate to Campbell Barracks in Heidelberg (the Corps’ headquarters) became almost impenetrable … not due so much to enhanced security, as due to the throngs of German civilians demonstrating in support of America and the flowers, wreaths and candles they left in their wake. 

     The V Corps began planning in earnest during the winter of 2001, eventually deploying to the sands of Kuwait in 2002, then on to Baghdad and beyond in 2003.  But that is an altogether different story.

     From Cold War border operations to the American drawdown in Europe to deploying from Germany to the Middle East … no writer of contemporary fiction could write a more unlikely or less believable story.

A Surreal Sequel to the Surreal Story – 1992

trip to Moscow

Prior to the Moscow trip we spent almost 3 months commuting to DC to brief all of the politicians (and there were many) who thought they should be involved in this endeavor. I thought I should start by giving my West Point classmate, Bob Kimmitt, a head’s up as he was an Under Secretary of State at that time. I obtained an appointment and after passing a platoon of administrative assistants, was directed to Bob’s 7th floor office. The office was so big I had to have a ground guide to help me find his desk at the other end of the room. The desk was so big it looked like a small aircraft carrier. Confirmation that I was now firmly in the world of politicians (forgive me, Bob).

     In addition to the many Senators and House members we also had to visit the White House and brief Brent Scowcroft, Bush 1 National Security advisor. Most of you may know that Scowcroft was a ‘47 USMA grad (the year most of us were born). Unlike most of the folks we encountered in DC he was a complete gentleman. 

Red Square

     Our hotel (The Metropol) was an old Czarist era hotel now managed by a Swiss company. It was located at one end of Red Square. As the sun set very late in July, we would take a walk each night after the long incarceration in cigarette smoke and vodka-filled rooms to try and clear our heads. Each night the square was now filled with average Russians (denied access under the communist regime) who, upon hearing our English language conversations, approached us to happily practice their English and see real “Americans”. Each night there was construction activity at the end of Red Square by St. Basil’s Cathedral. It looked like they were setting up a temporary stage for some sort of live entertainment. Every night was further progress. We asked the Russian people that stopped to talk to us what the stage was for.  They exclaimed that this was really an exciting event-the first ever non-military event ever in Red Square. It was a stage for a week-long show including the Russian Ballet, the symphony and several Russian Rock bands. We continued to ask the purpose of the show and they finally revealed that it was to celebrate the birth of the United States!

     So, we had to get our heads around the fact that the first non-military event in Red Square was a July Forth celebration for the United States. Did I mention surreal?

Moscow River

     The President of the Russian Academy of Science (E.P. Velikhov) decided to take us all to his summer dacha on the Moscow River.  The area was a secure area where the former Soviet Union apparatchik had large multiple summer houses in an enclosed compound area. The entire compound was surrounded by a 12-foot-high green fence with camouflaged guard houses and machine gun nests strategically sited. All of the houses had now been taken over by the Yeltsin government. Yeltsin’s summer house was about ½ mile from the house we visited. The house we visited was over 100 years old (think Dr. Zhivago) and had never been painted. I guessed around 10 thousand square feet. The communists had added a separate brick private theater, seating about 80-100. They also added a full-size indoor Olympic pool. All of these areas were in an incredibly poor state of repair.

Pound the Table

     We spent the entire week in conference rooms negotiating the most trivial points. It was an exercise in stamina and patience.  We met in multiple conference rooms which were all very large with enormous conference tables. Our team was 7 people, and they always had a group of 20-30. We were stuck on some point late one afternoon waiting to meet with Yeltsin to give him a progress report (or lack thereof) when one of their people started pounding on the table with his shoe! He must have been a protégé of Khrushchev! We were so shocked that we completely lost the point under discussion!

Private Jet Flight

     As part of our welcome, we were flown from a small airport outside Moscow to the city of Ekaterinburg, which contained a facility for manufacturing nuclear weapons.

flight for Moscow trip

The Flight from Moscow (airportia.com)

     Being a former pilot, I was skeptical of our aircraft. It was a YAK executive jet (I use the term loosely). About the size of a large Gulfstream. By our standards it would normally hold about 10 passengers. This one was rigged with about 30 tubular aluminum seats (think lawn chairs) and looked like it was 30 years old. To my surprise, it actually took off. I received permission from our FSB (former KGB) handlers to go up and talk to the pilots. Two burly guys seating in a cockpit that looked like something from the Wright Brothers era. They only had one headset that they swapped back and forth depending on who was manning the radios. No evidence of any checklists or emergency manuals. There was one strip of toilet paper stuck on a radio knob. The toilet paper had the enroute radio frequencies written on it. This was significant as this was the only toilet paper we saw on this overnight trip. We stayed in another communist big wig compound but there was no hot water or toilet paper. We used the Russian equivalent of a Sears catalogue.

American Embassy

Moscow trip

     The American Embassy and the Ambassador (Robert Strauss) had been informed of our visit, so we were invited to the embassy open house on July 4th. We were excited to go but could not get in as there was a line of Russians about 3 blocks long to get in, such was the euphoria over the new relationship.

Arbat Pedestrian Street

     One night after the interminable meetings, we went with our American interpreter to a restaurant on the Arbat pedestrian mall (in Moscow). We did not know that this restaurant was now owned by a newly emerging Oligarch/Russian Mafia type.  Our American (Russian-born) interrupter had a bit to drink and started to criticize some of the wall art. When we left and were walking to our cars, the restaurant owner sent 3 guys to intercept us and to demand that our interrupter go back and apologize for his rude comments. They had handguns in their belts. We had to insist that our interrupter go back and apologize, which he did. Once he came back and we got to our cars, he yelled at our drivers to get their weapons (Uzis in the car trunks) and follow him back to the restaurant. We were able to get him under control and calm the situation down. Not a fun time.

Allied Corporate Jet to DC

     At that time Russia had no hard currency so they relied on their new “western partners” to cover expenses outside Russia. We had invited The Minister of Atomic Energy (V. N. Michaylow) and his entourage for a reciprocal visit to Allied and then on to DC to make the political rounds with their embassy. After their visit with us in NJ, I arranged for them to travel via one of our corporate jets to DC. Such was their addiction that they ignored the “No Smoking” rules on the plane and chained smoked all the way to DC. Fortunately, I could not travel with them and remained at Allied. However, my pilots called me from DC to let me know that the Russians incessant smoking clogged up the on-board air filter and it had to be cleaned before returning to Allied. My pilots also warned me that they would resign before flying any more Russians anywhere! The Russians flew back to Moscow from DC on Aeroflot.

The Metropol Hotel

     We were quartered in the historic Metropol Hotel at the end of Red Square. This was a Czarist era hotel and had been completely reconditioned by a Swiss company.

trip to Moscow hotel
The Metropol Hotel in Moscow

As distinguished guests, the hotel General Manager spent a great deal of time with us. He was a Swiss national and worked for the Swiss company that had the management contract for the hotel. The Russians had absolutely no idea how to manage a world class hotel. The Swiss manager regaled us with tales of some of his trials and tribulations. Every day the Swiss management company had to fly in a completely loaded 747 with produce (plenty of produce in Russia but no roads or trains to transport fresh produce to Moscow), supplies of lamps, telephones, bed linen, towels, soap, shampoo etc. The Russian employees had never been exposed to such high-quality items so there was an almost daily shortage due to employee theft. They had to bring in trained Swiss/European workers to even get the restoration of the hotel completed as there were no skilled Russian trade craftsmen.  

     I have enjoyed many different experiences in my life, but I have to admit this was one of the most unusual and challenging in so many ways. I do not think I am alone in saying that the Russians are in fact different-for whatever reason. I am not sure that they will ever make it to the world peace table.

A Surreal Story – 1992

     As most of you know my post-West Point service was in the US Air Force as a B-52 pilot. At that time, the B-52 was one of the primary components of the nuclear deterrence arsenal. B-52s around the country would sit on alert ready to be airborne at a moment’s notice. Crews stood alert in shelters within running distance of the aircraft themselves. The aircraft were loaded with nuclear weapons and the targets were pre-determined. The crew had detailed maps of targets and routes penetrating Soviet airspace which they studied diligently.

B-52 Stratofortress

     After I resigned my commission in the USAF, I relocated to Silicone Valley and began my career in the infant laser industry (surprising as WP physics was not my best subject). I remained in the laser industry essentially for the rest of my working career with one major exception. While in the laser industry I was recruited by Allied-Signal (large multi-national conglomerate now known as Honeywell) to manage a division growing synthetic crystals that certain solid-state lasers required as the lasing medium. I spent the next 4 years in this position, and I must have done a creditable job as the company asked me to take over their nuclear division which made a critical component (uranium hexafluoride-UF6) of the commercial nuclear fuel cycle (commercial fuel only-no weapons).

     Fast forward to a different world right after the Soviet Union collapsed and the world was left with a pro-America, pro-democracy, pro-capitalism Russia (’91-’92).

And now the Surreal Story starts.

     The wall is down, and Russia under Yeltsin is embracing capitalism, democracy and the United States.  The welcome mat was open for American companies to come to Russia and form joint-ventures (JV) to teach the Russians capitalism.

Russian President Boris Yeltsin

     The Russian Ministry of Atomic Energy (Minatom) and the US Department of Energy (DOE) decided to work together to form a commercial joint-venture to take the highly enriched uranium out of the former Soviet Union warheads and dilute (using fluorine gas) the highly enriched uranium down to a much lower level capable of being used in commercial energy producing nuclear reactors. Truly Swords into Plowshares. At that point politics entered the scene as the Russians were growing weary of having the US government appear to dictate their capitalism efforts. Therefore, the Russians informed the DOE that they wanted to form this JV with an American commercial company and sell the now diluted uranium commercial reactor fuel to the world market.

     At that time my division of Allied was the largest producer of fluorine and UF6 gas in the world.  The DOE quietly asked us if we could take the lead in working with Minatom to form the JV on a commercial basis with DOE in the background.  The DOE insisted they be involved but not appear to be the lead in any JV.

     We put a plan together and presented it to the Allied CEO.  He reluctantly went along with the concept and supported me by putting the Allied government relations staff in DC at my disposal.

     I had minimal marching orders, the most significant one being the CEO pointing a finger in my face and telling me I could do pretty much what I wanted but under NO circumstances was I to get Allied in trouble with the DOE/US government. My continued employment with Allied depended entirely upon my obeying this edict. Beast Barracks all over again! Needless to say, I had absolutely NO interest in this endeavor, but orders had been issued.

     With the help of Allied’s government relations office in DC we formed the team. Max Kampleman, a former Ambassador-at-Large for the Strategic Arms limitations talks was our first selection. We then selected 2 members of a company with extensive experience in working with DOE/AEC nuclear fuel licensed plants. We also hired a Russian-born US citizen whose parents had immigrated to the US. He was fluent in Russian and English, and his father had connections with the Russian Academy of Science.

     After coordinating with the US (read politicians) and Russian government (Academy of Science and Ministry of Atomic Energy), we flew to Moscow first week of July, ’92.

To say that this trip for me personally was surreal was an understatement. My mission in the USAF was to destroy the country I was now visiting to form a joint business venture.  

     In any case, we approached our mission with dedication (if not enthusiasm). We spent the whole first week of July in negotiations and traveling to previously “secret” towns where nuclear weapons were manufactured. We were hosted and feted by the Yeltsin government and treated like distinguished guests.

     We obtained agreement of a draft joint venture document between ourselves and the Russian Academy of Science and The Ministry of Atomic Energy. This draft was finally executed by all parties. We returned in triumph (see attached period newspaper articles) **.  However, as is the case the majority of the time, the government forces involved (read politicians and bureaucrats) decided they did not really want commercial enterprise running the show. Consequently, DOE and Minatom took over the effort and formed another agreement to recover the war head uranium. To my knowledge everything stalled at this point and in spite of multiple announcements there was no significant highly enriched uranium recovery.

     I have intentionally downplayed the difficulty, serious and often contentious negotiations that occurred. I have also not referred to individuals by name unless they were public figures at that time. 

     At the time, this was a water-shed event and it would take volumes to relate all of the unique things that occurred. A major opportunity lost considering where we are today in our relationship with Russia. I have included several trip vignettes in Part 2 to provide some insights into the uniqueness of this endeavor.

**A newspaper on a table Description automatically generated