thedaysf

Aug 19 2015

The Medevac Flight – 1970

The Medevac Flight

by Pete Grimm

He hadn’t imagined going home this way. The cargo plane had two rows of bunks to accommodate the wounded, stacked side by side down its center and bolted to the floor. Racks of double bunks also lined the port and starboard bulkheads. Every bunk had a wounded soldier, or sailor or airman strapped into it on takeoff.

Nurses and corpsmen dressed in BDU’s moved from bunk to bunk administering medication, passing out bottles of water and sandwiches and offering words of encouragement. “You’ll be home soon.”

It was a long, long flight to Washington, DC. The plane would stop only once for refueling in Elmendorf Air Force Base in Alaska on the journey. Many bed pans and colostomy bags would need empting.

Nurse Holding Hand

He was a twenty-two year old second lieutenant and among the lucky ones assigned to the upper bunks because they could climb up and down on their own. Some in upper bunks lacked an arm or hand. He was among the especially lucky who were still whole.

With barely more than a month in country, an explosion had ended his tour. He hadn’t been wearing body armor, none of them had. My fault. I was in charge. It was so damn hot. Even so, I should have insisted.

No one else blamed him. They gave him a frigging medal, a purple heart, his wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time medal. Guilt was a constant companion.

Sufficiently far from the blast to survive, he sustained wounds from many pieces of shrapnel. Two punctured his left lung, two tore meat from his right shoulder, another tore meat from his left, another collapsed veins in his groin, smaller pieces peppered his body. His wounds had to be minor compared to those of his men who were closer.

He wondered what had happened to Swartz and Mendoza. It had been over a month and a half and no one had been able to tell him what had happened. Maybe they don’t want me to know. He felt guilty that he did not know, that he was going home without knowing, that he was going home at all. His body still needed rehabilitation, but he wasn’t like these others, truly disabled.

The novel propped on his chest was a gift from a helicopter pilot who had left on an earlier flight. The pilot had lost a hand and was worried how the loss would affect his wife, and how he would provide for his family, now that flying helicopters was out of the question. The pilot wasn’t whole and he still was. It was a simple as that. So why did he feel guilty even being grateful that he was whole? Did his gratitude suggest that the pilot, and all these men who had lost limbs, were something less? He really didn’t want to see it that way.

The nurse in his section of the plane was a first lieutenant, which meant she was probably older than he. She cropped her wavy blond hair above shoulder length, and wore no makeup. Baggy BDU’s cloaked what looked to be a great figure. The way she moved, her strength and grace and balance, suggested it was. He wanted it to be. Her mane framed a high forehead, wide cheekbones and bright blue eyes. A too-wide mouth, square jaw and a scattering of freckles made her more girl-next-door than model-beautiful, but more attractive for it.

Moving from bunk to bunk in his line of sight, the nurse distracted him from reading. With a touch here and word there, she gave solace to men who hadn’t seen a woman like her in quite some time. He hadn’t seen a woman like her in a long time. Those who were well enough hung on her words and basked in her smiles. Those who were not demanded most of her time.

When she passed, sometimes she would smile and ask how he was. Her name tag read M. Sommerville. He kept the exchanges short, even though he desperately wanted her attention too. The others needed her much more. M might stand for Mary. His mother’s name was Mary.

Walter Reed Army Hospital waited for him. He was healthy enough that he would probably complete his rehab as an outpatient. That meant time with his family, and a chance to connect with old friends before going back on duty. Will the wounds affect my next assignment? At least I can count on having a next assignment. The ceaseless drone of the engines lulled him to sleep.

He woke needing to pee. Climbing down from the bunk made his chest ache where the doctor had done emergency surgery under a local anesthetic to slip a vacuum tube between his ribs, drain the blood and reinflate his lung. He walked along the steel floor to join a line waiting to use the head. Bags of urine hanging off the sides of bunks of catheterized troops made him doubly grateful to be ambulatory. On the way back, he met her.

“I see you are up. How are you feeling?” she said.

“Good.” He lowered his voice. “Next to the rest of these guys, I’m doing great. You’re wonderful with them.”

Her smile lit the dark interior of the plane like a ray of sunshine. “Where are you from?” she asked.

Is she flirting with me?

“I’m from Alexandia, Virginia. When we hit the ground, I’m almost home. Where are you from?”

She’s even prettier when she smiles.

“I grew up an army brat, but right now, I’m from San Diego.”

“I’m an army brat too.”

Just then, one of the more seriously wounded men down the aisle moaned and asked for more medication. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

He went back to his bunk, climbed in and finally got into the novel the pilot had given him. When she would pass, she smiled and sometimes pause to chat.

We had a moment there. Didn’t we?

He let his mind drift over the events of the past year. Graduation leave, Officer’s Basic School at Ft. Sill, Jump School, Ranger School. Ft. Sill hadn’t been all studies. There had been wild parties, weekend football games in Dallas and U of O, dances at the O’ Club and beautiful women. Time at Ft. Benning managed to produce its own series of escapades. Life had been a blur. He had lit the candle at both ends and didn’t care. He lived like there might not be a tomorrow. As it turned out, there damn near hadn’t been.

He watched the nurse, ministering to the troops, smiling and sharing words as she passed. He soaked in the essence of the woman. Generous. Giving.

There’s no chance, but I’m losing a piece of my heart here.

Dragging a notepad from his duffel, he scribbled down what he was feeling.

On the ground, after the plane had taxied to the terminal, while preparing to disembark, he had a chance to speak with her one last time. “What does M stand for?”

She looked confused. “M?”

“Your name tag says your first initial is M. I wondered what M stood for?”

“Oh. It’s not my name tag. My uniforms weren’t clean and I borrowed this from a friend. My name is Nancy.”

He quickly scribbled something on the notepad, tore out a page and gave it to her. “I’d like you to have this.”

He shouldered his duffel and moved down the corridor towards the exit. He glanced back and waved. She held the paper in one hand and waved goodbye with her other, and turned to read.

Poem on Notepad

An Actual Event in Fictional Form

Jun 26 2015

The Challenger Remembered – 1986

By Suzanne Rice wife of COL Bill Rice, 1986, Kitzingen, Germany

The Challenger Remembered – 1986

By 1986, we had lived in a tiny German town near Kitzingen, Germany for nearly four years. Bill liked to say that when we got to Germany, he knew the most German having spent three years there from 1970-73. Since he rarely spent any time with German military personnel, he could say what many bachelors knew: “Zwei bier, bitte” (Two beers, please.) and “Wo ist der Bahnhof?”(Where is the train station?) In his second tour of Germany, he rarely used a word of German, either, while participating in many training exercises with only American forces. The family, instead, living in a small German village, was exposed to the German language daily. The girls were in German Kindergarden (age three through five) and Volksschule (first grade through fifth grade) using German each day with their teachers and classmates. In those four years, our daughters soon surpassed their Dad in German language skills (At aged six and nine, they never did order two beers nor ask about the bahnhof.) We were always grateful for their new language skills; in a pinch, we had some good translators in the family. In the four years from 1982-86, we had become dear friends, almost like family, with our German neighbors in Schwarzenau. We were adopted and have been back many times to visit our German “family” there!

In January 1986, we were shocked to hear about the Challenger disaster. On his way home from his duty day, Bill was stunned to hear on Armed Forces Network (AFN) on the car radio the news alert of the initial report of the disaster. He ran into the house and told us to turn on the radio. Later, we thought of checking our television which had only German television stations. Though we could not always keep up with the German commentary, it was obvious by just watching the video what had happened. We were all saddened by the photos we saw. There had been so much anticipation about the teacher in space. People in the US had been curious about what amazing things our astronauts would learn and many schools were anxious to see what the teacher in space would teach their students. It was a great blow to the nation. It turned out that our national sadness was shared by many throughout the world, not the least of which were our German friends and neighbors. Our family became the face of the U.S.A and many wanted to express their condolences to us for our country. They were all very kind in their concerns about our national tragedy.

Several months later, our 75 year old next door neighbor stopped at our house. He didn’t speak English, so the girls came to our rescue, interpreting for him. He asked if we had any pictures of the Challenger astronauts and, if we didn’t, could we find some for him – maybe, in a memorial book? The only place we had to look for American books was at the small Post Exchange (PX) at the nearest U. S. Army base a few miles away. I was not confident that there would be such a book published yet (no internet, then), but I told our neighbor that I would go to the PX and look around. I was delighted to find such a book there. When I took the book over to his house, I learned for the first time that he was a very talented artist. So, what did our old friend want with the photos of the astronauts?

Annually, towns around the Bavarian region of Franconia host hikes that take participants around the town and out into the woods, vineyards or farmland. These are not competitive walks, but rather more leisurely strolls and those joining in receive a souvenir of completion, sometimes, a commemorative plate, sometimes, a medal or beer mug. Participants can choose to walk for 5 or 10 kilometers to complete the adventure. The route is set up so that you can take as much time as you like to complete the walk since there is often an opportunity somewhere along the way to stop and enjoy the scenery with a glass of beer or another treat. People of all ages participate and many young families spend the day walking and pushing stollers through the course with little ones scampering along behind. This walk is called a Volksmarch or a Wandertag (day hike). Soon after the Challenger disaster, the

Kitzingen Volksmarch planning committee came to our neighbor to see if he would make a prototype sketch for the medal to be given out to those who would participate in their Wandertag. Normally, the medal or commemorative plate would bear the image of some special sight in the area such as the landmark, Falterturm (leaning tower) of Kitzingen. However, for the Volksmarch of 1986, they chose a different theme: they wanted to commemorate the Challenger astronauts and our neighbor was the man to whom they turned for the images that would be embossed on the medal.

Our family was quite touched with the kind sentiment that the committee showed by creating that special medal. Our neighbor made a beautiful sketch that became the Kitzingen Wandertag medal that many still treasure today. It was a lovely tribute to our American astronauts and a nice partnership between German and American neighbors.

Jun 26 2015

The Challenger Disaster and Beyond – 1986

By Jim Adamson, Location, Houston, TX

It was a bitter cold morning at Denver Stapleton airport as I did my preflight of the NASA T-38 that I had brought up to Colorado for some crew training for STS-61N. The wind blew a chill through me that I can only describe as haunting. One of those feelings that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

I had shared dinner the night before with my first Platoon Sergeant, then retired Sergeant Major. He had asked me, “Are you guys that good, or are you just lucky?” I said, “A little of both.” We’d had 24 successful launches, and while we’d had some close calls, I was confident in our first rate team and our equipment. Still, the rocket riding business is a dangerous game.

51l-s-124 — A Memorial to the Challenger.

Within minutes of completing my preflight I was warm and cozy in the cockpit humming along at flight level 410 headed back to Houston. As I crossed into Ft. Worth Center’s airspace I checked in and asked Center if they’d heard anything about the Shuttle Launch. The response was a rather obtuse deferral that I’d have to check with my Base Ops. While I thought that a little strange since the ATC guys always followed the Shuttle launches, I blew it off as a busy day for the controllers. Less than two hours after my take off from Stapleton I was rolling out on the runway at Ellington field in Houston. My Crew Chief dutifully awaited me as I rolled into the chalks and opened the canopy. My first words were “How’d the launch go?” His response: “The F#%$r blew up!”

It was January 28, 1986. I had just lost 7 dear friends and one of only 4 Shuttles in our fleet, The Challenger. Our luck had run out. The impact took a while to sink in.

What followed was nearly three years of painful rebuilding beginning with memorial services and ending with the second maiden launches of our remaining rebuilt Shuttles. The Rogers Commission was stood up to investigate and challenge every aspect of our design and operations. NASA responded with a revamped management structure and a tearing down and rebuilding of nearly every part of the Space Shuttle fleet and its operations. I, along with 10 other Astronauts, was assigned to management positions, most of us responding directly to the findings of the Rogers Commission. Dick Truly became NASA Administrator.

3_AdamsonjcD4testofColumbiaautopilot — Astronaut Jim Adamson at Work.

There were nine recommendations from the Commission that covered the waterfront of management re-structure, vehicle re-design, and procedural modifications. We worked incessantly to get our fleet back into space. I spent the first half of the reconstruction period in Shuttle Engineering Systems Integration and finished up leading a team to re-organize and re-staff the Processing Operations at the Kennedy Space Center. If there was ever a need for rapid Ops Planning this was it. We wrote and executed lots of them.

Those of us on the “inside” fully understood three important things. As hard as we might try, we could never make rocket flying safe, if we didn’t get back to flight quickly we might never get back, and finally, if we had another mishap in close proximity to Challenger the space exploration party would be over.

We finally did make it back to space and I am proud to have had the opportunity to represent the Class of 1969 on the second maiden launch of Columbia in 1989, and again on Atlantis in 1991. It took us another 19 years to lose another spacecraft and crew. About the same length of time as between the Apollo 204 fire, when we were Yearlings, and Challenger. 19 year spacing in that business isn’t really a bad track record.

Jun 26 2015

Star Wars Research in the Cold War – 1981

By Tom Ramos, Livermore National Laboratory located in Livermore, California

**Physicists of the X-Ray Laser Program – Tom Ramos is Up Front in Blue Jersey, Standing Next to Group Leader George Maenchen in Yellow Shirt**

In the summer of 1981 I resigned my commission and left West Point’s Physics Department to take a job as a physicist at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory. The Laboratory was generous in letting me pick a research group to join. After interviewing group leaders for four weeks, I met an Austrian born physicist, George Maenchen, who had explained to me that he was making a laser that emitted X-rays and was pumped by a hydrogen bomb. The idea sounded crazy, but also exciting, so I chose to work with George’s group, which was made up of only three physicists. My first work was to acquaint myself with several design computer codes, especially one that had been specifically created for X-ray lasers. This I did and soon enough I was responsible for designing a way for the laser to survive an initial atomic blast long enough for it to get pumped by a hydrogen bomb.
I went through an apprenticeship that lasted five years, during which I became very proficient with the powerful computer codes used at the Laboratory, I supervised the construction of quite a few X-ray lasers, and I participated in several nuclear tests. At one of those tests, we were testing a physics concept that would greatly improve the performance of the laser as a weapon. It was an important milestone for the program, and the renowned physicist Edward Teller came to witness the test results. While we were waiting for the diagnostic results to be processed I was asked to take Teller out to the crater that had just been created by our nuclear explosion. I said I would, and he and I had a wonderful afternoon together, mostly spent with him telling anecdotes of past nuclear programs.
Once we saw the test results, Teller decided to pay a visit to President Reagan to tell him that we had successfully tested a weapon capable of destroying nuclear weapons in outer space. A few days later I got to see the President make his famous “Star Wars” speech, in which he initiated his Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI). The X-ray laser program became the largest part of SDI. It was a very exciting time to be involved with the program, and we were soon inundated with reporters from around the world who wanted to know what we were doing. Some reporters from Newsweek Magazine came to the Laboratory and interviewed some of us, and took a photo of us in front of a laser target chamber, which is shown above.
The next year I had an idea about improving the laser to make it more brilliant, which is a physics term that meant it would make a brighter spot at the point it was aimed. Greater brilliance was essential if we hoped to be able to damage a Soviet weapon from a large distance. By that time, the national attention caused the design group to have grown considerably, and competition to get one’s experiment tested was fierce. I had to present my ideas before several peer review boards, and somehow, I managed to have several lasers included in the next nuclear test. I also had three physicists assigned to me to help finalize the designs for the experiments. The results of the test confirmed my predictions for the performance of the laser. The laser we tested measured the highest brilliance for any laser ever built by man, and it experimentally confirmed that we could indeed destroy a nuclear weapon launched into outer space from a great distance. I had a great feeling of satisfaction for accomplishing what I had set out to do, and felt gratified for any contributions our efforts made in ending the Cold War.

Jun 26 2015

Word in the World – 1987-90

By Geoff Moran, Frankfurt, Germany

My most interesting, challenging and fulfilling assignment in a twenty-four year active duty career was as the chaplain for American Forces Network – Europe. It came as the utilization assignment from a year’s schooling at Princeton Theological Seminary. From summer of 1987 to 1990, I was on the air, both AM and FM, six days a week to the American audience in Europe of 700,000. It was a very

Recording "Word in the World" — **Recording “Word in the World”**

unusual “pulpit” for a chaplain. Five days a week I gave three and a half minute morning devotional messages called “The Word in the World” and had a Sunday morning music-and-talk one hour radio show. As everyone knows a chaplain only works one hour a week, and for me it was only four minutes a day! But believe me, preparing and delivering 260 daily messages per year was much more difficult than preaching 52 Sunday sermons.

Armed Forces Network Logo 1990

Unlike preaching to a worshiping congregation, my listeners were in their cars, in the gym, making kids lunches for school, or getting ready for a morning formation. Our surveys told us 300,000 listened to that segment daily and I took that as a great responsibility to point to the spiritual dimension of life in each message.

Feedback from the audience came in many forms: letters from East Germans who heard the AFN signal from the West, an Army wife who said, “I know your voice better than Walter Cronkite’s,” a soldier who said in the weight room at the gym everybody kept working out during the news and sports but stopped and the room was silent during my message, and an Air Force Wing Commander who said, “I spend more time naked with you than my wife!” (He quickly clarified that he listened to me every morning when he was taking his shower.)

Most of us don’t know the many ways our lives have influenced others. Certainly we get some words of appreciation, but most of the time we don’t get the feedback or see the fruit of our labor. A very meaningful event for me came three years after I completed the AFN assignment. Back at a stateside post, a lieutenant colonel came to see me and introduced himself by saying, “You saved my life.” Long story short, he was in a crisis in his life, driving around a US base in Germany ready to commit suicide. The car radio was on and he said it was the right word at the right time, and his life turned around for the better from that point. Many of us don’t have the blessing I had that day to hear about how a word of kindness, encouragement or even correction affected someone. We can all hope our example, leadership and insights have left positive ripples that touch many lives.

The Medevac Flight – 1970

The Challenger Remembered – 1986

The Challenger Disaster and Beyond – 1986

Star Wars Research in the Cold War – 1981

Word in the World – 1987-90

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