In cleaning out Dad's things, I found that he had plans to write a 12-section book.  The title of the book is "Adventures in the Land of the Folding Nickel (Japan) including the Suez Fiasco, which was called by some the Suez Crisis

Premise -- How I managed to blunder through 2 plus years as an aviation maintenance officer without causing death or injury

Outline of book

1.  The Suez Fiasco
2.  How It Started -- R.O.T. C.
3.  To Active Duty- September 1954--loafing at Lackland A.F.B.
4.  Non Mechanical Me an Aircraft Maintenance Officer?  Yes!  Off to school at Rantoul Tech Chanute Airbase, Rantul, Illinois
5.  From Rantoul to Tokyo via Hawaii and Wake Island and on to Ashiya Air Base in Kyushu
6.  Life in the Land of the Folding Nickel.  Here I serve in Ashiya.
7.  Two weeks in Korea--Kee--Kee Kee Keoria--I want to go Pee Pee Pee Peoria!
8.  A serious moment Airplane crashes of planes from Ashiya
9.  Trips Hong Kong, Bangkok (via Vietnam) and Manila
10.  Time is up in Ashiya -- back to the Land of the Big PX
11.  Discharged from Active Duty at Parks AIr Base --- The Bar Sinister
12. Conclusion

[Note:  this section was handwritten and included with the typewritten chapters.]

When I arrived at Ashiya Air Force Base in Southern Japan in 1955, I wanted to do a good job as an Aircraft Maintenance Officer.  But I was concerned, that despite my training at an Air Force School, I was not suited for the job.

I am an unmechanical person. I had never owned a car and never tinkered with anything.  I was OK at the school until we got to the hands on stuff, where I had a real problem.  I decided to attack the problem from a different direction, rather than being hands on I would be more reserved on the job.

It worked out OK mainly because of the cooperation of a very good humored LINC Chief (the services now concedes officer.). We worked it out so that he took care of the planes with only minimum interference from me, and I took care of the mound of paperwork (which he hated).  This worked out OK.  Nobody got killed or hurt because of my acts or omissions.

It was about September of 1955 when I arrived in Tokyo, flush from completing a nine month course to be a "qualified as an Aircraft Maintenance Officer."  It was a serious blunder of the Air Force to waste this time and training on me.  My mechanical ability was pretty well restricted to screwing in a light bulb.  But it turned out that I failed the flight physical, borderline color blind, and they had a need for Maintenance officers.  My objections were "noted" and ignored.  So off I went to Aircraft maintenance Officer school at Chanute Field, Rantoul, Illinois.

I hooked up with a couple of guys who also were going to assignments in Kyushu, and we got the train to the station.  We go to the correct train and had about an 11 hour trip before us to get to Oongagawa, the closest town to Ashiya.  This was long before the Japanese high speed trains.

After being underway for a relatively short time we had to get off the train and on to another train.  The new train went the inland route, and the first train was scheduled to go down the coast.  The weather was foul, heavy rain and wind and we were approaching the Typhoon season.  The transfer of trains was wild.  The Japanese apparently thought that there was a shortage of space on the new trains.  Those rumors were false but my companions and I got pretty well run over with our baggage by screaming Japanese.

Once we got settled on the new train we were very happy to see it had a multitude of butch boys to serve food and drink -- INCLUDING BEER.  We settled into our trek with many bottles of Nippon beer.  Being true to our calling to be ugly Americans, each bottle rated a toast of "Sip" on a Nippon to feel your level best."

We finally arrived in Oonagawa, a small railroad junction town, and got a cab to Ashiya Air Base (about 15 miles).

Ashiya had been a Japanese Fighter base in the war.  Americans turned it into a base for C119s Flying Boxcars.  These were cargo paratrooper and airborne infantry planes.

The C119 was a 2 engine plane.  Prop engines no jets yet for transports.  Each engine was mounted on a boom that went to the tail section.  The cockpit and cargo--troop section was in a pod in the middle of the plane.  The cockpit was about 6 feet in front of the engines.  The left door was about two feet in from the left engine, making it very easy to lose your head if you went through that door while the props were turning.

The strip for take offs was marginal (short) for planes the size of a C119, but we made do with it (more later on the short field takeoff).

I was assigned to a squadron as assistant Maintenance Officer.  The maintenance office was  pilot and fine gentlemen and it was a pleasure to work for him.  He gave me certain duties to keep me busy.  Mostly paper work.  There was a log for every plane.  Any work on the plane had to be recorded.  Serious matters were marked with a red X and it took the signature of the maintenance officer or assistant maintenance officer to clear those entries when repairs had been made.

So I fiddle around with my duties.  I eventually become Maintenance Officer and held that job for a long time until I was passed to Wing -- the next level up to be assistant maintenance officer there.  This was not a promotion as we were having trouble keeping enough planes flying.

I don't believe I had yet been transferred to Wing, when the Suez Fiasco occurred.  We were called together for a meeting.  After a few words about the problems in the Mideast.  It is my recollection that we were told that Nasser had seized the Suez canal and the British and French were going into military action to get it back.  I can't recall if we were told that the Israelis also had invaded.  Then the hammer.  We were told we should immediately get yellow fever shots, which were required for the Mideast but not in Japan.

We were restricted to the base until further notice and told to prepare to fly to the Mideast to help the Egyptians flight the British and French!  There was stunned silence, and then a long drawn out "WHAT."  But we were told to shut up and obey orders.

I got my shot and my arm was sore for a few days, about the length of time for the Suez Fiasco to play out.  Of most concern was a the rumor that we were not sending ground troops or enough ground troops to guard the airfields were we would be operating. But not to worry.  We would be protected by the flower of the Egyptian Army.  That gave me a lot of comfort, with the British and French paratroops hurrying to see who would be the first to stick a bayonet in my rear end!

But in a few days, it all went away.

Here is what I later pieced together.  President Eisenhower and British Prime Minister Eden had tentatively agreed to guaranteeing the funds to Egypt to build the Aswan Dam.  Then they pulled out when further studies convinced them that this was too risky.

Nasser promptly went to the Russians who agreed to the funding.  He was still angry with the British.  Nasser and Eden hated each other.  To follow up with British Nasser seized the Suez Canal and nationalized it.  The Canal was operated by a private company whose shareholders were mostly British and French.  Their equity was now worthless, and the British and French employees who ran the canal were fired.  But the Egyptians were able to handle the Canal with no problems.

Eisenhower was proposing settlement talks and possible mediation.  He was not told that Britain, France, and Israel made secret plans to invade Egypt.  Nasser agreed to operate the Canal as an International waterway, but Egypt would get income from its operation.

The British and French proposed that Egypt and Israel withdraw their troops behind lines in the vicinity of the canal with British and French troops to occupy the Canal and its immediate surroundings.  This made no sense.  By this time the Israelis had invaded, but they were a long way from the Canal.  The Egyptians were in control of the Canal and its surrounding land, so they rejected this proposal.  The Egyptians sank some ships in the Canal, preventing passage by other ships.  At about this time, Eden began to realize his problem.  Most British oil imports came by tanker through the Canal.

The British and French bombed Egyptian airfields and other military targets on October 30 and 31, 1955.  British and French troops landed in Port Said on November 5.  But Britain and France accepted a cease fire by midnight on November 6.  The UN was bustling about and finally got the partners to agree to a ceasefire.  Eisenhower helped by putting a run on the British pound by having his treasury people sell English pounds.

Everything sorted out.  The shareholders got payment for their equity in about a year.  The English and French withdrew their military forces in short order.  So did the Israelis, except it took them longer to clear out to Gaza.

The Egyptian military had nothing to brag about.  But that seemed to make little differences.  Nasser had successfully stood up to Britain and France.

The big loser was Eden.  He was in poor health, and was not in power very long after this Fiasco.  The timing was poor.  Just a few years before, England had to hand over to India the right to run their own Country.  Now the English colonial were passing away.  

Guy Mollet was a prime minister of France.  Little was heard from him.  It seemed like France was just along for the ride.  After the Fiasco was over, it appears he did better than the British in salvaging something for his country, in the Mideast.

I graduated from High School in June 1950.  At that time there was concern about Korea.  I remember signing up for typing class.  Everyone was subject to the draft.  I intended and hoped to go to college, but if not, I wanted to be qualified for a job in a nice warm office, as opposed to freezing in a foxhole.  

I did go to college to the University of Kentucky.  And I joined their R.O.T. C. program--Reserve Officers Training Corps.

We had some classes that were not very exciting and did drill, etc.  In our Junior year, we were sent to camp.  We went for, I believe it was about a month to Kessler Field in Mississippi.

The function of this training was to try to mentally.  We would assemble in dress clothes for a parade, and then told we were to be in fatigues and given 5 minutes to go to our quarters upstairs to change.  Of course, once we reappeared and marched off they checked our rooms.  If any clothing was left out or hangers on your bed you got demerits.

One of the students was a comedian.  He came up with a song that went:

We were sitting in the day room shooting sh*t about the day
when the Captain entered the day room and here's what he had to say

Oh, your mirrors were quite dirty and I tore them off the door
And your beds were not made properly so I threw them on the floor

Then from a dark dank corner of the day room came a voice--it said
Captain we'll do the things you say, and we have no choice
But there is one thing we must tell you dirty mangy cur
Here's a few sweet words of wisdom--in a word its Bullsh*t sir
Oh, yes its Bullsh*t sir, you are a dirty cur, etc. etc.

Aside from this we marched--marched everywhere, bu the right flank march, to the rear march, left oblique march, etc.

I wondered why we were doing all this marching. We had one parade at the end of Camp, and I did not need all this practice for it.

Finally, it dawned on me.  It had very little to do with parades.  That is only a fringe benefit of close order drill.

The real purpose is to instill unquestioning and immediate obedience to orders.

If I took a bunch of young men with no training into the field at the foot of the hill which was swarming with a well armed enemy and ordered them up the hill, its likely there would be reservations and "sir let's talk this over."

But if the same group of men had had plenty of close order drill, up to and including "double to the rear to the right flank march," they would go right up the hill.

I was called to Active Duty in September of 1954.  I reported to Lackland Air Base in San Antonio Texas.

On arrival, we were treated more like privates last class than officers, but I sluffed it off.  They gave us various exams physical and otherwise to see what we were suited for.  I flunked the flight physical, having a slight color blindness problem.  It was so close that it probably should have been waived, and probably would have, except they had plenty of candidates for flight school or observer school (Navigator).

In the first two or three weeks, I was with several people that I knew from the University of Kentucky.  We all went through the same introduction to injections and other details of being on active duty.

We marched everywhere as a group, and of course we sang while marching.  Lackland Air Base was in San Antonio.

The songs that I recall were:

I came to San Antone honey, I come down to San Antone babe,
I come down to San Antone and some I'm going going home
Honey oh baby mine
Gimme your left your right your left
Gimme your left your right your left

And

I came here to marry you honey
I came here to marry you babe
I came here to marry you
But all I do is shine my shoe

Honey oh baby mine
Gimme your left your right your left
Gimme your left your right your left

And

I came here to wear those blues, honey,
I came here to wear those blues babe
I came here to wear those blues
But all I do is shine my shoes
Honey oh baby mine
Gimme your left your right your left
Gimme your left your right your left

We ate up the miles, marching and singing. 

So, I was unassigned.  I assembled in the morning for roll call and checked the board in the afternoon to see if I had been assigned anywhere.

It was hot during most of the days but quite chilly at the morning roll call.  All we had were khakis, so many of us wore our rain coats over our khakis.

But them came the pronouncement--drum roll please.

THERE WILL BE NO WEARING OF RAIN COATS FOR WARMTH

So we shivered away at the morning roll calls and goofed off the rest of the day.  To avoid looking like a slacker, I armed myself with a soldiers' friend.  A clip board.  No one bothers you if you wander about with a clip board with a few papers.

This lasted about 4 months and it was a great gig.  I was beginning to hope that they would never find me or something for me to do.

Most evenings, I went to the movies, either on the base or in San Antonio.  I saw the news reel of Willie Mays' great catch of the long drive by Vic Wertz (?) in the World Series--what a great way to live.

The only assignment I had was on the 2 occasions I was Officer of the Day--actually the night.

When Duty hours were over, I would sit by the phone, and take calls from families who had to reach officers with news of a birth, death, etc.

I was getting the reputation of being the oldest casual officer on the base.  I got approached by a lot of the new officers asking me to explain the procedure. I was within a few days of breaking the record for longest casual officer tour--the other person had an unfair advantage suffering a broken arm that laid him up for a week.

Then it unfortunately happened.

There was a note for me on the board. I was to ship out to Chanute Field, in Illinois.  I was going to Aircraft Maintenance Officer School.  I asked if I could be sent to some other training, but this was quickly denied,  They had seen enough of me at Lackland and off I went to Rantoul.

I somehow got to Rantoul, mostly by bus.  I did not own a car.  It was a rather damp and dismal place.  I remember the light in my room had a very low wattage bulb and you could not read for more than a few minutes.  But I soon encountered Harvey and Dick who were scheduled for this school.  In short order, we arranged to rent an apartment near Champaign, home of the University of Illinois.

We kept our distance from the University.  I think we were considered war criminals by the student body, since we were wearing uniforms.  I did make one brief exploratory visit to the University.  I encountered a large glass container--I would guess it was 10 gallons, and it contained what looked like a garden hose all rolled up.  The sign on the container said it was a worm that had to be removed from the insides of an elephant, and apparently stored in a preservative.

We did attend a few basketball games at Illinois, but that was about it.

The first part of school was easy.  Office work type stuff.  Then we got into the technical stuff, and I began to have difficulty.

I stayed with it.  I could understand lift and drag and so on.  Then we got to electricity, the "killer course."  I remember the instructor had a blackboard that want around three sides of his office on which he drew the wiring in a plane.

This was a real challenge, but I really studied and passed electricity, as did my friends, Harvey and Dick.

As Harvey said "So much for the myth of electricity."

We had a little side show with the 3 girls who lived in the apartment across the hall.  Just card games and such for me and Harvey, but Jane and Dick really hit it off.  After we all left, we later found out that Jane and Dick had married.

After electricity, there was only one more course.  Something to do with hands on checking of electrical circuits with various tools.  I didn't have the slightest idea about this, and I flunked the course and had to take it over.  I didn't do much better the second time, but I think the instructors had figured out this was a good as they were going to get from me and decided to ship me along, to be someone else's problem.

I stayed in the apartment after that others had left to go to their assigned duty stations, and I was able to get a ride to class with the next team of trainees that was just two weeks behind my original group.

When I was ready to leave, the Apartment Manager sent me a note that the rug was worn, and he wanted a certain amount for repairs.  I thought it was nothing but reasonable wear and tear, but I divided the total by three to determine my share, and left him that amount of money, and I told him I was sure that Harvey and Dick would pay their shares.  I believed that he had their addresses with the lease papers.  I packed my bags and walked out, leaving him a note and a check for the amount calculated.

I walked a couple of blocks to where I could catch a cab and took the train--pretty pathetic--to Indianapolis where I got a real train to go home of my leave before going to my assignment in Ashiya AIr Base, Japan.

I had an interesting side issue in Cincinnati, which was very close to my home.  Since I was going to Japan, I went to a large bookstore in Cincinnati to buy a book about Japan.  They acted as though I had asked for a book about travel to the moon.  They had nothing.

So, I was going to have to face the challenge of Japan with no background.

I spent a few day with my parents in Northern Kentucky before starting my jaunt to Southern Japan.

I flew from Cincinnati to Midway in Chicago.  This was my first commercial flight.  I had been up in a small plane white at summer camp at R.O.T.C. even handling the controls under close supervision, for about five minutes.  I don't recall what type of plane that was, except it was a small two engine plane that accommodated about 5 or 6 people.

I got to San Francisco and spent the night in a local hotel named King Edward.  It is still there.  The next day, I took a bus to Parks Air Base, in what is now Dublin. 

Parks was an Air Base, but with no airplanes and no equipment, like a runway, for airplanes.  It is best described as a processing center.  I did some paperwork and was told when and where to report.  I spent the night on the base.  Fortunately, it had a movie theater, where I saw a movie entitled The Bar Sinister.  It was a rather good movie about a young man who got involved in dog fighting.  More later on this movie.

At Parks, they put us on a bus--Government Issue, and we went to an Air Base near Sacramento.  I can't recall its name, except that it was a S.A.C. base, Strategic Air Command, with planes loaded with bombs in the air 24 hours a day.  It seemed an odd place from which to ship people from overseas posts, but there may have been a good explanation, like lengths of runways.

The plane we went on to Hawaii was a Constillation or Super Constillation, the work-horse of the Air Force at that time for hauling troops or cargo.  It looked very good from the outside, but we got a big jolt when we got on board.  The plane was set up to haul cargo.  The "seats" were  a combination of metal pipes with webbing attached,  They came down from the roof of the plane, providing you with a small place on which to place your rear end and "enjoy" the flight.  After a discussion with the people on the left and right of me, we dubbed the seats "hemorrhoid promoters."

Somehow, thanks mostly to my stack of paper back books, I survived the flight to Hawaii.

At Hawaii, we had about a day and a half to wait for the next flight to Tokyo.  I met up with another officer and we went out for a big dinner and then on to a night club where Mel Torme was singing.  I thought he was great, although as I recall this was at a low point in his career.

We dutifully returned to continue the trip to Japan on the pipe and web seats.  A refueling stop was required at Wake Island.  Wake Island is roughly shaped and I don't know its dimensions, but I would guess that it is about 25 miles by 15 miles.  I know that coming into land that you could see the entire island from the plane window.

We arrived early in the day and had several hours on the island before departure.  We found the officers club and I think we had a beer.  It was a very pretty setting on one side of the island.  Then I was wandering around by myself and came across some war wreckage, including the rusted remains of a landing craft.  It was clear from the remains that this indded had been a brief but brutal fight.

We got back on the plane.  By now it was late afternoon and I slept a while on the trip to Tokyo.  I remember shortly after awakening approaching the Japanese coast with Tokyo straight ahead and the glow of the lights of Tokyo.

It was very exciting for a little traveled boy me.

I got to Ashiya as previously related.

Why is Japan the land of the folding nickel, you ask.  Because the nickel DID fold!

We had folding nickels, dimes, quarters, one dollar and five dollar and ten dollar bills.  But costs were so low that was no problem.

In Japan, we were paid in Military Payment Currency or Military Payment Script--M.P.C.  It could be transferred into Yen for off base spending.  I think it was 260 Yen for one dollar.  The official (civilian) rate was 300 yen per dollar.  This difference was part of the Status of Forces Agreement.  We called it screw the servicemen.

But, money was no problem.  I was paid $200 a month, and lived very well.  Single officers like me lived 4 to a bungalow.  Each officer shared a maid at some absurdly low price.  Drinks cost 15 cents each at the Officers Club and food was similarly low price.  A fifth of very good scotch cost about $1.50.  After about a year, I was promoted to First Lt. and my pay went to $220 per month.  Most of the officers were pilots and they got an extra $100 per month for flight pay.

Married officers and their dependents could live in on base housing.  But a large number of them opted to rent off base at very cheap charges, with maids, gardeners, etc.

In those days, we had no women in the military, except for nurses.  It was very hot in Ashiya.  I can remember we would invite nurses over to our place to play bridge.  There was no air conditioning and we sat around in shorts drinking scotch and playing cards.  We didn't mess with the nurses in a romantic or sexual way.  I know of only one nurse and one officer that got married.

I had the big attraction, a fan that sat on the floor with blades parallel to the ground.  Everyone sat around the table with the breeze blowing on them.  I brought the fan back from Japan and I still have it!  The last I checked it was still working fine.

For the single male officers there was plenty of attractions of the opposite sex.  Ashiya was a small town, with many bars, each of which had its full compliment of bar girls.  Officers generally avoided the bars in Ashiya and ranged further afield to Fukuoka about an hour to the south by train or to Kokura about 40 minutes to the north.

As I previously mentioned, initially, I was assistant aircraft maintenance officer.  The man who was maintenance officer was a fine gentlemen and we had a good top sergeant.  The place ran fine.  I was assigned some routine tasks which I carried out without difficulty.

Later I was promoted to maintenance officer, and I had my conference with our top sergeant who had 20 plus years experience working with airplanes.  I proposed and he readily agreed that he would do most of the work keeping the planes in shape, if I would take care of the sizable burden of paper work.  I was not totally relieved of the obligation to "keep them flying," but this worked well for a time.

I have trouble remembering what happened, but I think it was when I maintenance officer.  The base staged an exercise, with all squadrons to simulate a war time operation.

All of the squadrons on the base were involved.  Fortunately, they were not carrying troops.

The plan was to have one plane take off and another plane around the middle of the runway and a third plane at the top of the strip, just beginning its takeoff role.

Remember this had been a fighter field and the runway had little spare room for C-119 take offs.  Also remember that the engines were mounted on booms which extended to tail sections.

As our planes were getting ready to take off, I made some remark about, I hope we don't have to abort (plane can't take off and slams on its brakes to stop on the runway).  A newly arrived sergeant replied that "planes in his outfit did not abort."

A few minutes later after these words of wisdom were uttered, a plane did abort.  The following plane was already in its takeoff roll.  The first plane's nose dipped down with the application of the brakes, so the tail came up.  The second plane did a "short field takeoff."  Up came the nose, up came the landing gear, balls to the wall (both throttle knobs were pushed away from the pilots full power) and the pilot and copilot both pulled back on the wheels--somehow it cleared. It looked like about a foot, but it was probably more like a yard.

The noise from the engines of the following plane was all that could be heard.  It sounded as if all the Hounds of Hell had arrived.  But it made it.  I think they heard those Engines about 400 miles or so away in Tokyo.

The rest of the exercise went smoothly with no more dramatics.  I did not see the wise speaking sergeant around after the short field takeoff.

All I could think of was Billy Mitchell.  He proved that you could take off twin engine -26s from an aircraft carrier, which couldn't be done according to the book.  He had one advantage.  I don't think all of those B26s "took off."  I think they flew to the end of the carrier and several "mushed" (dropped down about 15 feet or so) while they were struggling (successfully) to fly away.

I got a pleasant surprise on my birthday.  I was called over to Wing.  A new C-119 had been delivered for my squadron.  I thought it was very nice of the U.S. Government.  The plane cost about $250,000.

A little later, I reconsidered my "good luck."  I had to sign for the plane and everything on it.  No one was going to steal the plane, but the little things like flash lights disappeared immediately.  I made a point to get friendly with the supply officer.  He was a nice guy and had one motto: "One must expect losses."  He was the guy I had to satisfy when I left that the flashlights, etc. were all accounted for.

We had another problem.  The planes were aging and it was hard to get parts, despite my "Birthday Present."  It's very easy to get into the situation of cannibalization of parts from one aircraft for use on another plane.  Before you know it, you have 3 or 4 planes that can't fly.

That really complicated things when the Typhoon season arrived in late fall.  Typically, the storms would start down in the Philippines, move up to Iwo Jima and then head for us.  We evacuated all the planes that could fly and then held on.  At one time, they had a rule that there had to be a pilot in each of these abandoned aircraft.  That made no sense.  There is nothing a pilot could do.  They finally abandoned that rule.

When Typhoons came, the first thing to do was to lay in a supply of booze.  The officers club might be close, they might put a prohibition on the sale of booze, etc.  Then those of us remaining, non flying officers like me and pilots whose planes couldn't fly retreated to our bungalows.  These were rather flimsy structures and we would pass the time by opening the windows on one side and closing them on the other to try to balance the wind pressure in the building.  It was always strange when you were in the eye of the Typhoon  It was deathly quiet, and there was no wind at all.  Then, it would start again.

After beating us up a little, the Typhoons  always seemed to veer away and go up the sea in the space between Japan and Korea.

The planes were getting more beat up from frequent landings, some on beaches or other non-suitable airstrips.  The long boons were a sheet metal nightmare.  We ran the air born "Jot Em Down store" for all military in Korea or Japan or sometimes into the Philippines. We had regular routes delivered food, drink and other stuff to bases in this area.

I finally got sent over to Wing to be assistant maintenance officer there.  This was not a promotion, nor really a demotion.  I was glad for the change.  Things had changed at the Squadron.  The Line Chief that I had a great relationship with was replaced by a new sergeant with more time in grade. I never had the easy working relationship with the new man, so I was not unhappy to go.  The new job involved a lot of organizational stuff and they were quite happy with me.  

I especially liked the Major who commanded the Wing Maintenance Group.  He got fed up with this men avoiding getting their shots.  We were always getting shots.  So one day he called an assembly for a parade and led everyone to the dispensary to get their shots.

The Major went first, a Captain second, then I came through.  Senior rank went first and we all got our shots.  That's the way to do it, rather than individual pestering of men.

I should mention two other things at Ashiya.  One was Ricky Dozan movies.  Rickey Dozan was a Japanese movie star.  Every movie he made--or at least every one I saw, was the same.  We saw these at the Japanese theatre in Ashiya.  They were in Japanese with no subtitles--but none was needed.  In each movie, the first scene was a ball rolling over the ground or floor.  A child would scamper after it, but it came to rest at the man's foot.  You could not see the man only the foot.  But then the camera man, apparently, laying on his back, filmed upwards to Rickey Dozan, who was smiling and standing there with his arms on his hips, showing off his muscles.

Then about 5 ruffians would arrive, and Rickey would quickly dispatch them.  About 5 minutes later, there would be another scene with the bad guys trying with no better luck to best Rickey.  This continued throughout the movie, with Rickey regularly beating up the bad guys.

Later, Mike Mazurki an American actor and wrestler came to Japan.  Mazuki and Dozen toured Japan wrestling up a storm.  Of course, Mazurki was the bad guy.

The other thing was Sunburn.  During the summer months, all of the enlisted men liked to load around the beach.  Too much beer and they fell asleep and got burned.  So every Monday, the enlisted men would line up at the dispensary and get excused from duty because of serious sunburn.

The Wing Commander finally had enough.  He issued an Order that any man missing duty because of sunburn would be Court Marshaled.

That took care of that.  No one missed duty after that because of sun burn, but on several Monday mornings, I saw enlisted men moving and sitting very gingerly.

I thought I had a rather unsettling time when I agreed, by popular demand, to ride along with the squadron on night maneuvers.

We had about 16 planes take part in this maneuver.  It was.a dark and foggy night.  Not terrible fog, but enough to make you strain your eyes, trying to see clearly.  It was about 8 PM when we started.

We got airborne and cruised for a few minutes into a tight formation, following the commanders Order to “group.”  Then the command was to “disperse” and planes peeled off in various directions.  So far, so good.

Then after a few minutes, the Order was “Regroup.”  And every one came together again.  It was rather unnerving to see a wing tip suddenly appear in front of me and a little to the right.  I think it was within 50 feet of us.  It quickly dropped back and got into its correct slot.  

I really wasn’t bothered by this.  Our commander was a major and was an excellent pilot.  After flying along a few minutes we repeated this procedure, twice more I believe.  

As the grand finale, just in case you had kept your dinner down to this pint, we did “touch and goes.”  The planes in order would come into the landing field, put the gear down and just touch the wheels to the strip, then put the full power on and take off without ever having landed.

All of this took about an hour and a half.  For some reason,  I was never frightened in this, although I was nauseated by the “touch and goes.”

I was frightened for an instant in the maneuver involving the take off for Korea.  We were going for 2 weeks, setting up on a inactive based at K-6.  All the bases in Korea had numbers.  I can’t remember what--if any--town we were near.  We were going to run our usual delivery services to bases in Korea and Japan.  This base had only a housekeeping unit to keep it operational, in case it was needed.

We were loaded up for this flight, with everything you can imagine.  We took tents and heaters, tools, spare parts, etc.  The load on each plane was quite heavy.  We definitely were over grossed on the plane I flew in, and i think this was true of most of the planes.

Our airbase at Ashiya was right on the ocean.  At the end of the runway, the ground dropped off about 25 feet to a road that ran around the base, and it was about another 50 feet or so the ocean.

I think that I was Maintenance Office as the top N.O.C. that I got along well with was on the plane with me.  He was sitting across from me.  We had seats that ran the length of the cabin.

I remember lumbering down the runway and flying off the runway--no take off yet--and then the plane “mushed” down about 5 feet.  The gear came up and we struggled into the air.  During the “mushing” period, the sergeant looked across at me and smiled and lifted his feet up--so they wouldn’t get wet if we went in the water.  That did it.  I laughed, and the momentary fear passed.

There was a song that was popular in the Korean war.  I had a recording of it, but unfortunately it was broken on the way to the States at the end of my tour.

It went:

Kee Kee Kee Keoria -- Pee Pee Pee Peoria 

I wanted to go to Peoria but they sent me to Keoria

Kee Kee Kee Krimany its cold in Keoria

That’s all I remember of the song but those few words say it all.

We took along PSP, the initials stand for something, but what I do not know.  The PS.P was medal links, that were connected together in rolls.  There was not much runway or parking space at K-6, so we brought our own.  This is a reason why the planes were overloaded.  Fortunately, it was relatively dry in Korea and the P.S.P. dint’ sink much into the ground.

Korea was a miserable place.  I remember little of it.  We had tents each with a big oil burning stove.  One of our pilots was standing too close, trying to warm up and got a nasty burn on his rear end.

I talked to a couple of officers that were stationed at the base.  There were a number of South Korean employees, and these officers slept every night with guns under their pillow, just in case the employees got too eager, or off base people were able to sneak on the base.

There was one young Korean lady that worked at the base.  She was quite attractive and was named Miss Kim.  Everybody in Korea seems to be named KIM.  She was very popular.  I kept my distance to avoid getting run over in the crunch.

I spent every night at the officer’s club, having drinks, for 2 reasons.  To forget about Korea and to get warm.

Finally, the two weeks was up and we loaded up the planes again, and want back to Ashiya.  It looked great after Korea.

The flight back was on a cold, clear day.  We flew over mountains and valleys.  All I could think of was the some American troops had fought in this placed.  How they did it was beyond me.  They had no tents or stoves or heaters and had people shooting at them.  My hat is off to them.

DO NOT ever mention to me how wonderful the museums, etc., are in Korea.  I’m not interested.

I was in Korea, saw Korea and got out.

One thing is true.  You know it is spring in Korea, when the mud gets soft.

We had a great deal of fun at Ashiya, but some very sad times involving crashes.  On a beautiful day we lost a plane in the bay right next to the Base.  I was at the flight line, and I was the Maintenance Officer at the time.  Someone dashed in and said there had just been a crash in the bay of a plane from our Squadron.  Fortunately, one of our very experienced pilots was there.  We had only one plane available.  That plane had just had a new engine hung on. The rules required that a new engine had to run on the ground for I believe it was 10 hours. before taking the plane up.  We all ignored that rule, jumped in the plane and flew over the bay.  There was our plane in the water, obviously heavily damaged.   

It turned out the entire crew had been killed.  

We were going to be short a plane, so our pilot, being an old hand, gave this one the necessary check of feathering the prop on the new engine and then starting it up again, while we were in the air.

From the reports that we received, the crew in the crashed plane had been buzzing the fishing boat, when something happened.  I could have been a sudden downdrift on the plane or a sudden uplift on the boat that raised its mast.  The general consensus was that the plane clipped a wing tip on the boat’s mast, but no one knew for sure.

This was a real blow.  This was our show plane.  If some higher ups were going to visit and inspect some planes and maybe take a ride in one, this was the plane that we steered them to.  It had.a good crew, possibly not our best, as there were others with more experience, but they did an excellent job of keeping the plane squeaky clean.

Of course, there was.a Court Of Inquiry to find out what happened, and as Maintenance Officer, I was called to testify.

I appeared, saluted, and gave my name rank and position.  I don’t remember much of what they asked.  They were looking for some evidence of a maintenance or a part failure, but seemingly not too diligently.

I appreciate that it is very tough to report up the line that the two pilots had killed themselves and their crew while buzzing a fishing boat, but that appeared to be what the evidence indicated.

The report got sent up the line, and I heard no more about that crash.  This was.a very hard time around the base.  I knew the copilot pretty well.  What a pity.

There was.a crash in Northern Japan of a plane from our base, but not from my Squadron.  It was.a nighttime crash.  I think they concluded that the pilot and copilot had fallen asleep and missed a checkpoint where there were to make a turn and flew into a mountain.

I knew the Maintenance Officer from that plane’s squadron.  He went through a pencil gallery.  He said that the questioners asked a lot of questions about the brakes.  He told me that out of frustration when asked further about the condition of the breaks, he replied that it sure did stop.

There was another crash during the time I was Assistant Wing Maintenance Officer.  A C-119, not from my old squadron, crashed on a dark, and foggy night, killing all on board.  And a helicopter sent out for rescue, also crashed killing that crew.

The bodies were removed.  Then I was sent to the crash site with a crew to try to recover the pistons from the engine.  The word was that if someone cut into one of the pistons that it could explode.  I don’t know if this was accurate, but in the Service, you do as told.

We got up the hill to the crash site and looked things over.  It was a steep hill and was going to take some doing to get the pistons out and down the hill.  I reported back to my C.O.  They were able to get a crew together to get most of the engines out of the plane and put them on large make shift sleds and slide them down the hill.

The extent of damage to the Helicopter was impressive.  At the time, I had not been up in a helicopter.  I decided to stay away from helicopters, up to and including now.  There had been a lot of fire damage to the helicopter.  Someone told me that manganese was one of the materials used in a helicopter and that it could burn.  I don’t know if that is true or not, and expect that helicopters are now made from different materials.  But, I’ll pass on them.

Koreans were the king of scrap dealers.  Some of the enlisted men had been in the Korean war and did not like Koreans, North or South.  They suggested, why not leave the scrap wiht the hot pistons on top of the hill.  In all likely hood, Koreans would try to salvage it, and might blew themselves up.  I don’t think this was a serious suggestion, and it never reached the Brass.

I also passed on Dumbos.  Those were air seas rescue planes. I was in the cockpit of a Dumbo once when they had turned on the engines.  The noise was unbelievable.

The two engines were mounted on the wing above the cockpit, but right next to the cockpit. I thanked them profusely for the offer, but passed up the chance to ride in a Dumbo.

I think that the crashes that I described were the only ones that happened to Ashiya planes while I was there.  Each and every one was a tragedy.

But when you get a bunch of young men flying in most any kind of weather, landing on strips that ranged from good to very marginal, things are going to happen.

TRIPS TO HONG KONG BANKOK VIA VIETNAM AND THE PHILIPPINES

One advantage that I had in my job was the ability to get trips to some interesting places.

My first opportunity was a trip to Hong Kong.  I think this was in 1956.  Some of us got a ride on a plane heading there.  This is the first time I had ever been to Hong Kong.

The contrasts were very great at that time.  The very poor Chinese lined on Sans-pans.  The British lived quite well.

One afternoon, I went by myself to the Island and took a cab to a hotel up the hill a way.  It was mid afternoon, and soon the British piled in from their games of rugby or soccer.  They lived it up and I had my tea observing them.  If anyone ever had it made, it was those chaps.

I spent the rest of the time wandering around the city.  A good show all around.

The next trip was Bangkok, by way of Vietnam.  We had a order to deliver a fighter plane engine to Vietnam.

One problem was that the cargo doors, in the rear of the plane, “Clam Shell” doors would not open in the air.   They did on a few later made C-119s, but not on any of our planes.

This could cause a real problem in case we lost power in one of the engines and tried to stay in the air on a single engine.  Fortunately, no problems occurred with the engines, but I must confess that I thought of this more than once flying over great stretches of the  Pacific and then big stretches of jungles covering much of Southeast Asia.

It’s my recollection that we stopped in the Philippines to refuel and take a quick break and were back on our way.  I think in Vietnam that we stopped in Na-Trang to unload the engine.

We finally got to Bangkok,  After catching up on sleep, the first day, we went out and about to see what we could see.  I think I did the whole tourist thing, seeing may things, including statutes of Budding, standing, sitting, sleeping, etc.

We also encountered the world’s greatest bar.  The name may have been Ho Ten Lau’s.  It was an huge place and they had over 100 bar girls to drink with you, dance with you, etc.  They also sold Tiger beer, which was great.

The best thing in Bangkok were the crowds.  It was very hot.  So, one day we went out for a walk.  We were walking in a street  that was closed to autos or buses.  We were about 25 to 30 people abreast on this fairly wide street.  There were many people in front of us but few people behind us.  The thought occurred to me that I was in a line wiht all the people in the world, and I wondered where we were going.  Many years laster I was in Athens with my then wife.  She did not feel well on a hot day and opted to stay in the hotel while I went out for a walk.  I wanted to the local fruit market, a big market that took up a large square.  Just as I approached the market from one side I looked to the other side.  Here they came hundreds and hundreds of people walking toward me 25 or 30 abreast.  THIS IS WHERE THE LINE CAME OUT.  Maybe they were the same people.  Maybe 25 years is about right to walk from Bangkok to Athens.

The trip back was uneventful.  We didn’t have to worry about what we would do if we had a single engine.  If that happened we could have made it to base on one engine.

I also had a trip to the Philippines, destination Clark Air Force Base.  Clark was an old Pre World War II base.  It was very fancy . . . looking like the world’s biggest country club.  In recent years it was destroyed by a volcano eruption.

We decided to take our motor scooters.  Most people in Ashiya had motor scooters.  The most popular by far were Lambrettas or Vespas, but I owned one of the few Coleman’s on the base.  I had purchased it from an enlisted man shortly after I arrived.  At one time it had had a series of gears, but they were long gone.  It has two speeds -- stop or on the way to being wide open.

We were viewed by most of the contingent at Clark as unmentionables. We whisked off the plane on our scooters and the fun was one, cruising the sizable area of Clark Field.

I think part of our unpopular reputation was a hold over because of an officer who had been in a predecessor unit to our squadron.  Supposedly he had a snootful was on his scooter and collided with a horse and wagon.  Untangling himself from the wreckage, the legend goes, he stood up, hauled off and hit the horse dropping it in its tracks.  I don’t know if this is true or not, but it made a good story.

One of the officers at Clark had been one of my R.O.T.C. instructors, so I looked him up, gave him a call and was asked to come to his place.  He was a nice guy and looked very happy.  He was wanted to to spend as much time as possible there at Clark Field.

We went to town to see the sites and wound up as usual in a bar.  The bar girts were interesting.  They had one phrase on meeting you -- How long you stay P.I?  Which seem to mean “How long have you been in the Philippines,” or How long are you going to stay in the Philippines” or “What’s your shoe size?”

Most of the bar girls could not understand each other some spoke Tagalog, some Spanish and some other languages or dialogs.  Most spoke some pit-kin English and we spent much of our time trying to translate between them.

We got home from the Philippines without incident.

The last trip I can remember was my trip with Perry, my friend from Texas, that I met at Lackland Air Base.  He was stationed in Okinawa.  Perry came up to meet me, and we set off on a 2 week tour of Japan, avoiding US influence.

I think the trip included Nagasaki and Hiroshima and then on to the Tokyo area.  We visited a small and very nice town north of Tokyo.  There we encountered a nice young lady with limited English who was trying to make some name slips in English for things in an exhibit.  We did our good deed, working one day to help her out.

While there I wandered into a rather nice jewelry shop.  There I saw Mike Mazurki who was shopping wiht a beautiful young Japanese girl. We then went to Tokyo and went to a very modern club, with lots of dancing girls.  Perry and I were shown to a ring side table.  Then the music, I think it was a rumba started, and suddenly, the girls were dancing with each other and gyrating all around our table.  To preserve ourselves from being crushed by flying rear ends, Perry and I invited  two of the girls to sit down with us.

I had a couple of other short trips to Tokyo.  I got picked up at the base by a private airline that ran some routes for the Armed Forces.  Many of these guys were veterans of hte old flying tigers.  They ran a very tight schedule, on the ground, unload and load and back in the air in under 10 minutes.  They flew mostly C46s, hte cargo plane wiht a crease down its side.

On one of those trips, in the street, I ran into someone I knew from the University of Kentucky.  I had not seen him since I left the University.  I went out that night, on the town, wiht him and his friends.

I had some good trips in Asia.

As previously described, Japan was the land of the folding nickel.  The US was the land of the big P.X. (Post Exchange -- the store where you could by most things.)

Soon, I would be getting ready to go.  But first there were things to do.  It’s my recollection, that there were still a few loose ends on the aircraft equipment that I had signed for, mostly flashlights and cargo tie down chains.

This called for another visit the Supply Officer.  He was in his usual good mood, announcing that “We must accept losses.”  I obliged by having the sheet metal shop make up some small hollow metal cylinders, which were accepted as salvaged flashlights.  Cargo chains were not much of a problem.  Take one broken cargo chain, cut it into three parts -- and Eureka!  You have three cargo chains to be salvaged.

I can’t recall the date, but it seems to me that it was around this time the base was having a flying competition.  This was mostly close formations of three C119s.

For some reason, none of the pilots of my old squadron were interested--until three days before the competition.  Then three of the most senior pilots got together with their crews, practiced some fro two days and won handily.  Those guys were really good pilots.  

One night the nurses returned the favor and invited us over to listen to their radio.  They had a very good high powered radio that picked up a lot of stations.  We listened to The Goon Show with Peter Sellers.  It was broadcast on BBC and picked up on the Armed Forces Network.  The pretend sponsor was Baboon Cigarettes, and it was breathlessly announced that the “cigarette company” was bringing out a new King Size brand named Gorilla.  There was a great problem getting the gorilla back into the package after removal.  I laughed so hard that I got a bad nosebleed.  Fortunately for me, I had the best of treatment from the nurses.

At about the same time, some enlisted men were due to rotate to new duty stations.  This is when I encountered the dreaded FIGMO curse.

If you were an enlisted man you were often afraid of getting punished by being sent to a crummy new station.  But your orders were usually cut three to four months in advance.  It was practically impossible for someone to change your orders once they were cut (issued).

So once an enlisted man had his orders cut, he could go FIGMO.  That means “F--- You, I GOT MY ORDERS.” Not everyone took this attitude, but a number did, and it was considered impolite to ask an enlisted man who was FIGMO to do anything.

I recall earlier, when I was a Maintenance Officer of teh Squadron, when I had to beg a sergeant to go as a radio man on a flight.  He kept saying, “But, Lieutenant, I’m FIGMO.”  He finally went on the flight, but I felt like a cad and a scoundrel for making him do it.

Some of these men had a FIGMO tree.  It was a piece of paper with a Christmas tree drawn on it with small circles which were numbered from one to a hundred.  Each day you marked off a circle.

One of my last stops on the base was at the PX, where I bought a Rolex watch for $50.  No, it was not a used watch or a knock-off.  It was the real thing.  This was 1957 and there were no taxes on items sold in the PX.  I still wear it.

I remember many things about Ashiya.  Most of the officers brought over four door cars.  When their tours were up they sold them to Japanese civilians to use as taxis.  I still had the only motor scooter which I sold to an enlisted man.  The only cars they had in Japan at that time were tiny, and the substitute for a pickup truck was a motorcycle with a bed for cargo.

I remember one trip coming back for Tokyo to Oongagawa and seeing in Hiroshima a young man, obviously waiting for his train to his job, who was performing a series of exercises on the platform.  I thought then that these people were still down but showing great signs of life.

I got the sheet metal shop to make me up one large trunk for things to ship home.  I took one B-4 bag with me.  We caught a hop on a flight from Ashiya to Tokyo.  In Tokyo, once again, I want through the drill at Tokyo International upstairs downstairs etc. of getting to a plane to get out of Japan.

What a pleasant surprise the flight was.  We had a Flying Tigers Airline flight with real seats, stewardesses, etc.  We spent a short time at Honolulu to refuel (No need with this plane to stop on Wake island for fuel.). Then on our way to an air base near Sacramento, and then to a bus to Parks Air Base.

[Note:  this section was found on Charles' MacBook.]

I got a commission while I was in the Air Force ROTC. I went to a Air Base near the University of Illinois. I ended up flunking one course in maintenance. After my second try I passed though. After this I went to Texas but I didn’t have an assignment so I wasted time for awhile (2 months). My first assignment was in Japan. When I arrived at Japan there was a massive storm. I remember having a beer with friends on a train and we’d say things like “sip-on in Nippan”. We heard about a few planes crashing right in the water near base. Apparently, they were showing off in their planes but they boasted beyond their abilities and ended up crashing. They broke the mast of one of the ships.

They wanted to blame someone so the pilots were in need of a scapegoat. They desperately tried to blame me but they couldn’t conclusively pin me down for anything in particular. So they wanted to blame the maintenance; including me. It was certainly a frightening experience. There was a plane called the C119 and it cost roughly 250,000 dollars. When I think back on those times I remember all of us loving and enjoying what we were doing. It was completely against my nature to work on mechanics given that my nature wasn’t mechanically inclined. I wanted to be an adjutant pushing paperwork rather than working on something I didn’t have a knack for. 

One long cold night the co-pilot along with the pilot himself fell asleep and crashed into a mountain.

We arrived at Parks and slept for a time.  We did paperwork the next day and were to leave the base a civilians the following morning.  I want that night to the base movie theater, and saw The Bar Sinister, the same movie that I had seen at that same theater about two years before.  They regularly changed films at this theater, and it was just a quirk that this movie had been reissued at that time.

The next day, I hooked up wiht a couple of guys, one of whom I had known in Ashiya and we all went to San Francisco on a bus provided by the Air Force.  We checked into a hotel adn that night went out and about, checking into a night spot where they were featuring the music of Earl “Father” Hines and with Muggsy Spainer on trumpet.

The next day we all went our separate ways.  I had decided to go home by train to get familiar again with the U.S.A.  I took a train to St. Louis.

The trip was great.  Japan is a lovely country, but you miss the glory of the Sierras, the plains, the lakes and rivers that we have here in the U.S.

I spent the night in St. Louis and while sitting around the next day waiting for the train went to a bar that had the Cincinnati Reds playing the St. Louis Cardinals in a televised double header.

I think Gus Bell was the Reds regular center fielder but he was injured and was going to be out for a few weeks.  So the Reds had recalled from the minors Bob “Swish” Thurman.  He had been in the majors before and sent back to the minors.

I think the games were being played in St. Louis.  I remember we were listening to the St. Louis announcer Thurman had a super day.  I think he had two home runs and four other extra base hits.  I remember the announcer repeatedly saying about Thurman -- sounding more bewildered each time.  “How did they ever send that guy back to the minors?”  Thurman had his day but he cooled off.  I’m not sure but I think he was back in the minors by season’s end.

I caught the train to Little Rock where I visited a friend from college for a day or two.

Then I took a train to Cincinnati where my parents met me.

After release from Active Duty, I missed the Air Force.  Then I realized that I was still designated with the specialty of Aircraft Maintenance, so I canned the idea of any attempt to get back on Active Duty and got on with my life.

I worked for a few months in a men’s clothing department in a store in Cincinnati where I had worked the Christmas rush.  Then I worked as an Insurance Adjuster for a Company in Cincinnati. That was an interesting job as my territory included parts of Kentucky, including some rural parts.  I learned early on not to wear a coat and tie while driving my plain company car to those areas. I would have looked exactly like a Government man looking for illegal stills.

I was transferred to Los Angeles after about a year in Cincinnati.  I drove my car across country, without incident, except in the desert near Southern California.  I had noticed problems with noisy valve lifters and stopped at a garage in town where they agreed to tighten them up.

The work was done on the car and I drove a few miles west before there was a great racquet from the valve lifters.  The town I was in was named Hell!

I rolled into a gas station and the mechanic told me the valve lifters were very loose.  So I called the garage that did the work and they agreed to fix it. They sent a tow truck, towed the car back and fixed the valve lifters.

Then I completed my drive to Los Angeles.  I worked there for about a year and a half.  I worked for a supervisor who supposedly had 4 bodily injury adjusters working for him in different parts of L.A.  That usually didn’t work out because the men who worked as adjusters were always leaving. So frequently he was down to 2 men and I would be driving all over the L.A. area on the most important cases.

L.A. was pretty livable in those days.  Downtown was nothing to get excited about but the smog wasn’t too bad.  I met a girl on the job and we started dating and decided to get married, and decided to get out of L.A.  She got a transfer to the San Francisco office of the same company. I quit and got a job with another insurance in San Francisco.

As will happen, after a time, a child came along, and I decided there was not enough money being an adjuster.  So I dutifully went to night law school, Four nights a week for four years with summers off. Passed the bar on the first try and started the practice of law in 1965.

I was an Insurance Defense attorney and did the usual staff and had some interesting cases, including the crane that fell off the building at Kearney and California, and representing the Directors and Officers insurer in the companion case to the many lawsuits against Bank of America for alleged failure to escheat certain unclaimed funds to the State.

The best part of practicing law was the seventeen years that I spent acting for the London Underwriters that insured pyrotechnicians people that made, sold or shot fireworks.  There was nothing wrong with the corporate people that I worked with, but the fireworks insureds were refreshingly different. They loved their work and were especially happy to show off a new shell and say to you “Look at those colors.”

I went to Japan in 1989, with my wife and daughter to see my son and his wife, also from the San Francisco area.  My daughter split off with a lady she met for a separate side trip. My wife and I moved into the Palace Hotel for a few nights as I was going to call on some Japanese insurance executives.  That hotel is right across the street from the Imperial Palace. I went to the business calls.

I made my calls and even got the “business card --shuffle” right.  It was important to have your card lower than that of the people you were calling on, when you exchanged cards.

The next day were were still at the hotel, when we go the news of the Loma Prieta earthquake.  I was watching on T.V. We had CNN. I had just turned it on and saw the Bay bridge collapsing.  I thought I had the wrong station and this was some sort of horror movie. That thought was quickly dispelled.

We managed to call home and the office.  The office said no one was working and to go on with our planned trip to Hong Kong, as nothing was happening in the office.  No one was working until further notice. The call to a neighbor (we lived in Lafayette) said nothing happened there.

We got a call from our daughter who was somewhere in Japan and she would see us tomorrow.  My son and his wife came over that night and watched T.V. with us.

The hotel sent to our room a special issue of an English language paper about the earthquake.  They take earthquakes seriously in Japan.

We stayed with the TV from San Francisco most of the night. A lot of the on air people had not been able to get to the studio, and we saw many new reports delivered by these back room folks.

Before Loma Prieta, my wife and I had visited Hiroshima.  We went on a tour. It turned out that we were the only Non Japanese on the trip.  It has all of the ritual bowing for the deaths at Hiroshima. We were uncomfortable to say the least, although no one bothered us in any way.

We went on to Hong Kong and tried to enjoy ourselves as best we could.  We bought some clothes and toured around the area. It looked like they had made appreciable progress for the “boat people” since my last visit.  But there was still much to be done for them.

Skip ahead a few years. A divorce happens, as it often does.  I decided to take a trip to Japan to see my son and his wife. He has lived and worked at various places in the Far East since 1988.

I wanted to go to the old base in Ashiya.  My son who usually is a go getter said he didn’t see how it could be done.  I said “B.S.” I intend to do it.

I stayed at my son’s town for a few night, after finally navigating through Shingjuku station.  But my cat allergy was acting up so I had to stay in a hotel. Not one of the tube hotels about 3 feet high where you crawled into bed.  Bigger than that, but certainly not spacious.

I had taken some Japanese lessons, and could speak a little Japanese.  I also had learned Hiragana. The Japanese had three languages Hiragana, Katakana and Kanji.

Hiragana was the easiest.  About 26 sounds, i-e, etc. When you knew these sounds and could piece it together, you could read most of the Railroad signs and know where you were.  The signs were also in Romanji, English letters, and some in Kanji, derived from the Chinese picture words. We went the first night to what I would call a family restaurant.  We rode bicycles there. I had not been on a bike in 30 years, but it’s true, you don’t forget.

My son’s children were with him, about ages 3 and 4.  The menus has some pictures in the border with descriptions in Hiragana.  I was able to read that the grandkids were taken aback. I think the next morning the word was all over that town “Grandpa Chaz can read.”

A few days later I took the train to Fukuoka.  This was a pretty fast train and got me there in short order.  Fukuoka was about an hour from Ongagawa, the rail stop near Ashiya, but I would have to take the local train there.  Fukuoka was quiet changed. A lot of high rise buildings. The dollar had not done well against the yen, so every thing was expensive.  I went out for a drink. I found a top of the building bar in the new high rise. I looked through the menu and ordered a Singapore sling.  I had not had a Singapore sling since I was in college, but wanted something tall that I could dally over while enjoying the view.

The next day was Sunday, and I checked out of the hotel early, checking my bag with the bellman.  I got on the train for Ongagawa. I missed the stop, got off at the next stop and in a few minutes rode back to Ongagawa.  There was a crowd and some bustle there. There was now horse racing or boat racing near by and the players were all there and all lathered up.  I finally got through the crowd and got a cab to Ashiya. The cab delivered me to about fifty yards of the gate at what had been Ashiya air base and was now a Japanese base.

I was wearing a coat and tie.  Didn’t hurt to be properly dressed when trying to talk your way on the base.  The sentry saw me coming and did not know what to do. I could see him muttering Gaijin (foreigner).  He looked like he was debating between shooting me and running for his life. I talked to him in my limited Japanese and some English and  got nowhere, so he called the Sergeant. A little progress there but not much, so he called the Captain. He had enough English to get the idea.  He took me in a jeep to the flight line. The Captain explained it was a training base and at present there were no aircraft there. He went into the hanger and reappeared with a young man, who was a major, who spoke excellent English.  The Major apologized that the base commander was not there to greet me that day. We talked and took some picture and went on a brief jeep tour of the base. Much of it looked the same, although I was not sure about a few buildings.

I thanked them for the tour and left the base.  Somehow I had not arranged for return transportation.  But it was less than 5 miles to Ongagawa, so I started walking.

I had only gone about a quarter mile when along comes a bus heading for Ongagawa.  I flagged it down and got on. I am happy to say that I was able to converse sufficiently in Japanese with the driver to determine and pay the fare.

I could hardly wait to see my son and tell him “Yah Yah I got on the base.”

I got the train back to Fukuoka, picked up my bag and got back on the train heading North.  I got in in early evening and checked into the Hiroshima Terminal Station Hotel. It was a nice hotel.

To celebrate the day, I sat on the patio, ordered and consumed a large glass of Hiroshima Terminal Hotel Scotch.

The next day after checking my bag with the desk clerk, I went to Hiroshima.  I spent a little time there and found out there was a bus to a boat to a nearby island overlooking the Inland Sea.  I took the busin and then the boat and then two separate chair lifts to the very top. The view was stunning.

I returned to the Hiroshima Hotel and checked in for another night, went back to the patio for another large glass of Hiroshima Terminal Hotel scotch, and amused myself by watching the constant flow of trains and people through the Hiroshima terminal.

Hiroshima looks fine, and there is not much to show regarding its severe damage in the war.  

I went back to Tokyo, stayed in the same small hotel for a few days and then took the train, somehow going through the maze that is Shinjuki.  My son had to work that day but arranged to meet me right where I transferred to the Airport train. We had a few minutes to talk there, before I departed.

In 2008, out of the blue, I got an email and then a phone call from a person who had been stationed in Ashiya--before me.  He was organizing a reunion. I said I certainly would got and he put it all together for October in Las Vegas. It was about three and a half days.  I went with my lady friend who is a very strong willed person. At first she was reluctant, but then said this is silly. This is a real opportunity, I’ll go and see what this is about.

We went and had a great time.  Many of the men there predated me in their service at Ashiya, but I had met some people that I had known.  My friend remarked that all the wives wanted to talk to me the minute I entered the room. That was understandable as when I was on the base, I was one of the few unmarried officers.

I talked to the man who had been in charge of the radio men.  He faced something of the same quandary that I had encountered.  How do you tell people who have been doing it for years how to do it and, he made appropriate adjustments.

The major was there and he looked great.  He told me something that I didn’t know. Before I came to the base, there had been a problem with the planes in flight about having an engine go in reverse.  It was designed to have the engine go in reverse, right after landing to help stop the plane.

He was on a flight in a C-119 not far from the base, when suddenly one of the engines went in reverse.  He could not correct the condition and the plane was spinning down toward the ocean. He called abandon ship and all but one man got safely out.

The condition had been corrected before I arrived.  But as a further precaution, it was decided to put a stop on the throttles, so that when you pulled them into reverse on a landing, that you had to pull them up a little to get them over the stop.  I don’t recall any incidents of unintentional reversing on an engine while I was at Ashiya.

One of the men at the reunion was a big man.  He had been a sergeant when I was at the base.  He went one night to a local Japanese movie house where they showed a World War Two movie.  The first hour and one half was the Japanese winning big victories. And the crowd was cheering.  Then skipping the successful island hopping offensive, they immediately showed the cloud from an atom bomb. And the movie then ended.  He stood up and very loudly said HAH! He was too big for anyone to argue with.

I think this was one of the comments that lead my lady friend to say that it had been a very long time since she has seen such a group of real men.

The reunion was great fun.

Eventually I got some papers saying that since I had not been action in the reserve, that I was being retired, but promoted to the rank of Captain.  This was O.K. with me.  My soldering days were over.

In looking back on it, I would not have missed it for anything.  Maybe it was best that I was a Maintenance Officer.  The Air Force is about flying  but if you can't be a pilot.  Maintenance officer is the closest thing to it.  People who never served really missed something unique.

In looking back on the Suez Fiasco, I see it a s sad ending to the British Empire.  True, Britain has some possessions after this, but India gaining freedom, followed soon by the Suez Canal, marked to me the end of the Empire.  It is an amazing story of how those relatively few men controlled so much of the world.

When I think of the end of the British Empire, I can hear faintly the song "Some speak of Alexander"*

Charles Negley

* I understand this is an old British marching song.  I think it is played every year in the Trooping of the Color on the Queen's official birthday.  At least it was in the rehearsal the one year I saw it.

I think the words are something like this:

Some speak of Alexander and some say Hercules,
and Hector and Lysanter and such great names as these,
but of all the worlds great heroes there's none that compare,
to a Tah Rah Rah, Rah Rah Rah of a British Grenadier

Dad was born on August 6, 1932, in Covington, Kentucky, to Charles Leonard Sr.

and Nona Negley. He was an only child and was very close to and raised with his

cousin, Martha Ann Marshall (Rohman).  He attended local schools and in 1950 

graduated from Holmes High School in Covington, Kentucky. Charles attended the

University of Kentucky, was president of Phi Sigma Kappa fraternity in his senior 

year, and graduated with a bachelor of science in Commerce in 1954.

Between 1955 and 1957, he served as a Second Lieutenant in the Air Force during

the Korean Conflict. His military service included duty at Ashiya Air Force Base in

Fukuoka, Japan. Upon his return to the U.S., he passed through San Francisco and

fell in love with it. He joined Liberty Mutual in Cincinnati, Ohio, as an insurance

claims adjuster, requesting a transfer to San Francisco. The closest location

offered was Los Angeles.

While in Los Angeles, he met and fell in love with Mary Ann Blazek, a Chicago

native; they married in October 1959.  In 1959, Dad and Mom then moved to

San Francisco, and Dad worked as a claims adjustor by day and attended San

Francisco Law School at night.  During this busy time, they had two children,

Brian Charles and Jeanne Elizabeth.

In 1964, Dad graduated from law school and joined the law firm of Maloney,

Chase, Fisher and Hurst in San Francisco (later renamed Fisher and Hurst). He

enjoyed a highly successful law practice that spanned over 50 years as a public

liability defense attorney; he was a partner of his law firm, and represented

clients internationally.

Dad was a movie buff, and greatly enjoyed the classics. He loved the Marx

Brothers, and could recite many a Groucho line off the top of his head.

He also loved sports ‐ he was a life‐long Cincinnati Reds fan, and attended

many games at Crosley Field as a boy. He was also a big supporter of his hometown

San Francisco 49ers, and was able to watch games at Kezar Stadium from

his apartment rooftop. And ever the Kentucky native, he loved to spend a day at

the horse races. In his later years, he studied and developed a great appreciation

for opera, so much so that his greatest passion was a night out at the San

Francisco Opera House.

Dad suffered from Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases, and the family

greatly appreciates the loving care provided by the Oregon Veteran’s Home of

Lebanon. He also had great help from a wonderful group of caretakers:  Amy,

Donna, Kathy and Sandy, to whom we will be forever grateful.