Baby Cat

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Our home on The Woods Drive, in El Cajon, was built on a hillside and was, of necessity, a multi-level home. Additionally, the developers had worked around the giant boulders that were scattered throughout the area and included them in the landscapes. If a boulder was in the way of a fence, they just fenced right up to it, cut a board to fit the contour, and continued on the other side. Knowing this will help you picture the dramatic events that occurred the night Baby Cat came to live with us.

The house next door was downhill from us. Our back deck was even with the ridge of their roof. The person who lived there was a nice little lady, a widow, and a grandmother. She lived by herself most of the time but sometimes had a teenage grandson stay with her when he was having trouble getting along with his parents.

Pat and I were working out in the yard one Saturday when the neighbor lady yelled at us. She wanted us to see the cute little kitten her grandson had brought with him that morning. We went over and saw the cutest little black and yellow cat with very unusual markings. We talked for a few minutes, petted the kitten, and went back to our yard work.

A few days went by and we hadn’t seen the neighbor lady. Pat asked another lady about it and learned that “grandma” had a stroke and then went to a rehab facility. After a couple of days, the grandson was ordered to return home to his parents.

Another day or two had gone by and Pat and I were caught up in our regular routine. We went to bed one night at the regular time. It was summer and since our bedroom windows were 25 or 30 feet above ground and not accessible, we left them open. Pat was awakened a couple of hours later by a crying noise. She got up and went to the window and heard a kitten meowing loudly and with anxiety. Figuring that it was that little neighbor kitten, she went downstairs to check. She stepped out on the back deck and heard the kitten’s cries coming from the back yard, next door. It was a bright, moonlit night so she went down the steps into the yard. The kitten was still crying, and she wanted to get to it, but the fence was 5 feet tall. Fortunately, this was one of the spots where a boulder, at least 8 feet in diameter, had been incorporated into the fence. The boulder had enough bumps, cracks, and crevices that it looked as if it could be climbed, so Pat started up. Being in her pajamas and bare footed, she was hardly dresses for rock climbing, but she decided to give it a go. She slipped a few times but reached the top and slid down the other side into the neighbor’s yard.

Pat could still hear the kitten crying. The sounds seemed to be coming from under the deck which was about 2 feet off the ground and open, all the way around. She moved slowly along the edge of the deck trying to protect her feet. She got to the place where the kitten’s cries seemed loudest and got down on her hands and knees and peered under. The moon light was bright enough that she could see and sure enough…there’s that black and yellow kitty with the big eyes. With a sigh of relief, Pat reached for the kitty but was brought up short by the sensation that she was being watched. She turned toward the end of the deck and there were two big coyotes watching her! OH, my gosh! Pat says she understood for the first time what it meant say “I was so scared, the hair on my arms stood up!” Grabbing the kitty, she got to her feet and started backing away. The coyotes just stood there, watching. Reaching the boulder, Pat started climbing. This side of the rock was slicker and since she had the kitten in one hand Pat was slipping and sliding and her anxiety level was getting higher as she tried to get to the top. The coyotes had moved a few feet as if to get a better look at her. She finally made it to the top, slid down the other side, and ran to the stairs. When she got up to the deck, she turned to look, and the coyotes were still staring up at her. She shuddered and went in the house and closed and locked the door.

The next morning, I was up first and as I entered the bathroom I heard a noise coming from the shower. I opened the shower door and there was that little black and yellow kitten! There was a towel on the floor for a bed and she had a bowl of water and some cat food. I wanted to keep moving so I could leave for work on time. I did my stuff and went on to the kitchen and got the coffee pot started. In a few minutes, Pat joined me in the kitchen and I said to her “There’s a kitten in our shower.” She replied, “Yeah, and you slept through all the excitement.” Then, she proceeded to tell me the story I just related to you. After hearing all the exciting details, I was amazed that she and the kitten hadn’t both ended up as a midnight snack for those coyotes.

We discussed what to do with the kitten. The “grandma” was going to be in rehab for an extended period and the grandson had abandoned the kitty and left her for the coyotes so we concluded that we should keep her. We already had a mature cat, Ms./Rambo, so we got in the habit of calling the little one “Baby Cat”. She grew up to be a mellow and loving cat-person and we enjoyed her company until she passed away at the age of 16.

Dave and Pat Thomas
January 13, 2018

 

Izzie 6b: Still In The Game

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Our cat, Isabella, plays Hide & Seek with the same joy and passion as she did five years ago. She made up the game and still only plays it with Pat. I told you about this in “Izzie 6: Chase & Hide & Seek” and Lizzie 6a: The Games.” The girls are a little older, Izzie being 14 and Pat being 80, but they still play with gusto.

Thanksgiving has come and gone so our Christmas tree is up and all the decorations are in place. Last evening, Pat and I were watching television when suddenly we heard Izzie come galloping down the hall. When we are outside, and she is hunting lizards she can run through dried leaves without making a sound. But, when she wants to play, she can sound like a herd of wild horses.

Izzie raced on into the living room, came to a screeching halt, and started prancing around. She made eye contact with Pat to make sure she was watching and the dashed behind the recliner. Pat responded to her cue and jumped to her feet, not letting on that we had seen Izzie sneak over behind the Christmas tree. Next, Pat goes into her search routine. She goes around the room looking behind chairs, under the couch and behind doors. Pat carries on something terrible. ” Where’s my Isabella? Where’s my cat? I can’t find her! “She goes down the hall and peeks into the bedroom’s. “Where’s my Izzie?” After a couple minutes of this, Pat comes back and sits down. “I can’t find her. I give up.”

We sit there quietly and watch TV for a couple of minutes. Suddenly, Izzie leaps out from behind the Christmas tree. She makes a big deal of it. She extends her claws and kneads the carpet, making a popping sound as she pulls her paw back. Finally, she prances around, and I’d swear there is a grin on her face like a little kid. “I won, I won!” We clap and cheer and let her enjoy her big moment.

Dave Thomas
December 9, 2017

 

Fun Is Where You Find It

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Sometimes you have to create your own fun. You’ve probably heard about the scam where you get a phone call and some kid says he is calling from Microsoft. They have been getting reports that your computer is full of viruses and may crash at anytime. The guy says that you need to get rid of the viruses and he will guide you through it. The idea is for him to get you to enable the “Remote” function so he can take control of your computer. Once he has control, he will download everything you’ve got and look for private information he can steal and use. We got another of those calls yesterday. I didn’t recognize the Caller ID so I decided to have some fun. Pat picked up the fun in another room and listened in.

The phone rings. Me: “Hello”. Scammer: “IS this David Thomas?” Me: “What can I do for you?” Scammer: “This is Microsoft calling. We are getting many reports that your computer has been attacked by viruses. Sit down in front of your computer and I will guide you through…” Me (interrupting): “OH my God! What is happening? Is it going to blow up?” Scammer: “No, Mr. Thomas, it won’t blow up. Sit down in front of your computer and I will guide…” Me (interrupting again) “Oh my God! Is it going to catch fire? I don’t know what to do!” Scammer: “No, Mr. Thomas, it won’t catch fire. Sit down in front of your computer and I will guide you…” Me: Oh, I’m an old man! I don’t know what to do! I’m getting a headache! I feel sick! I’m going to take a nap. Good bye!” I hang up. Pat and I are laughing our fool heads off and the phone rings. Pat answers and it’s the same guy. Scammer: “I need to speak to Mr. Thomas.” Pat: “I think he’s having a heart attack! I’ve got to call 911.” And she hangs up. Pat and I are laughing again. In a few minutes the phone rings again. Pat answers and it’s the same guy. Scammer: “I need to speak to Mr. Thomas>” Pat: “He’s having a heart attack and they are just putting him in the ambulance. Oh,oh…they are leaving for the hospital. I’ve got to go!” and she hangs up.

This was more fun than a barrel of monkeys. We got some laughs and tied up this moron for a few minutes so he couldn’t pester anyone else.

Dave Thomas
December 6, 2017

 

Patio Talk 5

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Patio Talk 5

Matrimony: A Resume Builder

We just celebrated our 60th wedding anniversary. We don’t know how 60 years passed so quickly but it happened. but As you can imagine, it comes up in conversation. I’m not going to bore you with the details but will tell you how this started.

I got out of Navy boot camp in May of 1957 and went home to Augusta, Kansas on a 30-day leave. My friend, Jack Watson, fixed me up with a date with Pat, a girl he worked with in the Auditing Department of Sears Roebuck in Wichita. On that first date I realized that she was “the one”. She was cute and smart and sassy so I told her I was going to marry her. She probably thought I was nuts.

I sold my car when I enlisted but fortunately, another friend, Johnny Luding, solved my transportation problem. Johnny was working 2nd shift at Boeing and I would ride to work with him, drop him off, and go pick up Pat. At the end of the evening, I would drop Pat off at her place and go back to Boeing and wait for John to get off work. The 30-day leave whizzed by with Pat and I seeing each other as much as possible and getting acquainted.

When my leave was up, I reported to Naval Air Station Glenview, Illinois, located just outside Chicago. I would be there for 4 or 5 months while waiting for orders to school. Upon reporting to the base, I was assigned to the Information and Recruiting Office as my duty station.

There I was, ready and eager to get married, and no money. At that time, you came out of boot camp as a lowly E-2 drawing $85,80 per month. I needed another job.

I’ve always enjoyed working and sometimes had 2 or 3 jobs at a time. If you’ve been reading my stories you know that I’ve had a variety of jobs. During my pre-nuptial days at Glenview I added at least 3 job titles to my resume. The first spare time job was as a Watchman or Security Guard. Like most Navy installations, Glenview had what was called “4 Section Duty Schedule” and every sailor was assigned to one of the four sections and had to stay aboard the base on their duty day. There were a number of jobs that had to be covered, all things that were necessary to keep the base running. Security was a major item and there had to be a duty driver to carry people and paperwork around the base and people had to be available to man the phones. If a sailor had a hot date or some other compelling reason to leave the base, he could hire someone to stand the duty for him. I put out the word that I would stand duty at a reasonable rate and had quite a few takers.

The hardest watch and the one that most guys wanted to get out of, was the mid-watch (midnight to 4:00 AM) at the hangers. It’s hard to sleep for a couple of hours, get up and stand a four-hour watch, and then go back to sleep. I charged $10.00 for the mid-watch and got all the business I wanted. I didn’t mind it because the summer nights were warm, and I could look at the airplanes.

When walking the hanger watch, you had to carry a Watchman’s Clock. It was a large clock, several inches in diameter, with a strap on it so you could loop it around your neck and shoulder. The “post” or “beat” took you around the hangers and at strategic places there were Key Boxes containing a key that you had to insert into the clock you were carrying. This recorded that you were at the right place at the right time as you walked your post. At the end of your shift, the person you reported to could to check the clock and know if you had covered the ground as you were supposed to.

2004

The next job title I acquired was “Baby Sitter”. As I said earlier, I worked in the Information and Recruiting Office. The department head was a LCDR Sanford. Mr. Sanford called me into his office one day and asked if I would like a babysitting job that evening. I immediately said yes, and he filled me in on the details. The Executive Officer (2nd in command) of NAS Glenview was a Commander Valley. He and his wife had to attend a function that evening, and their regular babysitter had been called out of town. Commander Valley and his wife felt much more comfortable having a babysitter for their 15-year-old daughter than just leaving her on her own. The job was located on the base, so transportation wouldn’t be a problem. The Captain and the Exec were both provided with houses on the base.

That first evening went well. We played checkers and watched TV and listened to records. Commander Valley had purchased some kits from Radio Shack and built a terrific hi-fi set. It was a nice evening and the daughter was a very pleasant young lady. When the Commander and his wife got home that evening they told me that they would be busy the following Saturday and they could use my help. Their daughter wanted to play a round of golf and she needed a caddy as well as a babysitter. I carried the golf bag on Saturday and did two more evening stint s before the regular sitter got back. It was a pleasant way to earn a few bucks.


2007: 50th Wedding Anniversary

The 3rd job title I picked up is a little harder to figure out. The closest I can come is “Ironer”. Probably, the next best would be “Washerwoman” but I didn’t wash anything for anyone and I don’t want to be referred to as a woman. The ironing job was much like taking candy from a baby. One evening at the barracks, I had washed my civilian clothes and was ironing one of the shirts. An iron and ironing board were available in the barracks for anyone to use. Thanks to my Mom, I knew how to use them. When I was a little kid, she said she wasn’t going to turn me loose in the adult world unless I could take care of myself. She taught me basic cooking skills, how to clean house, how to wash clothes and iron, how to darn socks and sew on buttons, and a lot of other stuff. So, as I ironed my shirt in the barracks that evening, two guys came in. They saw what I was doing and one of them said “Hey, I’ve got a date tonight, will you iron a shirt for me?” I said “No, I’m not ironing your shirt, but I’ll let you use the iron.” He said, “I can’t do that but if you will do it, I’ll pay you.” “How much?” “I’ll pay $2.00 a shirt” he says. ‘It’s a deal!’ I say. That’s how I became an Ironer. These spoiled kids I lived with in the barracks didn’t know how to do anything for themselves, so I easily grabbed several customers.

So, there are three little money-making jobs I added to my repertoire. Pat was busy and extending her range also. She was working her job in the Sears Auditing Department and while figuring out our wedding was learning things like “Event Planner” and “Budget Director” and “Purchasing Agent“. She shopped for wedding rings and with her Sears 10% discount got mine for $12.00 and hers for $10.00.

 

Pat at 77, G-Grand-daughter,
Quetzal, at 22 months.

In October, I was transferred to Norman, Oklahoma to attend Aviation Prep. School prior to being sent to Memphis to attend Aviation Electronics School. While at Norman, I took and passed the test for E-3 and I think my pay went up to $99.00 per month. Veteran’s Day was coming up and we decided to take advantage of the 3-day weekend and get married. The time passed quickly, and I hitch-hiked home. We were married on November 9, 1957.

After 60 years, I think I’m qualified to say a few words. Marriage is two people doing the best they can for each other, every single day.

Here’s Pat at 78

Dave Thomas
November 14, 2017

 

Patio Talk: 4

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Patio Talk: 4

Pat’s step-dad passed away and she was going back to El Dorado, Kansas to help with the arrangements and attend the funeral. It was a busy time at work so I decided to stay home. Our firefighter son, Doug, said he could work it out with his job and he would be glad to go. Fortunately they could book a flight for the next day. It was September, so they were both dressed in casual warm weather clothing. Pat was wearing tight jeans and high heels and Doug was wearing shorts and a tank top. As was the current fashion on both the east and west coasts, Doug was wearing a fanny-pack containing his billfold, sun glasses and other necessary items.

The flight went without a hitch and they soon landed in Wichita. They rented a car and drove to El Dorado where they spent the night in a motel. The next morning, they went to a restaurant for a good breakfast to start a busy day. Entering the restaurant, they found it busy and noisy. They soon found out what was causing the commotion.

The table next to them was occupied by a bunch of guys having a good time. They all looked to be in their 60’s, deeply tanned and wearing bib overalls and John Deere ball caps. They were busy laughing and razzing each other. Obviously, they were good friends and Pat heard one of them say that this was a weekly get together. They had probably all done a half-day’s work before coming in for breakfast. They carried on, telling their stories and entertained each other and everyone else in the place. Pat noticed that a couple of the guys were watching her and Doug and whispering back and forth. She was aware that she and Doug looked different than the locals. She also realized that they may appear to be an older woman and her boy-toy companion. Doug could certainly play that part. He is good looking (like all our kids) and heavily muscled from years of weight lifting.

The rest of the men kept talking and laughing and were telling wild stories, probably to see what reaction they would get from Pat, Doug, and the rest of the crowd. For example, one guy says “I baled and stacked hay yesterday and I’m sure stiff and sore this morning. Guess I’m getting old.” “I know what you mean,” the guy next to him said, “I’m only having sex with the wife 3 or 4 times a week now. Old age is hell!”

Pat and Doug finished their breakfast, got up, paid the check, and were leaving. Suddenly, the loudest guy at the neighboring table jumped up. “Hey,” he yells, “That guy forgot his purse!” Mortified and red-faced, Doug retrieved his fanny-pack and headed for the door. Apparently, a fashion statement on the west coast can be misunderstood in the Midwest.

Dave and Pat Thomas
October 28, 2017

P

Patio Talk: 3

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Pat reminded me of this story. She told me about it when it happened and as one of the participants remembers it better than I do.

It was probably 1997 or 1998 and we were on vacation. It was Pat and I and our grand-daughter, Michelle. Michelle would have been 11 or 12 at the time.

Pat’s friend Charlotte and her family had a beach house in Galveston that they graciously let us enjoy for a week. We had flown into Houston, rented a car, and driven on down. We were looking forward to a few days of just hanging out on the beach and vegetating. When we went into town, we tried to see and do things that Michelle would enjoy like Moody’s Gardens, Joe’s Crab Shack, and the seawall. Our days at the beach house were relaxing and fun and we re-charged our batteries while there.

We drove back to Houston and caught a flight to Wichita. We planned to visit Pat’s aunt and cousins and drive on to Augusta and visit friends. Our flight to Wichita would be in a commuter plane, one of those 10 or 12 seat puddle-jumpers. We climbed aboard and got on our way. When we got close to the Wichita area, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom telling us that an electrical storm was passing through Wichita and we would have to circle for a while before we were allowed to land.

Pat says that after we had been in the holding pattern and making circles for quite a while, Michelle leaned over and whispered “I have to go to the bathroom.” Pat pointed out the restroom which was up forward, just behind the pilots. Michelle went forward but immediately came back. “What’s the matter?” asked Pat. “There’s a big window right beside the toilet and anybody can see in” whispers Michelle. Pat whispers back “Who do you think is going to be looking in?” “Oh” says Michelle as her face turns red and she heads back to the restroom.

Dave and Pat Thomas
October 16, 2017

 

Patio Talk: 2

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We were talking about the latest Geico Insurance commercial. It’s about a guy playing a triangle solo while dancing around and gyrating like a rock star. It’s a hilarious performance. I commented to Pat that I remembered the kindergarten music class try-outs. Everyone wanted to play the triangle because it was the only thing that had a musical sound. I guess I was a total loser because when I finished my try-out with the triangle, the teacher took it away from me and gave me a wood block. Pat confessed that she was a loser too. The teacher took the triangle from her and told her she would be playing the sticks. We can’t help wondering how different our lives might have been if we could only have played the triangle.

Dave and Pat Thomas
October 13, 2017

Patio Talk

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During the summer months Pat and Izzie and I like to sit on the patio after supper until sundown. Isabella (Izzie), being an indoor cat wears a harness with a five-foot leash attached. We also have a reel for pets that is about fifteen feet long. We snap the reel onto the leash and Izzie has about twenty feet that she can move around in. While Izzie looks for lizards and wishes she could get to the two hummingbird feeders, Pat and I are sitting in the swing. We swing and hold hands and talk and keep an eye on Izzie. (I think there are about 10 stories about Izzie that you can find under the “Cats” category on the blog.)

I’m 81 now and Pat will be 80 next month. If you are wondering what old people talk about, its kids, grand-kids, great grand-kids, and “stuff”. I’ll give you some examples of the “stuff”.

We listen to the airplane noises. We are just a couple of miles west of the Miramar Marine Corps Air Facility. It’s a training base so some days are a constant stream of after-burners. When the Blue Angels are here for the annual air show we get blasted out of our seats and it scares the devil out of Izzie. We have no complaints though. This is where the world’s best pilots are trained and was the setting for the movie, Top Gun.

Besides the jets from Miramar, we sometimes hear small private planes coming out of Montgomery Field which is only 3 or 4 miles away. There is one small plane we hear every night about 6:15 as it climbs out and heads up the coast. We are guessing that it is either a flying lesson underway or a sight-seeing tour. We get a lot of helicopters, too. We live in what is called “The Golden Triangle”, an area that is bounded by freeways on 3 sides. Naturally, the freeways are patrolled by the traffic choppers from the TV news programs and by the police and the sheriff. All together, we hear a lot of aircraft noise when we are on the patio. The funny thing is, that it is not that bothersome but adds to the flavor of the patio experience.

I talked about my first ride in a small plane. It took place one Saturday morning in 1954 or 1955. I was driving back from Wichita. Normally, I worked at the garage on Saturdays from 8:00 AM to 1:00 PM so I have no idea why I had been to Wichita. Anyhow, I was just leaving town, heading east on Kellogg, when I spotted a kid who was hitch-hiking. Back then, we frequently picked up hitch-hikers and this kid looked clean and intelligent and I was bigger than he was. I stopped and picked him up and as we headed for Augusta, he told me his story.

He said he was 23, was in the Air Force, and was stationed at McConnell AFB in Wichita. He went on to say that before joining the Air Force, he had earned a pilot’s license and he had just recently saved enough money to by an old airplane. The plane was an old single engine Taylorcraft and looked really beat up. However, he bought it for $700.00 and that made it look a lot better. He had parked his plane at the Augusta Airport because it was small and cheap and close enough for him to get to it easily. Also, Al Guy, the airport manager had promised to help him put a new skin on his airplane. This Taylorcraft was old enough that it had a canvas skin rather than a more modern skin of aluminum. The kid (I can’t remember his name) and Al Guy had re-skinned the plane and it looked good and was ready to fly.

At that time, the Augusta Airport was on the north end of town. It was at least a half section of land stretching from Ohio Street eastward to Custer Lane and north to the county road. The southwest corner of the property in later years became the site of Augusta’s first Wal-Mart. The interesting thing about it was that it was a multi-use property. Besides being the airport, it was the golf course and country club, the skeet shooting range, and the archery range.

I’m tired of saying “he” so I’ll call this kid “Joe”. I helped Joe push his plane out and he performed a pre-flight inspection of it. We climbed aboard, taxied out and took off. We flew around for an hour or so and Joe taught me how the controls worked and let me fly for a while. Joe told me that when we went in for a landing we would have to be careful as there might be golfers on the landing strip. The landing field was a wide grassy strip right down the middle of the golf course. Sure enough, as we came in, there were golfers crossing the fairway. Joe gunned

the engine to let them know we were coming and took the plane around for another try. The golfers cleared out and we touched down easily and rolled out across the grass. I enjoyed the ride and the experience and was happy that I had stopped to give the hitch-hiker a ride.

Pat said she had a story about her first ride in a small plane. She had just moved to El Dorado from Eureka and since she was 13 years old, that would make it about 1950. She was looking through the El Dorado Times and saw a notice that one of the local organizations was holding a fund raiser in just a couple of weeks. They would be giving rides in an airplane and charging just a penny a pound. Pat got all excited! The ride would cost just over a dollar and she had that much in her piggy bank. Of course, with the event being 2 weeks away she nearly drove her Mother crazy.

Pat and I had to take time to discuss the fare. A penny a pound isn’t much money. Pat pointed out that regular gasoline was selling for only 13 cents a gallon so a penny a pound would surely be a profitable venture. The price of gasoline really put things in perspective.

The big day finally arrived and Pat couldn’t have been more excited. The temporary air strip was a pasture on the outskirts of town. Pat’s Mom drove her out there and since there was no seating, stayed in the car to watch. She would be happy to experience the thrill of flight from ground level.

There were 2 planes giving rides that day and it was a good thing. When Pat got in line there were at least 40 people ahead of her. All of them were excited and a little nervous so they were all laughing and jabbering. The time passed quickly and Pat was soon climbing into a Piper Cub and anticipating the flight. The pilot gunned it and Pat was amazed at the speed with which they rolled across the bumpy pasture. Then, suddenly, they lifted off and left the bumps behind. She was elated as they gained altitude and she could see farther and farther. The cars and people below began to look like miniatures. It was a magic ride but it didn’t last long enough. They were soon back on the ground and everything looked normal again. Pat has retained her fascination with the elevated view. When we fly, she gets the window seat so she can look out.

Dave and Pat Thomas
October 11, 2017

Small Speck, Small World, Big Ocean

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1

I’m going to mix an old story with an item from today’s news and see how it comes out. With a little luck, we’ll get something worth reading.

Back in the 1950’s, we had a men’s clothing store in Augusta, Kansas. It was owned and operated by Paul Stephenson as Stephenson’s Men’s Clothing. The store was located on the east side of the 500 block of State Street, nestled up against the Prairie State Bank, on its north and Mamie Hall’s book store on the south. Paul and his wife (only 60 years and I’ve forgotten her name) were in the store every day, well dressed and professional but friendly in demeanor. Their son, Dick, was a classmate of mine. Dick and I graduated in 1954 and I went to work and I think Dick headed for the University of Kansas. The following year, I was going to attend a wedding and needed a new suit. I went down to Stephenson’s and Paul fitted me with a new outfit and his wife set me up with a lay-away plan to pay for it. Those were the last dealings I had with the Stephenson family.

The Pacific island of Guam has been a big part of the news recently. It’s the nearest U.S. Territory to North Korea and they are threatening to take a shot at it with their misguided missiles. Hopefully, sanity will prevail and Guam will remain intact. I faced a dilemma myself, on Guam, and will describe it to you later.

Guam is 7,000 miles from Augusta and if you look at a globe, it’s just a little speck in the big, blue Pacific Ocean. The island is 30 miles long and from 4 to 12 miles wide with a resulting total of 210 square miles. This makes it the largest island in Micronesia.

I enlisted in the Navy in March of 1957 and after attending Aviation Electronics School in Memphis had joined Patrol Squadron Forty-Eight (VP 48), a seaplane squadron, at NAS North Island, San Diego. In April of 1959, we were scheduled to deploy to NAS Iwakuni, Japan. I had mixed emotions about going. Our twin boys (the surprise of our lives) were just 6 months old. Pat was going to have to cope with raising the boys on very little money while I was gone. Two babies and no money makes for some hard days. I had taken the test for third class (E-4) but the results hadn’t come back yet. The only other way I could make more money was to get in a flight crew and draw flight pay. It was announced that there were 2 openings for aircrewmen and I was thrilled to hear it. As I recall, that would bring in another 90 bucks a month as hazardous duty pay. The only hitch was that to qualify, I must be able to send and receive 16 words per minute in Morse code. I only had a month to learn the code and pass the test because I would still have to attend Survival School before deployment

I passed the Morse code test and attended Survival School which took place partly on the beach and partly in the mountains. The trip to Japan was going to involve island hopping for several days. We would first fly to San Francisco and then, the next day, head west. We would be going to Honolulu, Hawaii, Kwajalein Atoll, Midway Island, Guam, and Iwakuni, Japan. We left and our trip went well until we got just past the halfway point between Kwajalein and Midway and lost an engine. We all went to our emergency stations and started preparing to ditch. I fired up the radar which had a range of 120 miles. The screen was blank! There wasn’t a ship, airplane, island, or even a reef in sight. Meanwhile, the navigator was making a “sun–shot” and marking his charts so he would know exactly where we were. The co-pilot was talking to Midway Control and they immediately dispatched a Coast Guard S2F seaplane to meet us and escort us in (or radio our position if we went down). The pilot was busy getting us trimmed up to fly on a single engine. He thought we were a little heavy so he told the guys back aft to throw out some of the equipment. There is a procedure for this so the guys got rid of the stuff on the list. If that hadn’t been sufficient, our clothing and personal gear would have been among the next items out the hatch. I forget how many hours it was, but when I switched on the radar and found that S2F coming our way, we all cheered. We made it to Midway without incident and were there for almost a month waiting for a new engine to be shipped from the states.

We got our seaplane back together and headed for Apra Harbor, Guam. We had a good flight except one of the engine gauges was acting up. It was probably a casualty of the engine failure we had experienced but didn’t show up until we had racked up a few hours of flight. Apra Harbor had a seaplane ramp for the launching and retrieval of planes so we got the plane up on the concrete and parked it again. The Plane Captain (the senior aviation mechanic) ordered a new gauge which would be coming from the states, just as the engine had.

We spent the next few days enjoying Apra Harbor. The guys at the Coast Guard Station said we could use their snorkeling gear whenever we wished so we took advantage of the offer. Swimming in Apra Harbor was like swimming in a high-priced aquarium. The water was clear and only 8 or 10 feet deep where we were. You could look down and see beautiful coral formations on the bottom and there were things moving in time with the water that looked like flowers moving with a spring breeze. The fish were awesome! Every color and shape of tropical fish you ever saw in a pet store was there. There were also sea cucumbers and other strange things I had never read about and couldn’t name. The Coast Guard guys even told us that if we could spear an octopus we could take it to a store in town and trade it for a case of beer. One of the guys in our crew took this to heart and spent a lot of hours in the water before he finally speared an octopus. We had a van assigned to our crew. I was the only person with a Navy Driver’s License so I drove him into town. Surprisingly enough, he traded his catch for a case of beer.

The gauge finally arrived and we went over to the Navy Supply Depot and picked it up. The next morning, the mech’s were going to install the gauge and turn up the engines while the rest of us did our chores. The guys were needing razor blades, cigarettes, and other items so I said I would make a run to the Naval Exchange (PX to you Army folks) at Naval Air Station, Agana. I hurried up and checked out the radar and the other electronic gear I was responsible for and took off.

I must have arrived at the Navy Exchange at rush hour. There was a small crowd going through the main entrance and just as many coming out. I joined the throng and as we shuffled along toward the front door, I spotted the tan of an officer’s uniform coming at me. As the gap between us closed, I looked up and saw the gold bar of an ensign on the collar. Then, I saw his face…my God, its Dick Stephenson! We shook hands and moved out of the way of the throng so we could talk. Dick and I were going through the “small world” routine and “what are you doing here” and I had something else churning in the back of my mind. Do you remember that I said I had a dilemma on Guam? Well, this is it! When I look at Dick, I see a gangly kid riding a bicycle around the streets of Augusta. The last time I saw him, he still had peach fuzz on his cheeks. How can I salute this kid when we part company? If I didn’t salute and another officer noticed it, I could be reprimanded. Or, if Dick decided to make an issue of it the outcome would be bad. I wasn’t in the mood to be chewed out for some petty offense. While we were talking, my mind finally got the fact that the Navy had taught me that you salute the uniform, not the man. Dick and I finished talking and shook hands. I saluted and he returned it and we both lived through the event.

We took off bright and early the next morning. We were all relieved to think we might finally complete our trip. A few minutes after we were airborne, our Pilot and Plane Commander (PPC), George Surovik, got on the intercom and announced that we would do a little sight-seeing on the way. He said that he and the co-pilot and navigator had talked it over and had filed a flight plan that would take us over Iwo Jima. Iwo Jima is about 800 miles from Guam but wasn’t far off our track to Iwakuni. We were all anxious to see the infamous place that had cost so many lives. As we passed over the island, Mount Surabachi was still big, black, and as ugly as it had been in the newsreels when I was a kid during WWII. It’s amazing how many memories and how much sadness can be evoked by the sight of such a place.

We finally got there! Iwakuni is down toward the southern end of Japan and is located on the Inland Sea. We landed and taxied over to the seaplane ramp and snagged the buoy. While the boat was towing our wheels out to us, we could see our squadron gathering on the sea wall to welcome us. We got our wheels attached and were towed, tail-first, to the top of the ramp. One of our crew opened the rear hatch but before he could get the ladder mounted and start down, the guys on the ramp started handing up cans of ice cold beer. I took a few swigs and when my turn came, I started down the ladder. I got about half way down and was suddenly grabbed by what seemed like a dozen hands. I was carried to the seawall and tossed over it. I landed in the drink and started treading water. I noticed that I was the only guy that had been tossed in. I yelled up at the rotten guys that had done it and asked them, “What was that for?” “You made Third Class”, they shouted! Hot dog…another pay raise! Things are looking up!

Dave Thomas
August 24, 2017

 

Smile…

~ crittersandcats ~ Leave a comment

It was a sad day, last month, when Ringling Brothers announced that they were going out of business. What is life without the circus? The feeling of impending doom started last year when they said they were retiring the elephants. I have really had some mixed feelings about that. To me, the elephants are the circus. Sure, they’ve got the trapeze acts, the lion tamers, and the clowns, but what of it? It’s those giant-sized, majestic creatures with the wise old eyes that set the tone for everything else.

On the other hand, elephants shouldn’t have to live that kind of life. Most of the day they were chained to a stake in the ground and bored to death. They were only free long enough to go out and perform those demeaning little tricks. Not a good life for such a marvelous creature.

I know, that I shouldn’t discuss serious stuff. Well, here’s a remedy for that. As you may have guessed, I have a circus story.

The circus and the carnivals used to stop in Augusta, Kansas, our little town of 5,000 people. In the south end of town, there was a big lot behind the homes on the west side of the 500 block of Oak Street. It was a nice, level piece of property, bounded on the north by the Frisco Railroad tracks and on the south by the White Eagle Refinery. That was a good location but one year they changed the venue, y to get more space. I was probably between the ages of 14 and 16. That would put it between 1950 and 1952. Up in the north end of town there was a pasture that probably was within the city limits. It was bounded by Kelly Road on the south and Washington Lane on the west. I think the northern boundary was even with the entrance to Garvin Park. The circus people set up their tents and equipment up at the north end of the property.

If I remember correctly, the circus arrived via the Santa Fe Railroad. I believe it was the next day that they had a parade down State Street. For some reason, I was watching from a spot front of Schneider Brothers Grain and Feed Store as the elephants strolled past. The circus had put out a call for some boys to show up that first morning and clean up after the elephants. It’s a monumental job but someone must do it and I would have been honored. On that specified morning, we headed for the pasture and the super duper pooper scooper job. I think Gary

Casner was my partner in this adventure. Unfortunately, we got there too late and the jobs had been filled. Such is life.

That evening, we went back to the circus to see the show. We got there early and split up to look around. There was a side-show set up on the west side of the big top and there were posters advertising the usual attractions like the Bearded Lady and the Tatooed Man, and of course, the Exotic Dancer. There was a stage in front of the entrance to the tent and it was surrounded, about three deep, by men and high school boys. I had arrived during the time segment of the Exotic Dancer and she was on stage smiling and posing as the barker extolled her wares. According to the barker, once you paid your money and got inside the tent, you were going to see some spicy stuff. I wouldn’t be able to find out because the posted sign said, “No One Under the Age Of 18 Allowed Inside”. That was okay for it turned out that I saw an amusing show anyhow.

I knew most of the guys in the crowd. There were a couple of high school classmates, a couple of dads of classmates, businessmen from down town, and men that worked at the refinery. I was surprised to see one man that seemed to be hanging back a step or two behind the rest of the crowd. I knew this man well. He was a businessman that I saw whenever I went to town. He was a sharp dresser, always in a white shirt, tie, sport coat, and slacks. He was a talker, too, and always had a word for every man, woman, or kid he came across. That’s why I was surprised to see him standing by himself. There was no one to talk to.

I was watching this guy out of the corner of my eye when suddenly, I found out what was going on. His sport coat was unbuttoned and he would reach across with his left hand and pull the coat back, exposing the camera he had hanging around his neck! It was a small, flat camera, looking much like the digital cameras we have today. Once the camera was in the clear, he would reach up with his right hand and snap a picture and then let the coat fall closed. Whenever the woman would change her position or her pose, he would snap another picture. This went on throughout the barker’s spiel and the guy was so intent on what he was doing, he didn’t know I was watching. Thinking about it now, I don’t remember seeing him wind the camera to advance the film. I must not have been paying attention. I don’t believe we had the technology or the miniature batteries to support automatic film advancing.

I don’t know what the guy’s motivation was. Maybe he was in training to become a spy. Or, maybe he was taking pictures for an up-coming coffee table book about exotic dancers. Maybe he was just a pervert. All I know, is that I got a good chuckle from his covert performance.

Dave Thomas
June 30, 2017