From Tompkinsville to Muskogee: A Unique Journey by David Marrs Rush

David Marrs Rush | February 19, 1931 – February 19, 2005 

Author’s note:

I am writing this brief autobiography at the request of my son, David Stephen, who started a web site recently and wants content for it. Herein is my life story, told the way I experienced it and remembered it.

Editor’s note:

After my father passed away, I took his autobiography and had it printed up and copies distributed to various family members.  I’ve taken this opportunity, years later, to put it on line.  My father needed a pretext to write this document which I gave him… no not that thought out.  I did take the liberty of adding a couple images.

The Early Years

I was born in Tompkinsville, KY on February 19, 1931 to Jack and Mary Rush. Since then, I have lived in many places and done myriad things, some I remember with pride, others with regret.

There were eight of us in the family: five sisters, Mickey Florene, Betty Jane, Jackie Nell, Virginia Gayle, Mary Sue; two brothers, Jimmy Earl and Joseph Michael, and of course me. Joseph Michael was born after I left home for the Navy. Mickie died in infancy on March 20, 1930. She was approximately six months old. Jim died February 13, 1989 in Louisville, KY at the age of 45. Jim served in the Army during the Korean War and when discharged attended college and dental school. He was a practicing dentist in Louisville at the time of his death.

I can’t recall a great deal about my life while growing up except for a few incidents, which are burned into my memory. When I was four or five we had a baby chicken for a pet. His name was Jack Dempsey (a famous boxer). Somehow, while playing with Jack Dempsey, I managed to strangle him and became very distraught because he couldn’t or wouldn’t walk. I grabbed him by the head and stood him up, all the while yelling, “Walk, Jack Dempsey, Walk.” Of course Jack Dempsey could not walk.

Ah, the infamous ‘bluff’! The bluff was an area located behind the old jail in Tompkinsville. My cousins, Billy Rush and John Emmert, and I were practically raised there. Occasionally, we would relent and let my sister Betty and her friend Nadine, be part of the gang. Many an hour was spent riding our ‘stick horses’ and swinging on grapevines. The stick horses were housed in a barn/shed on the back of Grandpa Rush’s property, which faced the jail. I don’t know how we survived the many hazardous activities we undertook for the sake of playtime. There was a rock quarry on the bluff that had a vertical wall about a hundred feet high and due to the blasting to remove the rocks, small caves were opened up. We hopped around on top of the bluff and in the caves like billy goats. Just thinking and writing about the bluff opens up many memories.

We lived on Magnolia Street across from the courthouse square. In those days, farmers came to town on Saturdays, many of them in wagons, and made a day of it. I can still see the wagons and horses tied up in front of Grandpa Rush’s house. On more than one occasion in late summer Grandpa would stop and purchase a watermelon or cantaloupe from the farmers. Grandpa, being the Circuit Court Clerk, had made numerous friends in the town and the county. During their sojourn in town, many of them would come to Grandpa’s house; then walk in unannounced for a drink of water and/or to visit the necessary room. I suppose this was the reason he occupied the office of Circuit Court Clerk for 42 years without anyone running against him.

Saturday was a special day but so was the first Monday of the month. On this day the farmers would bring their horses and mules to town in order to sell or trade them. Because of this horse-trading, the street became known as “Jockey Street”. The smell that existed on those days would attest to the number of animals in town on jockey day.

I vaguely remember kindergarten and elementary school, but as I recall, there were many good times. Things like playing football during recess and at half time during high school football games, and going on school picnics come to mind. Mother always fixed deviled eggs for me to take to the picnics. She absolutely made the best-deviled eggs in Tompkinsville.

I attended Tompkinsville Baptist Church as a young boy. I became a Christian at the age of 12, and was baptized on November 25, 1943. How it occurred is rather unusual; the church held a revival and had afternoon services. In those days, you could be excused from school to attend church. I took advantage of this, attending the services for about a week. Well, listening to the preacher present a fire and brimstone sermon convinced me to become a Christian. I accepted the call during an invitation time and was baptized at the end of the revival. I am sorry to say I did a lot of backsliding in my younger days but thank goodness, I came to my senses when we moved back to Muskogee, where I rededicated my life. Juanita (my wife) and I, along with two of our sons, Jeff and Mark, became members of Boulevard Christian Church. Juanita and I are still active members of Boulevard.

I attended Tompkinsville Elementary School from September 1937 until May 1945. At that time I received a diploma showing completion of studies prescribed by the Board of Education, which qualified me for admittance to High School. The diploma was issued April 21, 1945.

The transition from elementary school wasn’t anything special, just merely swapping buildings, since the two were adjacent to each another. The high school principal, Mrs. Hooper, was a neighbor who lived about three houses from our home at Grandpa Rush’s.

We came home from school for dinner, as the noontime meal was referred to, and it usually consisted of cornbread and beans. One or more of our cousins often joined us. Grandpa Rush was a firm but fair and generous man. He proved this repeatedly by providing our family with food and shelter and many times clothing. One time he purchased a pair of ’clod hopping’ shoes for me. They were meant to be everyday rough housing shoes, but since I only had the one pair, they served as dress shoes for Sunday school as well.

Speaking of Sunday school, Aunt Olivia Patterson gave me a hand-me-down white suit. I was thrilled to death and proudly wore it to church one Sunday. On the way home, Joe Lane and Billy Travis, our next-door neighbors, started calling me “snowball” because of the suit. This produced one of the many fights we had growing up together. Incidentally, I never wore that suit again.

Mrs. Cleon Hooper, my high school principal, recommended that I participate in a high school play simply because, as a youngster, I would go past her house singing (believe it or not). About the only thing I remember about this entire experience was being assigned a part as a female dancer and having to wear a dress. Well in those days, we wore long underwear in the wintertime and I couldn’t see myself wearing long johns with a dress. So what could I do? To make a long story short, I borrowed a pair of boxer underwear from my father without his knowledge and, of course, they were too large. I can vividly remember gyrating around on the stage and at the same time trying to keep my underwear from falling down. It must have been a remarkable sight.

My performance led to my becoming a member of the cheer leading squad. I might add that Joan Emmert, another cousin, had a lot do with this – what with her being a senior and all. For cheer-leading, I wore woolen trousers and a gold sweater with the school name and a black megaphone embossed on the front. The woolen trousers caused me to sweat and that led to an enormous amount of scratching. Cheer-leading was quite an ordeal for a shy youngster, but getting into the ballgames free offset the embarrassment of getting up before a somewhat large audience.

Living in Buel, KY

Later that year we moved to Buel, KY near Glenville, KY and lived there about nine months. The community of Buel consisted of a combination grocery store and a post office. We attended school in Calhoun, KY before returning to Tompkinsville later that same year. We had moved from Tompkinsville because Grandpa Rush died and his house, in which we had lived, was sold. In fact, we had lived there most of the time up to Grandpa’s passing away.

The farmers around Buel came to our house to hire me to work. I did everything, from planting, worming, and suckering tobacco plants to driving a tractor. I learned a very basic lesson in economics that summer. A few farmers first hired me on a half-day basis, probably to see what kind of worker I would make. Later on, I started working full days and when they asked me how much the other farmers paid me, I told them, tripling what I had earned for half days work. I didn’t consider this cheating, just stretching the truth enough to compensate for being underpaid for a half day. I felt they were trying to take advantage of me.

Edwin Collings, my cousin, and I did a lot of double dating that summer. My father had purchased a 1939 Chevy that I would drive on alternate Saturday nights. Edwin used his family’s car when it came his turn. Neither of us was old enough to obtain a license. We were quite the “gad abouts” around Calhoun that summer. I distinctly remember parking in the graveyards to do a little smooching. Well, a lot of smooching.

Like all good things, this also ended when my father had to sell the car. I believe that when my grandfather died, he must have left a few dollars to my dad, which he managed to spend on whiskey and carousing. He simply would not work! I remember him coming to the fields where I was working to bum money. That summer was a terrible time for the family. The custom in those days was to charge your grocery purchases and then ‘settle up’ at the end of the week. This system worked fine until we couldn’t pay which resulted in the store finally cutting off our credit. Aunt Grace, Joan, and her husband came for a visit one weekend. My mother was so embarrassed because we didn’t have any food in the house. Luckily, there was an apple tree on the property, which enabled mother to fix fried apples for breakfast.

Mother and I planted a small garden that summer, even though neither one knew much about gardening. One of our neighbors allowed us to plant potatoes on their property and I cultivated them all summer. After all the work from planting, hoeing, and “laying by”, the patch only yielded a very small amount of potatoes. The low yield seemed to cap off a heart breaking summer.

It wasn’t all bad, however. That summer the neighbors around Buel sponsored a few parties for the young folk. We would roast wieners and marshmallows, followed by a scavenger hunt. The parties were normally held at night when a full moon was present. Anyway, we would pair off, one boy and one girl, to try to find the things on our list. I don’t remember winning any prizes but the scavenger hunts sure were a lot of fun.

Back to Tompkinsville

I started my junior year of high school at Calhoun in September before we moved back to Tompkinsville in October. Upon returning, we re-enrolled in school in the Tompkinsville school system.

I quit school in November, but before doing so, I tried out for the football team but because I was late enrolling in school, most of the good pieces of football gear were already taken. I managed to scrap together enough equipment to suit up for practices. The shoulder and hip pads I had scrounged up didn’t fit and, to top it off, we had leather helmets without a face mask for protection. I learned that the coach, Darrel Carter, had promoted me to the traveling squad at about the time that I quit school. No doubt, he would have given me suitable football attire had I continued.

Darrel Carter was a tough coach. During one of our practices, he warned us younger players not to fool around with girls because it would sap our strength but added an exception for returning war veterans who were married, saying it wouldn’t affect them. We had a good laugh at this, but where Coach Carter couldn’t hear.

The powers that be had ruled that returning veterans who had left high school early because of WWII were eligible to participate in sports. I remember one out of town game where our players were beaten up quite badly while playing against older and bigger guys.

After I quit school in November 1947, I decided to join the Navy when I reached the age of 17 in February of the following year. Things were not going well at home and I thought there had to be a better way, so I enlisted in the Navy. My parents had to sign a release for me to enlist because of my age at the time, which my mother reluctantly did. I suppose they did it out of frustration, with the situation being what it was and also because there would be one less person to feed. Mother was badly hurt because of this, but felt it was best for the family and for me.

The time span from November 1947 until March 1948 tends to produce a blank. I recall working at the local skating rink and a gas station, which Orville Howard my cousin-in-law owned. I don’t remember much more except eating dinner at Aunt Grace’s about every night. She took in boarders and set a fine table for them and unknowingly for me also. Aunt Grace had a lot of Grandpa Rush in her, for instance, she gave me $5.00 to cover traveling expenses to Louisville, KY to be inducted into the Navy.

Beginning of my Naval Career

I made contact with the Navy Recruiting Station in Bowling Green, KY and after I was accepted for enlistment, I was sent to boot camp at Great Lakes, IL. That was quite an experience for young boy just barely 17 years old. I didn’t start boot camp with the guys I had been inducted with because they found something wrong with me during the physical. After running tests for a week, they finally released me for duty. I never did find out why. I just remember urinating frequently in a bottle and giving at least a gallon of blood, or so it seemed.

We had an ex-marine for our company drill instructor who evidently took a perverse pleasure in shaking my bunk in an effort to get me up in the morning. Still in my teenage years, it was almost impossible to get me out of bed at 5:00 in the morning. Thinking back, boot camp must have been good for me physically since I gained 30 pounds and grew from around 5′ 8″ to 6′ 1 and 3/4″ in the three months I was there.

The Great Lakes training center, due to its location, was an extremely cold place around March. I remember doing close orders drills outside and marching, as a company, to the chow hall and standing in line to get our food. The three squares meals a day were a welcome relief from the rigors of basic training. I must admit that I found the Navy food to be excellent.

In order to make some spending money during boot camp, I contracted to wash sea bags for other members of my company. What a mistake that was! When I realized, because of the type material they are made of, just how much work is involved in scrubbing a sea bag I soon quit that business. My next enterprise was taking swimming tests at $5.00 a person for those in my company who couldn’t swim and all the while worrying about being discovered.

We were granted leave for a few days following completion of boot camp. While on leave, I visited my Grandmother Collings. The most memorable experience about the leave was walking five miles from Calhoun to Glenville at about midnight after spending the evening with Thelma (Edwin Collings future bride). She must have been mad at Edwin during that time for her to have gone out with me or maybe it was because of the “sailor suit” I was wearing.

NAAS Saufley Field, Pensacola, FL

After our leave, we traveled by a troop train to NAS Pensacola, Fl. The trip took three or four days because the troop train that we were on was side railed for every passenger and freight train around. Getting to chow with all those sailors on board was an experience one doesn’t soon forget. Several of the men were caught gambling and were put on report when we reached NAS Pensacola. I didn’t have any money anyway, so I wasn’t gambling, thank goodness. From NAS Pensacola I was transferred to NAAS Saufley Field, FL

At Saufley Field, I changed my rating from Seaman Apprentice to Airman Apprentice, which was the launching point of my aviation career.

NAAS Saufley Field was one of the auxiliary airfields surrounding NAS Pensacola that was used for training Navy pilots. I was part of the crew assigned to the flight line to make sure the SNJ’s, Navy flight trainers, were ready for flight. Each flight sortie of trainees always had an instructor pilot flying with them, but in a separate airplane, to offer advice and/or admonition. Occasionally, we would bum a ride with the flight instructors. I recall my first flight very vividly. The pilot really “wrung” me out by performing a series of acrobatic maneuvers but luckily, I didn’t get airsick until after we landed. After exiting the plane, I started barfing so badly that I thought my toenails were coming up. Talk about being airsick. Wow!

While at Saufley Field, I was able to arrange for the family to receive an allotment. I don’t remember exactly how it worked except that I furnished part and the Navy also contributed. I believe it was in the neighborhood of $30.00, which was a goodly amount for the family. I had to stop the allotment when I got married and make a new one for Juanita.

While at Saufley I was promoted to Aviation Machinist Mate 3rd Class.

NAS Corpus Christi, TX

After spending 18 months at Saufley Field, I was transferred to NAS Corpus Christi, Texas to a training squadron of PBM’s, a patrol bomber, and then later to the Operations Department where I worked as a fire fighter and, for a short while, in the sheet metal shop. Along came the Korean War and, as a result, most of the Marines assigned to NAS Corpus Christi were transferred to outfits getting ready for duty in Korea. Sailors took over many of the duties of the Marines and I was “shanghaied” for this duty. Frank Sherrill, a friend and a sailor in the security department where we were assigned, lived next door to Irene (Juanita’s sister). One of my duties was standing guard at the entrance gates to the base. Frank told me about a young lady who had seen me at the gate and expressed a desire to go out with me. He told Juanita somewhat the same story but in reverse. We managed to get together for a date and the rest is history.

My enlistment was scheduled to end March 2, 1951 but President Truman extended every one’s discharge date by one year. I rationalized that since I would have to spend another year already, and more than likely would receive an additional extension, I would beat the game by reenlisting for six years and get the bonus the Navy was offering at the time. About two or three years later I remember thinking what a big mistake I had made. However, as it turned out, it was a pivotal point in my life leading to Kaman Aircraft and the opportunities they offered.

Juanita and I were married April 2, 1951 in Muskogee, OK. You talk about starting married life on a shoestring; we were the epitome of that. I had cashed a US savings bond redeemable for $18.75, and I even paid the preacher out this pile of loot.

After graduating from Checotah High School in May of 1951, Juanita came to Corpus Christi to live with me. Juanita had signed an agreement with her Mother before we were married that she would graduate from high school.

We lived in a couple of places while at Corpus Christi. One was a very small apartment and the other a converted chicken house or so I thought. It was basic living at best. We lived in two different houses because we went on leave to Tompkinsville, KY and didn’t want to pay rent while we gone. To be completely honest, the real reason we went to Kentucky was to show off my new bride to my family.

While we lived in Corpus, I tried to teach Juanita how to play cribbage but she refused to comply with the convention of saying “fifteen-two and a run of four” when laying down her cards to count points. Our first argument and our last game of cribbage ever played together.

San Diego before Deployment on the USS Essex

We lived in Corpus Christi until I received orders to VF-871 at NAS San Diego, California in December 1951.

I was transferred to a squadron stationed at North Island, CA operating F4U Corsair aircraft. The following was taken from the history of Fighter Squadron VF-871 of which I was a member:

“In September 1951, training began to integrate the squadron as a fighting unit. New pilots, many fresh from the training command, and new personnel reported aboard. Most of our training took place at NAS, North Island (San Diego, CA). At this point, our flights consisted mostly of cross-countries, instruments, formation, and Ground Controlled landings and in¬tercept work. This flight training was supplemented with three trips to NAAS, El Centro, California. At these times, administrative work was practically forgotten as we adopted an “around-the-clock” flight schedule. Operations were conducted from early morning to late at night. We flew air-to-air gunnery missions, bombed, used rockets, strafed, and conducted close air support flights under the guidance of a forward air controller. Everything was geared to equipping our pilots for the type of flights that they were soon to fly in the combat zone. It was here, in addition, that the maintenance and ordnance crews were to get a taste of the long hours they could expect in the combat zone. Our only remaining task was packing to move aboard the ESSEX. This was accomplished on the first of June. Last minute preparations were made and on the sixteenth of June, in the early morning, we said goodbye to our loved ones, walked aboard the ESSEX, watched Point Loma fade from view, and went forward to write the history that is to be found in this volume.”

I broke my ankle while the squadron was temporally assigned to NAAS El Centro, CA and was transferred to the US Naval Hospital at Balboa Park, CA to recuperate. While I was at Balboa Park, Harry Dodd, my brother-in-law, returned from deployment to Korea on the USS Essex. Juanita must have notified me of his whereabouts because I called him at the receiving station at San Diego and he returned my call. We made plans for him to visit me at hospital. His visit was a welcome respite from the dull routine at the hospital. He said he would contact Dr. Cornstubble, Juanita’s doctor, and have him arrange for me to go Checotah for David Stephens’ birth. He was unable to do so.

Our eldest son, David Stephen, was born on April 13, 1952 at 6:01AM in Checotah, OK while I was still in the hospital at Balboa Park, CA. Juanita, or someone, notified me through the American Red Cross of David Stephen’s impending birth. I was able to obtain an emergency leave to go to Oklahoma. I didn’t arrive in time for his birth but it sure was nice just to be there and see my new son. During her pregnancy, Juanita kept me up-to-date on her condition by having her picture taken in a side view profile.

My going to Oklahoma resulted in being put on report for over staying my leave. I had miscalculated the time it took to go by train from Muskogee to San Diego. I was acquitted, so to speak, when I explained my situation. During the later part of my recuperation and while wearing a walking cast, the hospital people assigned me to “gurney duty”. I would wheel people to the operating rooms, sometimes it was even women about to give birth. I was glad to leave that place and resume normal duties.

We departed June 16, 1952 from San Diego aboard the USS Essex bound for the Korean theater of operation .We arrived in Hawaii on July 1st and left July 3rd. A readiness inspection was conducted before going on to Subic Bay, Philippines, Yokosuka, Japan and on to Korea.

While at sea during the readiness inspection, which all ships were obliged to undergo, we had a man overboard drill. At the same time the alarm was sounded, someone actually fell overboard. After convincing the skipper that a man really was in the water, rescue operations were finally undertaken. Such was life while at sea.

During our deployment, we were in port in Subic Bay, Philippines on July 17 – 18 and in the operating area off Formosa Straights on July 19 – 22. From there, we proceeded to Yokasuka, Japan. During the cruise, we spent the following dates in Yokosuka: July 25 – 28, September 6 – 18, November 2 – 13, and January 13 – 25. And in the operating area off the coast of Korea: August 1 – September 4, September 20 – October 31, November 16 – 24, December 8 – January 11.

This was a most unpleasant tour of duty. It was monotonous being at sea, launching, and recovering strike aircraft for three days of around the clock operations. My job was supervising the men on the flight deck in launching, recovering and spotting and just generally seeing that the aircraft in our squadron were ready for flight. Wintertime was especially brutal because the ship turned into the wind to launch or recover our planes. The ship would be doing about 25 to 30 knots, and to this, add a prevailing wind of another 25 to 30 knots, it got darn cold. You had to be extra careful when launching aircraft, making sure you weren’t blown into a rotating propeller by the wind over the deck or airflow from the props of other aircraft.

Once I escaped serious injury when a flight deck tractor, similar to the ones used to move aircraft in civilian airports, almost ran me down. Thank goodness, someone called out soon enough, which enabled me to jump on the hood of the tractor where I hung on until it stopped. Sure scared me!

Here is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to Juanita on 2 August 1952.

“Honest honey, I never saw the likes in my life; all the guys who work on the line are walking around like they are half dead. The chief and I had it out today. He wanted them to clean the aircraft while they were on the hanger deck but I told him they were just too tired. The —- really hit the fan then, but he finally agreed with me.”

This was a chief with the responsibility for flight decks operations for our squadron and who never ventured to the flight deck and left the supervision of the crew to me. I spent a great deal of time in the flight deck control waiting on word where and when our aircraft would be spotted and tied down for the night. This usually occurred several hours after flight operations ceased.

During my time on the Essex, Juanita wrote me letters practically every day. I would receive them in batches of three or four when we took the day off from flight operations to replenish our fuel and to take on provisions from a re-supply ship, which also delivered our mail while we were out to sea. When in Yokosuka the letters arrived just about every day.

It’s funny the things you remember. Our squadron had a Christmas party at a hotel in Yokosuka, Japan. At the party, two others guys and I sang Rudolph the red nosed reindeer which was intended to make fun of a junior pilot who a great big red nose. To this day, I regret having done so. I just recently re-established contact by e-mail with him. His name is Marshall Ewing.

It was an exciting day when we received word that we were returning stateside knowing we were going home to our loved ones. The Essex arrived in San Diego 6 February 1953.

Upon returning to the states, we were granted leave. I hitch hiked to Oklahoma to be with Juanita and David Stephen, or Stevie or Davy as we sometimes called him in those days. I enjoyed myself immensely while there and sure dreaded to return to San Diego knowing we were scheduled for another deployment.

Temporary Duty at NATC Millington (Memphis) TN

However, fate intervened. In April 1953, I was transferred to NATC Memphis, TN for advanced schooling in my rate (Aviation Machinist “B” school). This was an unusual thing to go to school during a sea assignment. You have often heard the old saying – it isn’t what you know but whom you know. I was friendly with a guy in the squadron’s administrative department, who was from Kentucky also, and who got me a set of orders for “B” school. How he got the TAD (Temporary Additional Duty) past the Commanding Officer I will never know. Anyway, he did, and has had my undying gratitude for swinging the deal.

While at NATC Memphis, I managed to flunk three courses in order to stay in Memphis for the birth of our second son, Paul. I’m sure the instructors understood what I was doing because I had outstanding grades in all of my previous courses.

Paul was born on 29 October 1953 at 5:05 pm in the US Naval hospital at Millington, TN located just north of Memphis. Since he was a “preemie”, his first 24 hours were under oxygen. We called him “Butchie” for the first few months after he was born, never did understand where the nickname “Butchie” originated. He remained in the hospital for three days. Juanita, David Stephen, and Paul, who was only one week old, returned to Oklahoma by plane and I returned to my squadron, now designated VF-123, and located at NAS Mimar, CA.

Second Cruise on USS Essex

After returning to my squadron, we departed on 1 December 1953 to participate in the China Sea Peace Patrol (never did understand exactly what we did). On one of our in-port times at Yokosuka, Japan, I had the pleasure of spending four days at a Japanese staffed hotel in the mountains that was set up as a rest and recreational facility for our service people. It was a very beautiful setting with snow everywhere and Mt Fujiyama, which was active at the time, in the background. It was quite a sight. The following is an excerpt from a letter written to my parents describing the service at the hotel.”

“The service there was out of this world. Every time we entered the building, there was someone to open the door and clean the snow off your shoes. Even when we pulled out a cigarette to smoke there was always someone standing by to light it. Boy, they did a million different things for us. It rather spoiled me. It sure was hard to leave that and have to come back to this iron tub.”

NAS Patuxent River, MD

In March of 1954, I received orders to transfer to NATC Patuxent River, MD. I left the Essex at NAS Subic Bay, Philippines and boarded a troop ship headed for San Francisco. The best I can remember, it took about a month to make the trip.

Following a 30-day leave, which I spent in Oklahoma and Tennessee (where my folks now lived), Juanita, David Stephen, Paul and I left in a 1949 Studebaker that I had purchased in Checotah, and headed for NATC Patuxent River, MD. We arrived there with about five dollars and no place to stay. We finally found a tiny two-room apartment attached to a neighborhood bar in Ridge, MD. I can still hear the music playing to this day. Since what little household effects we owned had not arrived yet, Juanita was cooking in coffee cans and the likes and generally making do. We set up a credit arrangement with a local grocery store in order to buy food. Soon afterwards, we found a duplex to live in and made it our home for the remainder of the time we were at Pax.

My transfer to ‘Pax’ River was truly a blessing. I attended several schools while at Patuxent including T40 engine school in Indianapolis, IN, Sikorsky HR2S School in Bridgeport, CN and Kaman HOK-1 School in Bloomfield, CN. The experience I gained while working on helicopters at Pax and the connections I made with Kaman people enabled me to get a job with Kaman Aircraft Corporation, a position that I truly adored. I owe much of my good fortune, to Jerry Leguault, a Kaman Representative assigned to Pax River at the time, and to Les Morris, head of the service department at Kaman, for recommending my hiring. Les Morris flew the early Sikorsky helicopters and was the first pilot to receive a license to fly helicopters. More can be found in the web site listed here for those especially interested in aviation: History in the Making: The First Helicopter Delivery

My tour of duty at Pax was full of interesting happenings. Things such as being dropped off next to my house in Ridge, MD by a HOK-1 helicopter late one afternoon only to realize later that I had left my car at work. Another helicopter excursion took us to West Virginia to locate a site with minimum noise interference so another government agency could build a radar/radio receiving antenna (a cold war reaction). I can still recall the “hillbillys” gathering around our helicopter asking what we were doing there. And another time, while en route from Bloomfield, CN to Pax River in a HOK-1 helicopter, we flew under a bridge in Philadelphia. Ah, the good old days when one could do such things and not have anyone call you on it.

Our son, Mike, was born in the US Naval Hospital at Patuxent River on 14 May 1955. I was not at the hospital for his birth. I believe I was baby sitting David Stephen and Paul. Mike sure was a pudgy little guy. We made an emergency run soon after his birth to the Naval Hospital in Bethesda, MD right outside Washington, D.C. because Mike had a strangulated hernia. After a relatively high-speed trip thru Washington to Bethesda in our Studebaker, I inspected the tires and found one to be almost completely bald. The good Lord was surely with us that night. I don’t remember the exact set of circumstances, but it was during his recuperation that we found Paul jumping on Mike’s stomach. It certainly was a miracle that the sutures from the operation didn’t tear out.

My Career with Kaman Aircraft Begins

I was discharged on Friday, March 2, 1957 at Patuxent River, MD and went to work at Kaman Aircraft Corporation the following Monday as a Field Service Technician.

Juanita with David Stephen, Paul and Michael in tow, left Pax for Oklahoma. Going through some old paper work, I discovered the Navy had paid us $83.28 travel allowance for the family. This was computed on 1388 miles at 6 cents per mile and paid in October 1957. We had decided Juanita and the three boys would move to Oklahoma after visiting the Hartford, CN area and finding the rentals extremely expensive. It was not a hard decision to make since I knew my work, as a Kaman Representative, would soon require me to go out on assignment. They flew from Washington, DC to Tulsa, OK by American Airlines on March 21, 1957. Juanita had saved David Stephens’ ticket as a memento. The cost of the ticket was only $37.51. All four flew for $149.64. Today the airfare for one person costs around $300.

USMC Air Station Mojave, CA

This position as Field Service Technician was to provide technical assistance in the operation and maintenance of the HOK-1 helicopter. I was assigned to work with the Marines at USMC Air Station, Mojave, CA. These types of assignments were always under military contract and required a good bit of politics to keep the job open. This was done by trying to convince the military command structure at your assignment location to ask for your continued services.

I learned to fly helicopters while on assignment at Mojave. I remember the first time the pilot let me have the controls to try to hover, that is, to stay over a point on the ground. I was all over the airfield. After telling me to hold the cyclic stick loosely, I quickly learned that this was the secret to keep from over controlling. It wasn’t long before I became proficient in handling the ship.

After spending a short time at Mojave, I was transferred to Quantico, VA. There I worked with the Marine Squadron HMX-1 that was operating HOK-1 helicopters. Before leaving Mojave, I purchased a trailer from one of the sergeants to haul our belongings to Quantico. The crew at Mojave graciously built and installed a trailer hitch on my car. On our trip to Quantico, and somewhere in Arkansas, the trailer axle broke leaving us stranded. Luckily, there was a small motel with a restaurant nearby. After arranging with a local mechanic to repair the trailer, we settled in for a couple days in the motel. To call it a motel and restaurant was a misnomer. The restaurant had a dirt floor and the motel room was the tiniest thing imaginable, and to top it off, no air conditioning.

USMC Air Station Quantico, VA

We found temporary housing in Fredericksburg, VA, but the landlord sold it soon there- after and we had to move. We located another house in the same neighborhood at 3011 Normandy Ave. We purchased some furniture from the owner of the first house. You can still find remnants of that furniture in our home today.

Being assigned to Quantico was most pleasurable. The people there treated me extremely well and I became good friends with several of them. The work was rather routine, except the time one of our HOK helicopters went down in the woods. No one was hurt but Kaman’s reputation was sullied by the incident. A lever to the clutch assembly had broken causing loss of power from the engine to the rotor.

During the Eisenhower administration HMX-1, along with the US Army, were responsible for providing helicopter transport for the president. As contrasted against today’s security, there was practically no security. I remember sitting in the presidential helicopter and talking to the people who maintained it. That soon changed, however, when they built a fenced-in area in which to hanger the helicopter.

This was about the time Volkswagens became popular. I fell under the spell of wanting to own one. I went to Richmond, VA to a dealership to buy a VW and they told me there would be a waiting list of 18 months. Due to my impatience, I wound up buying a used Volkswagen instead.

While assigned to the Quantico Marine Base, I took flying lessons in Fredericksburg and earned my Private Pilot license for Airplane-Single Engine on June 6, 1958. My father was the first person to fly with me after I received a pilot’s license.

Juanita and I were invited to spend the weekend with some Marine friends of ours from Fredericksburg who had been transferred to Camp Lejune, NC. We flew down in a Cessna 150, a two-seater model. On the way down, Juanita, who was four months pregnant with our fourth child, got airsick and used my map case as a barf bag. We returned to Fredericksburg after the weekend, me flying the Cessna and Juanita taking the train. She had had it with small airplanes that bounced all over the sky.

Another time, I flew over to Lexington Park, MD, a small town adjacent to NATC Patuxent River, to visit with some friends. The only place to land was in a grass field. I landed okay but the take off the following day was a really hairy deal to say the least. The grass had not been cut for some time and was taller than the wheels on the plane. This created a problem of being unable to gain sufficient airspeed to take off because of increased drag. Nevertheless, I made it.

Duty in Japan, East Okinawa, Philippines and Guam

Kaman transferred me to Okinawa from Quantico in November 1958. There I was assigned as the Technical Representative to VMO-1, a marine squadron located at USMC Airbase at Naha. Juanita and the three boys decided to stay in Fredericksburg, VA while I was on this overseas assignment, which lasted eight months. I covered not only Okinawa but also HUK-1 operations in Japan, Philippines, and the island of Guam.

It was on one such trip that I learned of our son Jeff’s birth. He was born on March 24, 1959, but I didn’t learn of his birth until some time later. A cablegram advising me of his birth had chased after me from Okinawa to the Philippines and on to Guam. On March 25, Juanita wrote a letter giving the details of his birth. She said he weighed six pounds 12 and 1/2 ounces and was 19 inches long and had red hair. Juanita was only at the hospital for an hour before Jeff was born.

Juanita thought she had a sitter all lined up to stay with our three sons while she was in the hospital, but a few days before her due date, the sitter called to say that she was ill and could not come. In tears, Juanita called Irene and told her of the desperate situation. Irene, with Perry, her two year old, in tow, took a train and came to her rescue. God in His infinite wisdom knew in advance that Juanita would need family because while Irene was there they received word that their mother was in the hospital seriously ill from a series of strokes. If Irene had not come, Juanita would not have had any family with her during this very difficult time. With a brand new baby and three other little ones under the age of seven, traveling to see Mama Carr was out of the question. Irene and Perry stayed with Juanita for about two weeks after Jeff’s birth.

While stationed on Okinawa, I was authorized to wear a Marine Officers uniform during working hours. When I walked around the airbase, the young Marines would salute me and, of course, I gave them a snappy salute in return. I wore an insignia specifying that I was a civilian working with the military, but on the uniform it must have looked intimidating to a young Marine. They didn’t know exactly what it stood for, so to play it safe, they saluted. They were taught, when in doubt salute.

The Marines of VMO-1 really treated me well. I was just like one of them, in fact, so much so, they put me on a flight training routine in their fixed-wing aircraft. The training consisted of various flight maneuvers including spins. In addition, I flew the HOK’s on test flights following maintenance or to trouble shoot in-flight problems. I also joined a civilian flight club that had an old J-3 airplane. Flying on Okinawa was tricky due to the extremely windy conditions that prevailed most of the time.

While on Okinawa, I lived in the BOQ, Bachelor Officers Quarters, and everyone had a Japanese maid that cleaned our rooms and did our washing and ironing. Since I traveled extensively, my maid had a key to my room .She always locked the door when she left for the day. On one occasion, when I returned from a trip to the Philippines, a very unhappy officer who, incidentally, was the Executive Officer for the squadron, met me and wanted to talk. It turned out that for two nights the radio in my room had been playing so loudly that it interfered with his sleep. He was unable to get into my room to turn it off because the maid had locked the door. I might mention his room was adjacent to mine. His feathers were somewhat ruffled to say the least.

While on Okinawa I received a promotion to a Field Service Representative in February 1959.

I may have made the tour covering the Far East sound attractive, but there were certainly many lonely hours. What was especially hard was being separated from my family and realizing that they, too, were undergoing hardships. Eight months is a long time of not being at home, missing the everyday antics of my boys and watching them grow up. For this I am extremely sorry.

I left Okinawa around the middle of July 1959. My next assignment would be with HU-2 at Lakehurst, NJ, but not until after going on a long awaited vacation with my family.

NAS Lakehurst, NJ and the Toms River Area

After spending eight months covering Japan, Okinawa, Philippines, and Guam for the US Marines and US Navy, I was sent to NAS Lakehurst, NJ in August, 1959 as the Technical Representative with HU-2. I covered HMX-1 at MCAS Quantico, VA on an on-call basis while being assigned to HU-2. Both operated basically the same type of helicopter except for the difference in assigned missions and aircraft designation. The Marine designation was the HOK-1 and they used the helicopter for observation, while the Navy designated theirs the HUK-1, which stood for a utility helicopter, used basically in sea-air rescues. The HUK-1 was deployed on small ships as well as on aircraft carriers.

Juanita and the kids stayed in Checotah, Oklahoma from August until October 1959. After they arrived in New Jersey, we moved into a house at 16 Parkway Blvd in South Toms River, NJ. Later on, we moved into a large two-story house in nearby Pine Beach, NJ. The tour of duty at Lakehurst was very interesting and enjoyable. We made many friends while there. Also, on more than one occasion, Marines that I had known on Okinawa stopped at NAS Lakehurst for overnight stays while flying cross country in the HOK-1.

I bought a Renault convertible from an Officer in HU-2 who had purchased the car in France and had it shipped back to the states. It was undoubtedly the worst performing car I had ever owned, but mercifully, it caught on fire and was totaled. A short time later, I purchased a red Chevy II convertible. When I brought it home, Juanita started crying. When I ask why she was crying she said, “It doesn’t match my hair.”

I especially remember a couple of Navy people I met while at Lakehurst, Joe Reilly, the Maintenance Officer and Gene Zak, an LDO in the Maintenance Department. A LDO, Limited Duty Officer, is an ex enlisted man promoted to officer rank. Gene was promoted from a 1st Class Petty Officer to Ensign. Joe Reilly made CDR while at Lakehurst. Joe fitted the stereotype Irishman in that he enjoyed hoisting a few beers. I have more to say about drinking but will save it for inclusion later on.

Temporally Assigned to the Kaman in Bloomfield, CN

I stayed at Lakehurst until January 1961 at which time I was called back to the plant in Hartford, CN for training on Kaman’s new helicopter, the HU2K-1. The HU2K-1 was destined to be the replacement for the HUK-1 and the HUP-1, a helicopter built by Piasecki Helicopter Company that was also used by the Navy for rescue operations. Juanita and the boys remained in Toms River, NJ while I was at the plant. I commuted home to Pine Beach on weekends.

One the pilots from Lakehurst, LCDR “Bull” Dawson, was transferred to Kaman to head up the Navy Office. His basic job was to administer the contracts for the Navy. He also flew acceptance flights of Navy helicopters. Bull’s family remained in Lakehurst and we made the weekend commuting trips together.

The Service Department, which was the department I worked out of when at the factory, was located about five miles from the main plant. Kaman had a flight line at the plant where the helicopters under development were test flown. The following incident I am going to relate was one experience I had rather forget but in writing about this phase of my life, it continues to stand out.

On a trip from the Service Department to the main plant with Jack King, another Kaman Representative, we witnessed the aftermath of a gruesome helicopter accident that occurred just outside the plant perimeter. Two of our pilots were conducting a test flight and had the floor panel removed from the co-pilots side of the cockpit so they could observe the action of the flight controls. One of the pilots was moving from the cockpit to the cabin area when his foot jammed the flight control mechanism in a nose down attitude, causing the aircraft to crash. Both pilots were killed with one them being decapitated. Being a witness to such a horrible event is not a pleasant thing to remember. This definitely set back Kaman’s HU2K-1 development program for a while.

Because the development of the HU2K-1 was running behind schedule, I was sent to Bogotá, Columbia on September 6, 1961 to work with the Colombian Air Force covering H-43B operations. The H-43B was built by Kaman for the US Air Force.

On Assignment in Colombia, South America

The Colombian Air Force was using the H-43B’s in an attempt to squash the terrorists, drug producers, and drug dealers. Ed Noe, another Kaman Rep, and I worked outside the capital city of Bogotá at a couple of Colombian Air Force bases located in the middle of the ‘boonies’. We were primarily at the Colombian Air Force bases in Palanquero and Melgar. I remember the weather in both of these cities as being very hot and very humid since they were close to the equator. While at Melgar, we stayed in a hotel in Guardot, a small city about twenty miles from the base. Being in Guardot was a welcome relief as the hotel had a swimming pool and air-conditioned rooms. We spent a great amount of our non-working time in the swimming pool and playing ping-pong near the pool. Incidentally, the food was terrible. About the only dish edible was the chicken dinner.

We commuted from Guardot to Melgar by taxi. Sometimes we would hitch hike back to Guardot when we left the base early. With the benefit of hindsight, this was stupid thing to do. The terrorists were active in the area – even to the point of stopping buses to rob the passengers and committing such atrocities as cutting off people’s fingers to remove their rings.

We encountered two or three Russians while in Guardot. I suppose they were there to give aid and comfort to the rebels who were supporters of communism.

The Colombian pilots did not have a great amount of flight time in the H-43B’s when they first received them and it showed. On a flight from Palanquero to Melgar, I flew as co-pilot. The pilot was extremely “shaky”. While performing the cockpit pre-flight, the pilot was so nervous that he could hardly find the right switches to set. What a feeling! I darn did not go with him but felt as if I had to protect Kaman’s image.

I recall working with one of the mechanics, who incidentally wasn’t too well versed in the English language, saying to me as a compliment, I suppose, “You are what we call miscellaneous”. He meant that I did a lot of different things in performing my job. Was he ever right about that! We had to train the Colombians as well as insuring that the aircraft was safe for flight.

Homeless kids were everywhere in Bogotá. At night, they slept in doorways or on the sidewalks and during the day, they begged for money constantly. It made me feel really sad because I was unable do to anything to help them, but at the same time I was angry with the Colombians for allowing this situation to exist.

On a more positive note, we visited an underground Cathedral carved out of an old salt mine. This was unique.

I spent about two months in Colombia before returning to the states in late October, 1961. I certainly was glad to leave Colombia behind and return to American type civilization. My experiences while in Colombia made me truly appreciate the life style Americans enjoy and the freedom it affords each of us.

The family went to Oklahoma to stay with Juanita’s mother while I was in Colombia. In rereading some old letters that Juanita wrote, the kids were very happy to be in Oklahoma and around her mother-Mama Carr – as she was affectionately called.

Family Located in California, MD while I was on Various Assignments

In December 1961, Juanita and the kids moved from Oklahoma to California, MD anticipating that I would be transferred to Patuxent River as part of a team from Kaman to assist the Navy in testing the HU2K-1. My involvement in this phase of testing was to take place in the Service Test facilities at Patuxent River. Working in this department was like going home, since it was where I had worked while in the Navy. The intent of testing the helicopter was to evaluate how it performed under extreme flight conditions and to ensure it’s readiness for delivery to the fleet squadrons. The tests were delayed until March 1962. I spent the next three and a half months at the factory and commuted to Patuxent River on weekends to be with my family. While at the plant I traveled to several Air Force bases in support of H-43B operations.

I drove my Renault to Waco, Texas on one trip. While in Waco, Bob Bassett, my supervisor, ask me to make a call on Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio on the way back to the factory. On the way there, and somewhere in Tennessee, the car quit running. This was around midnight and miles from any sign of civilization. Trouble shooting the problem showed a broken rivet that held the points together. With the points inoperable, there was no “juice” to fire the spark plugs on the engine. I managed to repair the points using a nail from a toolbox that I always carried in the car for emergencies and by using a cigarette lighter as a source of light.

I stopped in Tompkinsville, KY to visit Uncle Bob and Aunt Kate. Uncle Bob was my father’s brother. On Sunday, I visited the Tompkinsville Baptist Church with Billy Rush’s ex-wife before continuing my journey.

I made a service call at Wright-Patterson to fix a flight problem with their H-43B helicopter. When finished, I headed for Hartford, CN and the plant. On the way, my Renault overheated while I was driving on the Interstate somewhere in Ohio. I pulled over to the side of the road, and with a container I had found in the car, started down an embankment for some water to put in the radiator. Well, anyway, I slipped on the embankment spraining my ankle. I managed to get back to the top and drive to the nearest town. There I camped out in a hotel for a couple of days experiencing severe pain with my ankle. The only way I could get any relief was to prop up my ankle. I sure missed my wife during this episode.

At Patuxent River in a Different Life

The HU2K-1 was finally made ready for testing and on April 16, 1962. I transferred, for real, to Patuxent River. I was put in charge of crew of about 10 or 12 Kaman mechanics and technicians. We maintained the helicopter for the Navy and Navy pilots flew the test flights. This was a very intense effort by all. The helicopter was flown during the day and maintenance performed at night. Sometimes we would work around the clock to ensure the fight schedule was met.

We had some narrow escapes with the helicopter. One day as the helicopter was on the flight line preparing to take-off, Bob Cox a mechanic for Kaman, noticed the tail rotor rotating in an out of balance state (sort of wobbling). We immediately notified the pilots to abort the take-off. The subsequent investigation revealed the bearings in the tail rotor assembly had disintegrated. This had the potential for being an extremely serious situation. The loss of the tail rotor was a sure fire recipe for an accident which could have been fatal for all on board.

One of the pilots who was in the aircraft at the time of this incident came up to me later totally irate saying, “I am not going to be a sacrificial lamb for Charlie Kaman”. Charles Kaman was the founder and President of the company. This particular officer did not respect my position with the company. The real reason, I concluded, was that I had worked for him while I was in the Navy and he found it very hard to accept my position in civilian life. To him I was still a lowly “white hat”.

We were experiencing severe problems with bearings in the tail rotor failing. In addition, during one period, we had to remove the main rotor blades almost everyday due to extreme wear on the mounting hardware. Not only did we have reliability problems, in flight complaints in the form of a ‘one-per-rev’ vibration were commonplace. A ‘One-per-rev’ vibration is caused by a rotor blade not tracking in the same rotational plane as the other blades, thereby producing a vertical bounce (vibration) that manifested itself as one vibration per revolution

With the hard work by Kaman’s mechanics and engineering help from the plant, the troubles we were experiencing at Patuxent River were finally resolved to the Navy’s satisfaction. The HU2K-1 was finally on its way for duty with the fleet as an advanced helicopter for utility and rescue assignments.

Back To Lakehurst

The first squadron to receive the HU2K-1 was HU-2 at NAS Lakehurst. Delivery was made in December 1962. I was assigned as a Senior Representative to head up a team of representatives to provide training and support to HU-2. Commander LeFevre flew the first fleet delivery to NAS Lakehurst and William C. Casey flew another helicopter from Kaman to HU-1 located at NAS Ream Field, CA. I had worked for Commander Casey at Patuxent River before my discharge from the Navy. He was a very nice individual.

My family was once again uprooted for the move to Lakehurst. We found a rental house at 991 Grace Drive in Toms River, NJ. This move was considered a bonus for us as we expected to be at Lakehurst for two or three years and it was an area we were already familiar with.

One of my failures to my family was my love of a job that required moving often and the uncertainty of where we would locate next. It created hardships on Juanita having to pack up and move whenever I got a new assignment and on the kids having to change schools and make new friends so often. I tried to justify this by believing the education they would receive by their exposure to many different situations and people would make up for the constant relocating. I definitely had a misconception about this. This subject will be addressed again later on, as I continue to write about my life.

The assignment was routine as the squadron became acquainted with the helicopter. I can recall one incident where a helicopter made an emergency landing because of an engine failure. A screw that secured the cowling had become loose and was subsequently ingested by the engine causing it to stop running. Failures of this nature were referred to as FOD, foreign object damage.

Our kids were typical boys, always busy and up to a little mischief. The house we lived in had a finished recreation room in the basement where we spent much of our time. There was a ping-pong table in one section. During a game between Paul and Mike, Paul got mad at Mike and hit him across the bridge of the nose with one of the paddles. On another occasion, Jeff slipped into a storage area in the basement and set fire to a pull cord on the overhead light. It soon spread to other items we had stored there. Juanita’s hand was severely burned while carrying smoldering items out of the basement to the yard. She had to go to the hospital due to smoke inhalation and the burns. David Stephen, not to be out done, while playing in my Chevy 11, managed to shift the car into neutral and release the brake simultaneously allowing it to roll into the street. It was fortunate that we lived on a street where there wasn’t much traffic. Just minor things when viewed in retrospect but which were deemed serious at the time.

Off to Sunny Naples

While at Lakehurst, I was offered an assignment in sunny Naples, Italy. I departed in June 1964 for Italy with Juanita and the boys scheduled to follow in about a month. We had sold our Chevy station wagon and Chevy II convertible before I left, but did not make delivery on the Chevy 11 until the family left for Italy.

I met my tired family at Fiumicino airport in Rome, Italy. From there, we journeyed to Naples, a city and area that was to be our home for the next three years. We moved into an apartment on Via Petracca that over looked the bay of Naples. The thing I remember most about this apartment was the marble flooring through out. To say it was noisy would be understating the situation. We lived on the ground floor and when the people above moved about their apartment, it was very noisy as the sound reverberated off the marble floors. It was somewhat like living inside a drum if you can imagine such a condition.

Before Juanita and the boys arrived in Naples, I hired a woman to help with the housework. Her name was Susie, and certainly a Godsend because she was like a member of the family. She stayed with us almost the entire time we were in Italy. Susie was from northern Italy and spoke a different dialect than the Neapolitan’s. She taught Juanita a dialect used in that part of Italy, while I learned my Italian at school on the Navy base that was geared more to the Neapolitan way of speaking. Think of it as being similar to the different way people from the north speak as opposed to a southerner. Juanita became fluent in speaking Italian.

I bought a car through the Navy Exchange at good price, but had to pick it up in Amsterdam. The boys drew straws to see who would go with me and Mike was the lucky one. We flew to Amsterdam, picked up the car, and drove back through Germany and Switzerland. I must say the valleys and mountains in Switzerland were absolutely breath taking. The trip over the Alps was simply beautiful. I spent so much time “gawking” at the sights that I ran into a back of a car. No damage was done to the cars but my ego sure was bruised. Mike and I spent the night at a beautiful hotel located in one of Switzerland’s many valleys.

Jeff started his schooling in an Italian kindergarten. It must have been extremely difficult for him as he did not speak Italian and evidently, they did not speak a great amount of English. I can still picture Jeff coming home from school wearing his white smock, which was a school requirement. One of our favorite conversations would occur whenever I asked him what he had learned in school today and he would reply, Andiamo a gabinetto” which meant, “We are going to the toilet”.

David Stephen, Paul, and Mike attended Forest Sherman School, an American school for military dependents. David Stephen played football for two years; I seem to recall him playing as a lineman for Forest Sherman.

The Navy had a recreation field in an inactive volcano for all military personnel to use. Since we were given the privileges of the military, we were able to use the facilities also. Years ago, when it became inactive, it formed a bowl shaped depression that was somewhat secluded and made an ideal place to build a park. We took advantage of the family activities offered. The boys were active in baseball and flag football and enjoyed the food available from a snack bar. We spent many weekends at the “rec” field as it was called.

The boys learned Italian quickly. David, Paul, and Mike often rode a bus to the center of Naples and especially to area called Luna Park. They took advantage of knowing Italian and, with some shrewdness on their part, would exchange dollars for lira (Italian money) for the US sailors. Maybe we should have been more careful about turning them loose in large city, but since the Italians are very protective of children, we did not give it a second thought, even knowing Naples was noted for petty thievery due to the high unemployment.

Naples is built on series of hills, and on Via Petracca, our street; the hill was especially steep. The car we had purchased was a green Rambler station wagon with a stick shift. Juanita can attest to what it is like driving up a hill behind a bus which is making numerous stops. She became adept at stopping and starting on steep hills using the clutch and emergency brake in unison with each other.

I was on assignment to COMFAIRMED, a Navy command set up to support the sixth fleet operating in the Mediterranean waters. My task was to provide technical assistance to the units deployed from HU-2 and HU-4 at Lakehurst while they were assigned to various carriers and other smaller ships. In addition, I covered the HU2K-1 helicopters assigned to NAF Naples, Italy and NAF Sigonella, Sicily. Most of the calls for assistance were while the ships were in port.

At others times, I flew by COD (carrier onboard delivery) aircraft out to the carriers that were at sea. Landing on a carrier was an experience unto itself. The aircraft would approach the carrier at speeds in excess of 100 knots and, after landing, be brought to a sudden stop by the arresting gear cables that were strung across the flight deck in the landing area. Take off was also scary because the opposite of a landing occurred. You went from a dead stop to flying speed by a device called a catapult, which is nothing more than a giant steam powered slingshot.

The HU2K-1 was a single engine helicopter equipped with automatic pilot and other electronic gear designed for navigation purposes and night flights over water. It was envisioned that the helicopter could be launched from a ship at night, fly to a point 100 miles or so away, make a rescue and safely return downed pilots. Some of the pilots who flew this type of mission were afraid of engine failure that could cause them to crash at sea, miles from the ship. This was a mission they did not enjoy, in fact, several pilots refused to fly at night. The second generation of H-2’s had two turbine engines but was capable of operating on a single engine and that made such flights more feasible.

I had the pleasure of visiting quite a few of the cities on the borders of the Mediterranean Sea. Places like Cannes and Nice, France; Barcelona, Spain; Istanbul, Turkey; Athens and Thessalonica (Thessaloniki), Greece; and Beirut, Lebanon. Things were much different in the 1964-1967 era. One could travel without fear of terrorism or being hassled, other than by street vendors trying to sell you their wares.

I recall making a trip by rental car from Athens, which is in the southern area of Greece to Thessalonica located in the north of Greece near the Macedonian border. I do not remember how long it took to drive but I do remember stopping at a small roadside restaurant in the middle of Greece. I did not know any Greek and likewise they could not speak English, but through a series of hand gestures I managed to relay that I was hungry and wanted some food. An elderly woman motioned me to follow her into the kitchen where she removed the lids on the pots. I indicated what I wanted by pointing. It sure was good or maybe I was just hungry enough so that anything would have been welcomed.

On a trip to Beirut, I took advantage of the bargains offered for gold products and bought Juanita some gold jewelry. On another trip to Greece, I purchased a Persian lamb fur coat for her. As you probably know, Persian lamb is fur is taken from a newborn or unborn lamb. She still has both the jewelry that she wears on occasion and the coat, which has since been devoured by moths but still hangs in our closet.

One of our helicopters crashed at NAF Sigonella, Sicily necessitating a visit by me to assist in determining the cause. By studying the pilot’s report of what happened, I soon determined that the accident was caused by a combination of hot weather that affected lift and by a down wind approach for landing. The pilot reported hearing a loud bang when pulling up on the collective stick during the approach for landing. The collective stick controls the vertical lift. Simultaneously with the bang, he also noted the engine RPM gauge showing the engine to be slowing down. The bang is indicative of an engine stall when up collective is applied and the engine “tops out” because the collective stick position is demanding more RPM that the engine can deliver. Depending on the altitude, the subsequent landing can be routine or a crash landing.

Because the tail rotor blades were partially torn from the helicopter, the Maintenance Officer, an LDO, was attempting to place the cause of the accident on structural failure of the blades. I spent several evenings with the Captain of the base at his home refuting the Maintenance Officer’s claim, and reinforcing my belief that the cause was the engine stalling because of heat and pilot’s approach during landing. Evidently, I made my point as the official cause of the accident was based on what I had discovered. This was just a typical day in the life of a tech rep.

We moved to a small villa in Lago di Patria, a small community about twenty miles from Naples proper. We moved because we were having problems with our very active boys having no place to play and probably complaints from neighbors because the boys tended to be rather noisy. The villa we moved into was one of five built around a swimming pool. Here the kids roamed at will and went swimming in the Tyrrhenian Sea, which was only a stone’s throw from our house.

The villas were summer homes for the more affluent Italians that they only used during the summer months. They were very nice to us and our boys enjoyed playing with their kids. The Rush boys probably learned their Italian the easy way, kids-to-kids.

We lived there the year around and for a short while were the only Americans there. This soon changed as three or four bachelor sailors rented a villa directly across from ours. That was the beginning of a mass movement of Americans to Lago Patria.

Jeff nearly drowned one day while the kids were swimming in the sea. He was caught by an undertow that carried him out to sea. Suddenly a man appeared, grabbed Jeff and carried him back to the beach. The man then disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. Call it fate or call it an intervention by an angel. Juanita had a premonition that something was wrong and her first thought was for the kids. She went to the beach in time to witness Jeff’s miraculous rescue.

Our entrepreneurial sons established a garbage removal service for the American families living close to our house in Lago di Patria. They would collect their garbage and place it in a pit they had dug. This lasted until the summer months rolled around and the annual migration of Italians to their villas began. They did not exactly appreciate having garbage pits near their property. I never did determine what they did with their refuse. It could have been because the Italian custom of only buying those things to be consumed daily never left any.

Mark, our youngest son, was born at the US Naval hospital in Naples, Italy at 7:10pm on June 22, 1966. He was five weeks premature and weighed five pounds at birth but lost down to four pounds and eight ounces. They finally released Juanita and Mark after four days when he gained his weight back to four pounds and eleven ounces. Juanita was only in labor about two hours. Her water broke at home causing us to leave immediately for the hospital. We dropped the boys at the ‘rec. field’ on the way as they were scheduled to play baseball. Mark was born one hour and ten minutes after we arrived. We were extremely fortunate it occurred on a Thursday instead of the weekend. The Italians leave Naples for the beaches on weekends and the roads in and out of Naples are extremely crowded with small cars and motor scooters. At those times it could take two to three hours from our house to Naples rather than the usual forty-five minutes. Incidentally, motor scooters were a very popular mode of transportation. You would see entire families riding on one.

One of the advantages/disadvantages of living in Lago Patria was not having a telephone. Since we could not be reached by phone, COMFAIRMED, on occasions, would send a driver out to notify me when a trip was required. I can still hear the voice of their driver out side our house calling out in the middle of the night, “Mr. Rush, the Navy needs you to go on a trip”.

The boys still attended the school in Naples and had to catch a bus that only came within four or five miles of our house. It seems being pioneers in locating where no Navy families were living had some disadvantages. Juanita had to drive them to the bus stop in the mornings and pick them up in the evenings.

We were due to leave Naples in June 1967. Shortly before our departure date, I received a call from the HU-4 detachment aboard the USS Springfield, operating off the coast of Israel. They were having problems with the their helicopter. When they attempted to start the engine, a shut off valve controlling oil flow to the engine would close causing oil starvation and subsequently ruining the engine. They replaced the engine but were afraid the same thing would happen again. That is when I received a call to see if I could determine the cause. We conducted electrical checks on the system along with various mechanical checks and could not find the problem. The helicopter was located at the stern of the ship where the gun control radar was located. Thinking the circuits might be receiving stray electric signals from the radar, we asked the captain to fire the radar, but this proved not to be the case.

This was during the six-day war between Israel and the Arab States that started on June 5, 1967. Because of the hostilities that were taking place, I could not get off the ship. I spent my time attempting to find the problem with the helicopter and listening to the results of the fighting taking place.
As you may recall, during the Six-Day War, the American intelligence ship USS Liberty was attacked for 75 minutes in international waters by Israeli aircraft and motor torpedo boats. Thirty-four men died and 172 were wounded. There was concern aboard the USS Springfield that it might be mistakenly identified as a hostile ship and subjected to an attack.

The ship was not directly involved in the shooting war and eventually I was able to leave without solving their problem. It turned out that the oil shut off valve was over traveling its’ on /off position. The valve had been overhauled by the Navy Rework facility at Quonset Point, RI. I am ashamed to say that I could not solve the problem but this was the only problem that I had not been able to solve in the three years that I was assigned to COMFAIRMED.

Back in the States

Our stay in Italy came to an end when we boarded a Pam Am flight to New York City. The flight took about eight hours. I was completely bushed on arrival because Mark, being a Daddy’s boy, would cry if we were seated. If I stood he was quiet, but the moment I sat down he started cry. Believe me when I say, “it was a long flight”.

Before leaving Italy, I had arranged through the Navy Exchange to purchase a Pontiac station wagon that we would pick up at the New York airport. After accepting delivery of our car from the salesman and arranging for insurance from GIECO, we left for Kaman in Hartford, CN. The long trip had finally caught up with us, so we decided to stay in a motel before going on Hartford, and I might add, all of us “crashed” from absolute exhaustion. We spent a few days in Hartford, at Kaman, before taking a well-earned vacation. On the way to Oklahoma, we stopped for a few days in Kentucky to visit my parents and relatives.

As was customary in those days, Mama Carr had a full house of relatives. Irene and Perry spent several weeks with Mama Carr too and that made for an enjoyable time for the kids.

NARF Quonset Point, RI

I left the family in Oklahoma and returned to the plant in Hartford, CN to see where my next assignment would be, which turned out to be NARF Quonset Point, RI, and was to be on a temporary basis. The family joined me in North Kingston, RI for a couple of weeks and then we were to move to Hartford, CN.
To depict the uncertainty in the life of a technical representative and his family, I have included an excerpt from a letter to Mama Carr written by Juanita.

September 23, 1967
Dear Mama,
Well, we finally have a house and the boys are all in school! What a mess this as been. We stayed here in Rhode Island almost two weeks then the official word came that Dave would not be here after September 29 so we went over to Hartford to look for a house. We found one and enrolled the boys in school; they only went one day then Dave got word he would stay here after all, so back we came. Fortunately, we were able to find a house right away so the boys are all in school.
Love,
Juanita

The house we found was located at 695 South Road, Wakefield, RI – about a 20-minute drive to the base in North Kingston. It was in a perfect location in the country. No immediate neighbor, and with woods, all around that provided ample room for the boys and their very active life style. Rock fences and the woods made this an ideal setting for a home. There was only one drawback. The house was poorly insulated and heated by electricity buried in the ceiling and electricity in that part of the country was outrageously expensive.

My job at NARF Quonset Point was as an adviser to the rework facility on the UH-2C helicopter that was undergoing PAR (Progressive Aircraft Rework) and liaison with Kaman’s engineering department. This was a “country club” type assignment because there was not much to keep one busy.

We finally purchased our first home and moved from Wakefield to 65 Scenic Drive in North Kingston, RI in September 1968. If memory serves me correctly, we only paid $19,500. It was an enjoyable place in a nice neighborhood and where we had plenty of room for a change. The basement was completely finished into a living area, an additional bedroom, utility room, and a storage room.

A New Job at Kaman

The never-ending relocation for the family and me reared its head again. Kaman was scheduled to take over the PAR program and they offered me a position as Assistant Project Manager that necessitated a move to the plant. I believed this would be a long term assignment, so I quickly accepted. I took over the new position in October, 1968. The family stayed in North Kingston so the boys would not have to change schools again so soon. David Stephen was a junior and we felt it was important for him to finish high school in Rhode Island. Once again, I was commuting, only coming home on weekends.

In July, 1970, after we sold our home in Rhode Island, we purchased a new home in Enfield, CN. It was a large two-story house with a full basement located at 16 Gem Grove.

We did not have an opportunity to enjoy living in our new home long because I was laid off in November, 1970 after Kaman lost the PAR program. This was distressing to me, not only for the loss of my job but also for the feeling that Kaman had deserted me. I felt that they had not taken into consideration my past service for the company. This experience taught me a lesson that did not soak in until sometime later, but one that will become evident as will be shown later in this saga.

This was not the time to be out of work because the job market in New England was very tight. I applied for all kinds of work, everything thing I could think of that was related to aviation and quite a few that were not. I had received three months severance pay and it was slowly being consumed. Juanita took a clerking job at W.T. Grant department store in Enfield to supplement the money remaining. Her working during this time made me feel as if I had let the family down, but never the less was appreciated.

Juanita won a television set in a contest sponsored by the store but instead of accepting the television, she asked if she could get other items of equal value. It was Christmas time and the items she chose came in handy as gifts. Not knowing how we were going to survive such a devastating blow if I did not find work soon made it a very bleak time.

Then a miracle occurred when I received a call one morning in January 1971 from David Palmer, a supervisor in the contracts department at Kaman, offering me a job as supplies coordinator. David had been a good friend over the years. He and I had spent many a night at his home during my trips back to the plant.

I was in the contracts department for about two months when Bob Bassett in Kaman’s Service Department offered me a Technical Representative’s job at, of all places, Quonset Point, RI. Quonset Point had started to rework the UH2C’s again. This was really the only type job in Kaman that I was well qualified for and one that I enjoyed immensely. The downside to the job; I was hired back as Technical Representative whereas before accepting the position as Program Manager I had been a Senior Technical Representative. However, as the old saying goes, “any port in a storm”.

My family stayed in Enfield until school was out in June 1971, and then moved to Rhode Island. Evidently, this period in my life is quite vague and almost surreal, mainly because of my attitude, and the fact that I was drinking heavily. We had rented a house near the base but only lived in it for a few months.

Life’s Choices and Effects

This proved to be a very difficult for time everyone because Juanita and I decided a separation would be best for the family since I was living a life not conducive to raising kids, so they moved back to Oklahoma. I hired a fellow from the bar I frequented to drive a U-Haul truck to Oklahoma with our furniture. David Stephen, at that time, was working in Providence, RI and did not make the trip to Oklahoma.

This occurred in December 1971. As a result, I spent a very lonely Christmas in the house we had rented. It was now empty of all furniture except for a small bed.

I started out drinking socially but it soon got out of hand. During certain periods in my life, I would regress to drinking heavily for no conceivable reason. Juanita kept trying to get me to quit, but I would not listen; thinking all the while that I was able quit any time I wanted. That was just a drinker’s lie that I kept telling myself. Jumping ahead slightly, I did not quit entirely at this time but kept on drinking “socially”. Later I did quit except for a glass of wine on special occasions. This is extremely difficult to admit, and especially to write about, but I felt compelled to include this in my life’s story. I may have been a bit verbose about some of the good times life has presented to me, but I felt a need to emphasize to the readers and, especially to my family, that life is not always what we desire, but one that is controlled by the choices we make. I firmly believe that drinking is a decision many of us make without fully evaluating the consequences of our actions. Perhaps by highlighting some the frailties I portrayed, it will have a positive effect by helping others avoid the hardships and the hurt it inflicts on those we cherish the most.

I had developed a habit of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope, making the problem seem so far off that I was not concerned, but that in reality was affecting my life and those that I loved dearly.

I rented a car when the family left, but it was too expensive to do that, and maintain two residences at the same time. I found a car for $100, and after doing a little maintenance, it ran well enough to get me to work and back. I found inexpensive lodging in a summer cottage for a short while, but it was a lonely place and quite a distance to where I worked. I finally moved into a motel room closer to where I worked.

Juanita and I had reconciled our differences by phone, and then managed to reestablish our relationship when she flew from Oklahoma to Philadelphia. I was at Lakehurst, a short distance from Philadelphia, on a temporary assignment representing NARF and Kaman. From there, we traveled to North Kingston, RI where she stayed a few days before returning to Oklahoma.
My assignment at Quonset Point ended when Kaman secured the rework program once again. Instead of relocating back to the plant, I accepted a position in Iran.

Living in Iran

I arrived in Tehran, Iran August 1972 and was met at Mehrabad Airport by the Kaman Representative, Bill Barr, who was already serving there with the IIAF (Imperial Iranian Air Force).

Iran is the most populous and the second-largest country in the Middle East, and a major exporter of oil. Iran, which stands for “Land of the Aryans,” was the center of a great empire of the ancient world and remained a monarchy until the Islamic revolution of 1979 and the establishment of the Islamic Republic of Iran. In the West, the country has been known as Persia. Its official language is Farsi (Persian).

When we were in Iran, the Shah of Iran, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, was still occupying the throne. Under the Shah, Iran had been a long-time ally of the United States resulting in the US supplying arms to Iran. This included the HH-43B’s used by the IIAF and the IIPA (Imperial Iranian Police Aviation).

We worked at the Iranian Air Force Base located at Mehrabad airport with quite a few representatives from the other companies that were furnishing assistance to the Iranians in maintaining their jet fighters.

Since the Iranians provided rescue operations with the HH-43B helicopters at several different Iranian Air Force Bases, Bill Barr and I would alternate on monthly inspection trips to the outlying sites. Abe Thomas, Kaman mechanic who arrived about a year later, enabled us to spread out our trips. Most of the time, flights were provided by the military. On one trip, the Iranians used the Shah’s private military airplane to transport us. There were about ten or so flight attendants in training and it was comical to observe them trying to serve the few passengers on board. We were well served, and with grace, which does not appear to be one of the Iranian attributes anymore.

Living in Iran was certainly different than living in Italy. However, for the most part, it was pleasant living. My compensation package was quite generous. I was paid an allowance for housing, schooling for the kids, per diem, and with a car with a driver. This was in addition to my regular salary. Nasser, our driver, would drive me to work and afterwards, the car was available for him to drive for Juanita. She must have felt like a queen, perched in the back seat and having a chauffeur to respond to her every command.

It was an Iranian custom, or maybe a law, that if you were in an accident while driving, you became responsible for the welfare of the family of anyone injured or killed. This made many of the foreigners somewhat skittish about driving. After a while, I became rather macho and only used Nasser to drive me work. At other times, I would drive. Having a chauffeur was certainly a unique experience.

One of our favorite outings was to the bazaar for shopping. A bazaar was not unlike one of our antique or junks stores. One could find almost anything for sale. As an example, on one trip we purchased an antique clock. We nicknamed the clock “Khali Dang, Dang”. This was the seller’s description of the way it sounded when striking the hour. We still have the clock and use that same phrase when referring to it.

Tehran is situated on a plateau at an altitude of about 5000 feet at the base of the Alborz mountain range. It was more or less divided into the have and the have-nots with the haves located on the slopes of the Alborz mountains. We lived in two very nice homes in that area of Tehran. The first house had a swimming pool that was only usable for a very short time in the summer months because of the cool weather at the altitude.

From where we lived, we could see the beautiful snow-topped peaks of the Alborz Mountains. Jeff joined a Boy Scout troop, and took a camping trip on the slopes of the mountain. From what he related to us, it was an enjoyable trip for a youngster to be part of.

The following is a story I must tell concerning Mark when he was only about six. Mike, Jeff, Mark and I went skiing in the Albroz Mountains on the beginners’ slope. When we first arrived, we had taken one lesson. In it we had learned how to position the skis in order to slow down and how to stop. We then rode the ski lift to the top. Assuming Mark had learned these two maneuvers, I turned him loose at the top of the slope. What a sight to behold, watching a six-year old going down hill at very quick pace, crouched down as skiers have a habit of doing, headed for a gang of skiers at the bottom. I immediately took off down hill hoping I could stop him from crashing into someone. I did not make it but got close enough to see Mark crash into one of the skiers- who happened to be British- sending Mark, the Brit, and skis, flying everywhere. Once again, luck held for the Rush family, because Mark was not hurt and neither was the Brit. He was somewhat irate just the same.

Mike, Jeff, and Mark went to Iran with us. Paul stayed in Oklahoma and enrolled at Oklahoma Tech to study drafting. David Stephen moved to Oklahoma and took a job with Coburn Optical. Paul dropped out of school while we were in Iran and took a series of “get by” jobs around Muskogee. This was very distressing to us, mainly because we were so far away and not available for him. Looking back, the late sixties and seventies were tough times for kids to be growing up. This was another of my big mistakes, not recognizing this at the time. I know hindsight is 20/20, but if I had it to do over, I would have done things differently. It is a shame we cannot recognize our mistakes early on.
When at work, I usually ate lunch in a US Air Force restaurant that catered to the Air Force personnel and civilian representatives who worked on the base. They always had soup and small packages of American crackers. Because they were not available in Iranian stores, I began saving the crackers about a month or so before Christmas. Meanwhile, Juanita found some American peanut butter and at a very high price I might add. This was one of Mike’s favorite snacks and so became part of his Christmas present. Juanita was also able to locate some Carnation Instant Breakfast, Jeff’s favorite. Needless to say, they really pigged out. Speaking of pigs, the Iranians did not eat pork and did not sell it in Iranian stores; however, we were able to buy pork at a German owned store

Jeff wanted to build a go-cart or something similar and noticed that the people next door had an old buggy they were not using, with perfect wheels for his project. His way of asking them to buy it was to write a note, put it in an envelope and drop it from their roof onto their front porch in hopes they would find it. Most of the housing in this part of Tehran had high walls surrounding them, but they also had flat roofs. So it was no problem for Jeff to take the outside stairs to our roof and hop across to theirs. Because of terrorist’s activity, we were advised to take precautions, especially as letter bombs had been sent to some foreigners, that is, foreign to Iran. The people next-door were an American Air Force couple who took the warning seriously. The woman called her husband and he in turn notified the proper authorities. I cannot recall the exact results of their visit, but one thing for sure happened, Jeff did not write any more notes.

I finally was able to do something I had dreamed of for years, and that was to fly a glider. This type of flying is unique. The plane was launched into the air by one end of a cable hooked to the nose of the glider and the other end to a catapult that “slung” the glider up into the air. Once airborne you searched for updrafts in order to gain altitude. It’s flying at its best; no engine noise, the only noise was the wind gently whizzing past. Landing required the pilot to coordinate the plane’s attitude with flap position. My first solo landing was quite scary, not having an engine to bail me out of any mistakes I might make. After my first successful landing, subsequent flights were easier because of the confidence level previously obtained.

Juanita, Mike, Jeff, Mark, and I took a sight seeing trip, along with other English-speaking types, for a weekend stay at a caravanserai in the desert south of Tehran. Caravanserais were built, in the olden days, as stopping places where the people and camels in the caravans could rest at night. Regardless of their religion, language, or race, travelers were accommodated and catered to for three days in these caravanserais, their animals were taken care of and fed, and the sick were tended to.

They were large, unfurnished buildings, surrounding a courtyard, and were located at intervals of 30 to 40 kilometers, the approximate distance a camel could travel in one day. These trade routes in Central and Western Asia were known as the Silk Road, because the main goods transported were silk.
The caravanserais were modernized to accommodate tourists. Sleeping quarters were converted camel stables and the restaurant was located in a subterranean room. While there, we went out into the surrounding desert, and found several seashells; an indication the area was once a sea or an ocean.
On another weekend excursion, we traveled to Esfahan, a simply fascinating city. Sheikh Lotfullah Mosque is especially beautiful with its spectacular 40-footdome. We had the pleasure of visiting other Mosques inlaid with blue-tile, which are some the most colorful in the world. Especially notable were the Chahar Bagh and the 17th-century Friday Mosque. The city is also known for its silver filigree, metal work, and dishonest merchants (always count your change).

Mike learned Farsi, the Iranian language, well enough to roam about the city of Tehran with his friends. The kids went to an American school. After Mike graduated from high school in May, 1973, he sort of spent the summer in limbo trying to decide what to do about college. Finally, we decided, along with Mike, that joining the Navy would be the best option for him at this time. He and I flew to Naples, Italy so he could enlist in the Navy. It was with a heavy heart that I witnessed him boarding the airplane at Naples on the way to boot camp in Florida. I had a sinking feeling that we were deserting him like we had deserted Paul.

This happened a month or so before Christmas. Mark had been asking Santa for a GI Joe set for Christmas. Those kinds of toys were simply not available in Iran. We also needed some American style clothing, including a winter coat for Juanita. So, I decided to contact one of our Kaman representatives assigned to COMFAIRMED and who had Navy Exchange privileges. He and his wife went shopping for me, while I baby-sat their young daughter, and purchased clothing, some other gifts, and a GI Joe set. When I left Iran for the trip, I took two extra suitcases with me so I could carry my “loot” back. When I returned to Iran and was going through customs, I was asked what was in the suitcases. I replied, ”Just a few Christmas presents for my family”. Luckily, he waved me on. Good thing too, as the tariff on such items was exorbitantly high. Mark was beginning to have serious doubts about the existence of Santa Claus, but after receiving the GI Joe set for Christmas, he was convinced that there really was a Santa after all.

I had the opportunity to visit Shiraz while on an inspection trip for the Iranian Air Force. The Iranian Airman I was traveling with took me to a famous tea house for a cup of traditional Iranian tea (you drink it by putting a cube of sugar in your mouth and then sip the tea) and to the ruins at Persepolis. He gave me a really interesting lecture on its history.

The following day we visited a Mosque. Everyone was required to remove their shoes before entering. Located in a large room, just after entering, was a very large cage like structure that, by tradition or Islamic law, you had to face as you walked past to enter other sections of the building. I was surprised to find it brimming with money, and never fully understood why it existed, but surmised it was in obedience to the ritual of Zapata, the compulsory giving of alms to the poor (2.5% of a Muslim’s savings). We toured the rest of the building and while doing so, I noticed several people staring at me in a threatening manner. We hastily departed. Later on, I heard of an incident where a Christian had been beaten with a chain just for entering a Mosque.

The Iranians have a unique water system consisting of underground channels that convey water from aquifers in the mountains to the lower levels strictly by gravity. The system for transporting water in this manner is known as a qanat. The qanats built by the Iranians are on a scale that rivals the great aqueducts of the Roman Empire. While the Roman aqueducts now are only a historical curiosity, the Iranian system is still in use after 3,000 years and has continually been expanded. There are some 22,000 qanat units in Iran, comprising more than 170,000 miles of underground channels. The system supplies 75 percent of all the water used in that country, providing water not only for irrigation but also for household consumption. Until recently, before the building of the Karaj Dam, the millions of inhabitants of the city of Tehran depended on the qanat system for their water supply. Today, although the contribution of qanats to Iranian agriculture is declining in relative terms, as more and more dams and wells are built, many qanats are still in use, and the total output is roughly equal to that of the Euphrates River and the Dez River Dam in southern Iran.

It was very interesting, when flying over the qanats, to look down at what appears to be a series of large anthills spaced every ten kilometers or so. These provide access to the vertical shafts and facilitate the cleaning out of the qanats. The anthill like mounds prevent water and debris from entering the shaft and ultimately to the qanat itself. The highly specialized and often dangerous work of digging qanats is still practiced in most of Iran today.

Even though we had enjoyed our time in Iran, I had lost all respect for Bill Barr and asked for a transfer back to the states. Barr was the type of individual who enjoyed playing the role of “big shot”. He was a retired Marine Warrant Officer with privileges to the Air Force Officer’s Club which he lauded over his fellow workers in subtle ways. This, and some of his other actions, raised my hackles to the point that I asked to be transferred. Bill Barr had been a Master Sergeant assigned to VOM-2, a Marine Squadron that I was covering during my time on Okinawa. In those days, we were the best of friends. Maybe he or maybe I changed.

Our Trip to the States

We left Tehran in late May 1974 on a flight to Rome, Italy where we had scheduled a stopover for a short vacation. In Rome, we visited the Vatican and a few other sites before taking a train to Naples. On arriving, I rented a car without out the benefit of a valid international driver’s license (mine had expired). Only a Neapolitan would permit this to occur rather than lose the rental business.

We did the normal tourist things, including riding in a hydrofoil to the Island of Capri. This was our first visit to Capri although we had lived in Naples for three years. It reminded me of the many times we passed up visiting interesting or historical sites in the states. I suppose, as the old saying goes, the grass always seems greener in other places.

We said “ciao” to Naples, our home away from home, and took the train back to Rome to catch a flight to New York City. We arrived on May 31, 1974.

Juanita, Jeff, and Mark were scheduled to take a helicopter from JFK airport to Newark, NJ airport, but our flight from Rome was late, causing them to miss the helicopter flight. Because of the late arrival, the airline arranged for us to spend the night at the airport hotel and provided dinner at their expense.
Juanita said later, that she wanted to fly in a helicopter so she could say that she had traveled by car from our home in Tehran to the airport; by plane from Tehran to Rome; by train from Rome to Naples; by car in Naples; by hydrofoil from Naples to Capri and by helicopter from New York to Newark, NJ. She seemed disappointed at not being able to complete the trip by helicopter.

Back in the States – Again

The next day the family flew from JFK to Louisville, KY where Mike, my brother, met them at the airport. From Louisville, they drove to Owensboro to spend a few days with my mother and father and the rest of the Owensboro family. I reported in with the Kaman people in Hartford, CN for a debriefing, and to find out where my next assignment was going to be. I spent a few days at the plant when, unexpectedly, a temporary assignment opened up with the State of Washington’s Department of Natural Resources. On the way to my new assignment, I met the family in Kentucky, stayed for a few days, then we drove to Oklahoma. We had left our Chevy station wagon with my parents before going to Iran and were retrieving it. I have often wondered if leaving my folks without transportation was one of the reasons my father’s health deteriorated as quickly as it did. When we dropped off the Chevy, my folks decided to give Joe Mike their car which they had purchased from Aunt Monk, mother’s sister.

Working with the State of Washington

From there, I flew to Davis-Monthan Air Force base near Tucson, AZ, leaving the family in Oklahoma waiting to see where I would be located next.
David Stephen was still living in Muskogee and working at Coburn Optical. He was renting an apartment and Juanita, and the two remaining kids still with us, camped out with him between visits to the extended members of her family. They visited Irene and Sam Schulze in Big Springs, TX; Peggy and Harry Dodd in Depew, OK; and Edith and Bob Wilson in Muskogee to name just a few. Paul was in Muskogee working in a battery salvage yard. I don’t think he cared very much for that particular line of work. Later on, he moved to California and went to work for a pizza place.

Davis-Monthan Air Force Base was selected as a storage site for decommissioned aircraft following the end of Word War 11. Tucson’s dry climate and alkali soil made it an ideal location for aircraft storage and preservation and continues as such today. Kaman’s H-43B type helicopter was being preserved and stored there.

The State of Washington was in the process of obtaining helicopters to fight forest fires. Upon learning that the U.S. General Services Administration (GSA) would soon make the HH-43 “Huskie” available for purchase through the Surplus Equipment Program, the Department of Natural Resources became interested in the Kaman Huskie since it was a powerful machine and appeared to have a good military record insofar as efficiency and maintenance were concerned.

I arrived in early July, met the crew from their base in Olympia, and we started inspecting helicopters trying to choose what we considered the picks of the litter. We de-preserved and made the helos ready for flight, and by the second week of July, seven HH-43’s were ferried from Arizona to Olympia, Washington.

The chief pilot for the Department and I flew the first plane ferried to Olympia. I got plenty of “stick time” on this trip while observing some of the most beautiful scenery imaginable. We flew at very low altitude, near tree top level, where one could observe the great trees of California and Washington. It was truly remarkable.

The pilot (I can’t recall his name) had a private plane in which he flew his wife, daughter, and me to an island off the coast of Canada for a weekend stay. He landed with no brakes on a grass strip at the resort we visited. I didn’t find out until he said, “before we leave, I’ve gotta fix those brakes”. Luckily for us the landing strip had ample room for us to coast to a stop. He went out of his way to make my visit to Olympia a pleasant experience by inviting me to dinner several times. I had forgotten about him and his wife until I started writing this abbreviated autobiography.

I received the following “atta boy” for my support in making the initial phase of the operation a success:

“The preparation of these machines for service required some expert advice. The Department was fortunate in acquiring the services of David Rush, a factory representative of Kaman Aerospace Corporation. Mr. Rush stayed in Olympia for several weeks and greatly facilitated what would have been a very difficult task of helicopter component checking for the Department. The planes were very well preserved, showing good care and maintenance in the military. Mr. Rush’s aid at this point and willingness to give our aircraft mechanics as much of his time as they requested, was extremely helpful.”

At the Plant

In August, I returned to the plant to wait for my next assignment. Steve and Nancy Milam, Harry and Peggy Dodd’s daughter, were living in Springfield, MA, and they invited me to stay with them. I readily accepted. They were extremely gracious hosts.

Back to Patuxent River

In September, I received my new assignment to Patuxent River. While at the plant and shortly before leaving for Patuxent River, I purchased a Gremlin automobile. It was a canary yellow vehicle, which incidentally, I enjoyed very much. Juanita, Jeff, and Mark soon joined me. We found a house near Ridge, MD at a place called Cornfield Harbor. It was off the main road with only one other home was in the immediate vicinity. The house was located on the Potomac River near where it dumped into the Chesapeake Bay. We were blessed with a pier that jutted out into the river. Juanita would take her coffee to the bench-type seat at the end of the pier and enjoy nature at its best, in the mornings watching the sun rise over the river and in the evenings watching the sun go down. It was a great place for fishing; all we had to do was walk about 25 or 30 yards. We also set out crab pots at the end of the pier. Whenever we wanted crab cakes, all we had to do was walk out on the pier and pull up the cages. These contraptions were wire cages that the crabs could crawl into but not be able to get out. Juanita became somewhat of expert in the fine art of making deviled crab – being taught by the natives of Ridge, St. Mary’s County.

I took up flying again and managed to accumulate some quality flight time. In November of 1975, I rented a Cessna 150 over the thanksgiving holidays and flew to Owensboro, Kentucky to visit my parents. It was an exciting flight. On the outward leg and somewhere over Virginia, I saw an ominous looking black cloud approaching from the west, so I decided I had better land and secure the aircraft. I located and landed at an airport with a grass airstrip, but no other facilities. Someone at the airport offered me a ride to a small town where I was able to purchase some rope to tie down the plane. I stayed over night at a motel and departed for points westward toward Kentucky.

Soon after arriving in Owensboro, a front moved in dumping a goodly amount of rain that later turned to ice. This delayed my return to Maryland for a few days. It cleared, or so I thought, enough for me to fly back. Well, not very far out of Owensboro, the ceiling started to drop. Foolishly, I kept flying eastward, all the while flying lower and lower to avoid the decreasing ceiling. All of sudden, popping up out the low clouds, was a radio tower with its supporting guide wires. I immediately initiated a severe right turn while gaining altitude toward a hole in the ceiling. When I burst through the cloud cover, I witnessed the most beautiful sight imaginable – bright sunshine. It took a few miles before I could collect myself enough to locate where I was and plot a new course home.

The saga didn’t end with this incident, however. While flying over Virginia, I developed engine problems-rough running-and declared an emergency. I was directed to a small airport that was equipped with a crash truck. I made my landing and was accompanied by the fire truck to the aircraft-parking ramp. After a mechanic checked the engine over, and performed a ground check, he determined that I had experienced carburetor icing. I finally arrived at St Mary’s County airport without any additional problems.

While on the subject of airplanes, Jeff took flying lessons at St Mary’s airport when he was only 15 and soloed at 16 – the minimum age to solo. It is rather unnerving to watch your son fly an airplane by himself for the first time. I must have lost ten pounds during the short time he was airborne.

Harry and Peggy paid us a visit that summer after having been to Massachusetts to visit Steve and Nancy. Juanita had written a letter to them giving instructions on how to get to where we lived. They found our house without any problem using the directions Juanita had given them. They surprised us when they walked in the back door at night. It was fortunate that they had the right house. We had a pleasant visit with them.

Our stay in Southern Maryland came to an abrupt end and when my contract expired. Juanita, Jeff, and Mark left once again for Oklahoma. I returned to the plant only to find out that there were no assignments available at that time. Because of this, I was laid off for about three weeks until an assignment in Mayport, FL (near Jacksonville) opened up. I drove back to Oklahoma and for the first time in my life went on the “dole”. I felt somewhat ashamed having to go to the unemployment office to collect the money but felt justified because it counted against Kaman’s record and the state of Oklahoma did not pay.

Off to Jacksonville, FL

I loaded up the Gremlin and headed off to Florida for duty with HSL-34, a Navy Helicopter squadron. I rented an apartment in the outskirts of Jacksonville. There were four Kaman Representative assigned to HSL-34.

I was never satisfied with the arrangements of this tour of duty without my family and that dissatisfaction resulted in me resigning my position in January 1976. This ended my career with Kaman. I returned to Oklahoma, with no idea of what the future would bring. This was a start of new adventure for my family and me.

Life after Kaman

Upon returning to Muskogee after resigning from Kaman Aerospace Corporation in January 1976, I spent a couple of weeks just lying around the house and not actively seeking employment. Finally, Juanita suggested that maybe it would be appropriate for me to start looking for work.

I started in earnest looking for work the middle of February by sending out my resume in reply to advertisements in the local papers. Not receiving any positive encouragement, I decided it was time to learn how to look for a job. I soon realized that I didn’t know how to look for employment effectively. I was fortunate in that Kaman offered me a position while I was still in the Navy; therefore, I never experienced the frustrations of job hunting except for the brief period when we lived in Connecticut. Kaman had been my first real exposure to working for a civilian company.

I took advantage of the local library and checked out a few books on job seeking. One book in particular caught my interest. It offered a rather simple plan. First, you must find someone who could give you the names of a few local business people. I contacted Marvin Greer, a real estate agent from whom we had rented the house we were living in, and he gave me the name of a local contact.

The first step in this particular method of job hunting was to obtain the name of a contact and then write a letter asking for an appointment to evaluate the local job market. Then, during the interview, obtain the name of someone else who could be helpful. The second step of this method instructed you to telephone that person and make an appointment. The third step was to make sure you never asked the person directly for a job but just their advice on potential employment. The fourth step was to make sure you sent the person a follow up letter thanking him for taking the time to visit with you.

My first contact was with Ramon Robertson, Oklahoma Gas, and Electrical Company. The meeting was very fruitful in that he gave me a list of three people to contact. The first person I made contact with was Charles Ross of Coburn Optical Industries. He was not very receptive and suggested I see Eddie Jeffries, Personal Director, who in turn referred me to Brian Barnes, Sales Manger. After meeting with Brian, he set up an interview with Dr. John Coburn, Vice President of Sales. He was a typical salesman because all he did was sell the virtues of the company. He set up another appointment with a representative from Revlon, the company that owned Coburn. His assignment at Coburn was more or less to oversee the operation and to represent Revlon’s interest. This in turn led to an appointment with Jim Coburn who actually ran the company. Jim and I seem to hit it off and as a result, he offered me a job.
The company had been discussing the establishment of a position, Product Manager, for consumables used in the manufacturing of prescription lenses. They were looking for new blood to fill the position, someone with no optical experience. I certainly filled that requirement. The plan was for me to work in several different departments to learn the business from the ground up. My first assignment was in the purchasing department working for Gene Roberts, the purchasing agent, in order to gain experience. The buyers worked closely with production, scheduling and quality assurance departments. As an example of the diversity required, I took a trip back east to visit a few of our high volume suppliers with the intent of gaining a 2% discount for paying within 30 days of the purchase. The advantage for Coburn was improved delivery time plus a 2% savings on purchases. Before I approached our suppliers, I gave a preliminary pitch to our sister company in Virginia which manufactured plastic lens. Tom Coburn, now the US Senator from Oklahoma, headed up the operation. Tom had a degree in finance and to me, a high school drop out, was intimidating but he soon realized the advantages of the program.

Later on Tom went to back to school and became a doctor with a practice in Muskogee. After I retired from Coburn, I worked for the Coburn campaign in all three of his runs for the US House of Representative.

I made several trips to establish a rapport with our suppliers. This had a side benefit for me as well. The Norton Company arranged a trip for Jim Coburn, his wife Cindy, Mike Stewart, and me to go to Indianapolis to watch the Indy 500 race. We traveled by bus from the hotel to the track with other customers of Norton to avoid the heavy traffic. Bob Bluett, Norton sales representative, managed to obtain a “pit pass” where the cars and drivers were located before the race. About five of us took advantage of the lack of security by Bob going in first and then handing the pit pass through the fence. This operation continued till all five of us were in the pit. There is something special about the Indy 500. I recall that when the announcer said, “gentlemen start your engines”, the hairs on my arms stood straight up and a slight chill went up my spine. The hotel where we stayed fixed box lunches which we ate while watching the race. I must add, a good time was had by all.

Formal Education

• • Tompkinsville Grade School, Tompkinsville, KY : September 1937 – May 1945
  • Tompkinsville High School, Tompkinsville, KY: September 1945 – February 1947
  • Calhoun High, Calhoun, KY: February 1947 – October 1947
  • Tompkinsville High School, Tompkinsville, KY: October 1947 – November 1947

A Brief Summary of my Naval Career

• • Enlisted
    • March 1, 1948 at Bowling Green, KY
  • Assignments
    • USNTC Great Lakes, IL – March to June 1948
    • NAAS Saufley Field, Pensacola, FL – June 1948 to December 1949
    • NAS Corpus Christi, Texas – December 1949 to December 1951
    • VF-871 NAS North Island, San Diego, CA – January 1951 to April 1953
    • Deployed on USS Essex – CV- 9
    • TAD NATC Memphis, TN – April 1953 to November 1953
    • VF 123 NAS Mirmar San Diego, CA – November 1953 to March 1954
    • Deployed on USS Essex – CV- 9
    • NATC Patuxent River, MD – May 1954 to March 1957
  • Promotions
    • SA – May 22, 1948
    • AA – December 1, 1948
    • AN – January 16, 1949
    • AD3 – August 16, 1949
    • AD2 – October 16, 1952
    • AD1 – Apr 16, 1956
  • Schools
    • AD “B” School at NATC Memphis, TN -April 27 to 6 November 1953
    • Allison T-40 Jet Engine School Indianapolis, IN – July 1954
    • OK-1 Helicopter Maintenance at Kaman Aircraft Corporation in Bloomfield, CN-January 1955
    • HR2S Helicopter School at Sikorsky Aircraft Corporation in Bridgeport, CN, December 1955
    • CT58-100 Helicopter Engine School at General Electrical – March 1961
  • Decorations
    • Good Conduct Metal (2nd Award) Korean Presidential Unit Citation
    • United Nations Service Medal
    • China Service Ribbon
    • National Defense Ribbon
    • PVC USS Essex
    • Korean Service Medal

The last part my life is in the works and will be published soon.

Editor’s Note:

My father passed away February 19, 2005 and thus did not get to complete this autobiography. I do think the important points were touched on, though. I had hoped that he would draw some conclusions and lessons from this long and rich life, but the reader will have to draw their own.

For my own part, I will remember him living life to his fullest ability until his last day. He never sat down and felt sorry for himself for too long. He continued to tackle projects, to try to learn new things, to explore the world around him until his last hours.