I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.
CHAPTER TEN
The
Casual Barracks had open bays on each floor. The bays were divided into
cubicles, each of which contained two bunk beds. I was in a top bunk which came
almost to the top of the cubicle partition. It had been a long time since I had
been in an open bay. I felt uneasy, maybe it was part of the fear that I was
feeling. It was three or four hours each night before I could fall asleep.
The
Casual Barracks was the “labor pool” for any details on base. There were all
kinds of reasons that a person might be on casual status. When a sergeant came
looking for a group of men for a detail, they tried to avoid choosing the men who
had just come in from a remote site. However, they could not do so overtly
without getting in trouble themselves. Therefore, we had to “cooperate” by
making ourselves scarce.
That
was more difficult for me than for most of the men. I received a letter from
Lorraine with $3 and it was gone almost immediately. My shower clogs had
broken, I needed socks, I bought some cough drops, a pack of cigarettes, and a
cup of coffee. It was gone. Some of the guys make themselves scarce by going
into town. The bus used to be free. Now it is 50 cents each way.
The
Sunday after we arrived, I went to the evening service of a church just off
base. The pastor was Reverend Ivy. It was in a Quonset hut and was named “Lighthouse Mission.” I wrote:
“The
service was quite Pentecostal though more subdued than I expected. They prayed
twice and they pray like the people in the Free Methodist Church – all at once,
out loud. The preacher and another man played the guitar and a girl played a
kind of rinky-tink piano. I’m referring to the way she played – the piano was a
nice one. The minister didn’t feel he had a message, so he didn’t preach.”
Fifty
years later, in September 2010, Lorraine and I went to a church at that same
location. It is now a large church with three campuses. It is still
Pentecostal, but now its name is Muldoon Community Assembly of God.
The
next day, Monday, December 19, 1960, I requested and received a partial pay. It
was an advance on my pay for the first half of January 1961, $15. Because of my
allotments, my net pay was only $29/month. Since I was being transferred to Ft.
Meade, Maryland, I anticipated that my travel pay would be several hundred
dollars at least. I was hoping they would advance part of that to me so that I
could buy a plane ticket home. I wouldn’t find out until we processed out.
Processing would start Tuesday, December 27. Monday, December 26 was a holiday
since Christmas was on Sunday.
Processing
went by in a whirl. We were scheduled to fly from Anchorage to Seattle on the
evening of December 30, 1960. I thought that if everything went right I might
just be home the evening of our second wedding anniversary. Things didn’t go
all right. The weather grounded flights for the next several days. It was
January 2, 1961 before we flew out of Anchorage, Alaska.
When
we landed, the bus from McCord Air Force Base to Seattle-Tacoma Airport had
just left. There wouldn’t be another bus for several hours. Along with a lot of
others on the plane, I decided to take a “gypsy” cab to the airport. When the
driver led four of us out to his car, my chin dropped. It was a Ford Falcon! He
put one airman in the front seat and put a duffel bag at his feet and a
suitcase on his lap. He tied two or three duffel bags on the roof, filled the
trunk, put three of us in the back seat and put some bags in with us. He drove
like a maniac! He charged us each $5.
At
Seattle-Tacoma Airport I was able to get a ticket to Washington, D.C. I called
my parents and told them when I would be arriving that evening. When I arrived
at Lorraine’s parents’ house, I ran upstairs to embrace Lorraine and then I ran
up another flight of stairs to see Paul. CHAPTER E
When
I returned to Anchorage on my way home, there were fifteen days that I had to
wait before I departed for home. I inquired at a number of offices about the
people who had been relocated from Shemya. No one knew anything, and most
didn’t know who the people were. Finally, I found someone who knew what I was
talking about. I was directed to one of the security offices. One of the men
recognized me and knew that I had been helpful in ferreting out the various
Russian attempts to spy on Shemya.
“I’m
glad to see you Airman. I think you can be of help to us. We need a report on
how the Shemyites are doing. With most people I could send, there will be a
communication problem and a trust issue with the people. I am going to arrange
to have you assigned to us for five days, if you are willing that is. We will
take you out to where they are to have a short visit with them. When you
return, I want a complete report.”
“I’ll
be glad to go. However, I am broke. I couldn’t afford a bus or train ticket.”
“We
will take care of the expenses. You couldn’t get there by bus or train. Go back
to your barracks and pack enough clothes for several days. We will pick you up
at noon, so eat an early lunch.”
At
noon, they picked me up and took me to the airfield. There a small plane was
waiting and it took me to Bethel. From Bethel, a Federal Wildlife officer took
me by four-wheel drive pick-up truck to the village of Tuluksak. There was a
sort of trading post or general store constructed of logs with no name on the
outside of it. We ate our supper there. The ranger borrowed a snowmobile to
take me the rest of the way. He told the owner that he would be coming back and
would like a bed for the night.
That
meant the Shemyites did not live far from there and that I would be staying
several nights with them.
“I’m
going to drop you off. Then you will be on your own. I’ll give you all day
tomorrow. Then I’ll pick you up the following morning. Weather is unpredictable
in Alaska. If there is a snowstorm, just wait it out. I’ll return for you as
soon as I can.”
We
went through the woods on the snowmobile. It was freezing cold riding out in
the open. The cold wind felt like knives cutting into my face. Suddenly, we
were in an opening and I could see several dozen trailers, placed helter-skelter
in the clearing. I got off the snowmobile, shouldered my duffel bag and headed
for the nearest trailer. I heard the sound of the snowmobile trailing off in
the distance. “Then you will be on your own,” he had said.
At
the first trailer, I knocked. I thought my fingers would fall off - I was so
cold. A man came to the door. He looked suspiciously at me. He asked a one word
question in their language. I said, “Starshij or Tatyana?” Pointing his finger
at me, he said, with a questioning inflection, “Airman?” I said, “Yes. Da” He
pulled me up into the trailer. Seating me beside a pot-belly wood stove, he
said a lot that I couldn’t understand. Then he called for his wife and gave her
some commands. Soon I had a hot cup of chai in one hand and a thick piece of
Russian dark bread smeared with yogurt in the other hand.
Next,
he called the name “Igor” and a boy of about twelve appeared. I heard
“Starshij” and “Tatyana.” The boy pulled on a parka and gloves and went out the
door.
After
a while, an older man and Tatyana returned with Igor. I tried intently to calm
my mind so that Tatyana could communicate with me.
“The
Starshij you knew in the cave did not survive the attack on him by Ilya. He
died in the hospital after they flew him from Shemya to Anchorage.” Pointing to
the older man, she said, “This is Mixajl. He is now our Starshij. Why have you
come?”
“I
am on my way home after serving my year out on Shemya. I cannot leave until
December 30. The Air Force asked me to visit with you all and report to them
how you are doing and what you need for your transition to living here. They
know that I can communicate in a limited way with you and that your people know
they can trust me.”
Tatyana
interpreted my answer to Mixajl. He grunted.
“There
are Russians in this area whose ancestors came here over one hundred and fifty
years ago. There is an old Russian mission not far from here. We have an
affinity with them but few of them now speak Russian and we barely understand it
anyhow. We need to learn English and our children need to learn English.
“Our
men have to learn new skills in order to sustain our life here. The government
has given us food and money, but surely that will not continue for long. Also,
our men cannot have dignity if they are not supporting themselves and their
families. We need some native peoples to teach us how to hunt and fish. We need
for someone to show us how to farm and what crops and plants will grow well in
this area.”
“Those
are all reasonable requests and I will communicate them to the government
offices. With your Starshij’s permission, I would like for you to take me to as
many families as possible tomorrow and let them tell me what they need and how
they are adjusting to this move.
“If
you have not heard, Ilya and Gretchen blew up the cave. There is now a huge
crater on the tundra above where the great room of the cave was located. Then
the bodies of Ilya and Gretchen were found on the beach near the cave. They
both had been shot in the forehead. Later it was discovered that a civilian
contractor living on Shemya was a Russian spy. He had been their boss.”
Tatyana
relayed this information to the Starshij. They talked at length. Finally,
Tatyana said that I had his permission to visit other families. He said that
Tatyana must have her father’s permission to accompany me. Of course, if she
did not accompany me, I could not learn anything from the people I visited. The
Starshij also said that I could stay in his trailer for the two nights that I
would be there.
The
Starshij did not seem to be a pleasant person. When we reached their trailer,
he said some rough things to his wife. She looked older than him. She screwed
up her mouth and gave him a curt reply. She showed me into a small bedroom
which had no furniture. On the floor was a long burlap bag filled with straw or
pine needles. When she closed the door, it was pitch black inside the room. I
kept my clothes on and covered myself with my parka. I was not welcome in this
home!
The
next morning, I was awakened with some rough, derisive words. When I came out
of the room, the woman led me to the trailer’s bathroom. There was a basin of
cold water sitting on the sink. I relieved myself, washed my hands and face in
the cold water and then poured the wash water into the toilet bowl.
Breakfast
was a bowl of kasha and a cup of unsweetened chai.
Soon
after breakfast, Tatyana came to my rescue. We went to a half dozen trailers.
Then Tatyana took me to her family’s trailer for lunch. Her father and mother
were pleasant people and treated me as an honored guest. After lunch, we
visited another half dozen trailers. The last trailer we visited was that of
Tatyana’s uncle, aunt, and three young cousins. It was a happy family. They
were expecting us and the aunt had prepared a special dinner for us.
After
dinner, Tatyana’s parents and younger brother came over to visit. We all sat
around on the floor on cushions except the aunt, uncle, and Tatyana’s parents
who sat on the sofa and only chair in the living room. The aunt kept everyone’s
glass filled with hot sweetened chai. I was glad that I didn’t have to go back
to Mixajl and his wife until it was time to go to bed. When I returned to my room in their trailer I
could tell my duffel bag had been thoroughly searched. I was also glad that the
next morning, soon after a breakfast of kasha and unsweetened chai, the ranger
came for me.
I
took careful notes at every trailer we visited so that I could write a good
report when I returned.
“REPORT
ON A VISIT TO THE SHEMYITES -
On
December 20 – 22, 1960 I visited the community of relocated Shemyites near
Tuluksak, Alaska. These people, who formerly lived in a large cave on the
Island of Shemya, Alaska were relocated to this place some months ago. They were
given FEMA trailers as dwellings and they have received enough food and money
from the government to sustain life.
I
spoke with their “Starshij” (elder, elected leader) on several occasions
through an interpreter, Tatyana. These people are descendants of Cossack
soldiers who fought with the White Army during the Russian Revolution. The
Bolshevik victory prevented their return to their native lands. They bought a
fishing vessel and set sail for Alaska as immigrants, as did many other
Russians at that time. Their ship was caught in a storm and wrecked on Shemya
Island. Many of them perished. The survivors discovered a large cave which was
heated by a large thermal pool. There they lived.
Their
language is a patois of Kazakh and Russian words. They were an insular
community and never learned English or any other modern language. They
understand each other, but not anyone else. When I first met them, they had an
interpreter, Gretchen, who knew English. She had not been born in the community
and, as it turned out, was a Russian spy.
They
developed into skilled craftsmen who made souvenir objects which they sold to
native Alaskans and Siberian natives who then resold them as “native crafts.”
They had an impressive workshop and design studio in the cave. They caught fish
and other seafood from the ocean and learned to garden in the tundra during the
brief Alaskan summer. They also bartered for food when they sold their crafts.
Now
they are in a totally foreign environment. Here is what they need in order to
successfully relocate to this new location.
1.
There is an urgent need by both the children and the adults to learn English.
The children cannot go to school without a basic knowledge of English. The
adults cannot learn to garden, to fish, to hunt, to begin to produce crafts
once more until they can communicate with persons outside their own community.
2.
The men need powerful rifles and training in how to use them. They never had
firearms on Shemya. Now they live in a wilderness where a brown bear or a moose
could devastate their community. A trailer is no protection against either one
of those animals. Also, they need to be taught how to hunt and trap animals for
food.
3.
Native Alaskans could teach them many things once they can communicate with
each other. The men are skilled craftsmen. The women are excellent
seamstresses. For almost a year they have not been able to use their skills.
I
recommend that the winter months be used to give both the adults and children
intensive instruction in basic English. This should be supplemented with films,
records of simple songs in which the words are distinctly pronounced and
accompanied with pictures.
Several
soldiers could give some of the men lessons in marksmanship, firearms safety
and maintenance. These soldiers should have experience working with people
whose language they can’t understand.
The
weather in the Tuluksak area is different than on Shemya. The people need to be
taught how to dress in order to survive in snow and ice and sub-zero weather
for months at a time.
These
are not difficult measures and these are good people who deserve our help after
being torn from a familiar home and being relocated in a strange environment.”
I
was thanked for my help and returned to my unit at Elmendorf. Christmas was
several days away. After Christmas, we began processing out on December 27,
1960. We were supposed to fly from Anchorage to McCord AFB near Seattle,
Washington on the evening of December 30, 1960. Bad weather cancelled all
flights out of Anchorage. It was January 2, 1961 before we were flown south to
McCord AFB, arriving in the very early hours of January 3. From there we took a
“gypsy” taxi cab to Seattle-Tacoma Airport. I was able to get a seat on a plane
to Washington (DC) National Airport and my parents met me there and drove me to
Baltimore.
I
had to report in to my new unit assignment at Fort Meade, Maryland before
January 12, 1961. That gave Lorraine and I about a week to find an apartment.
We searched the classified ads, drove to one apartment after another. Either
the apartment was too dirty to clean, or it was in a bad neighborhood, or the
rent was more than we could afford. We resigned ourselves to living in the home
of Lorraine’s parents, and continuing our search on the weekends. It is a good
thing we didn’t find an apartment.
I
reported in to my new unit on January 11, 1961. The First Sergeant met me as I
entered the Orderly Room.
“Well,
Airman, I see that you liked Alaska, and Alaska liked you.”
I
furrowed my brow.
“You
don’t know what I mean? You really haven’t a clue?”
“No,
First Sergeant.”
“Sit
down in that chair and read these orders.”
The
first set of orders promoted me to Staff Sergeant. That was two grades above
Airman Second Class. It also awarded me an Air Force Skill Category that I had
never heard of. This Category had a pay supplement for living in a high cost
duty zone.
The
second set of orders transferred me to detached duty under supervision of the
Department of the Interior in the Tuluksak, Alaska area. I was to report to the
Department of the Interior offices in Anchorage, Alaska no later than January
20, 1961. Transportation of dependents and household goods was authorized at
government expense.
The
First Sergeant said, “I have never seen the equal of either one of those
orders. You must have friends in high places.”
“Not
any that I know of, First Sergeant. I do have a good idea what they want me to
do. It is a wild story involving Cossack soldiers, modern-day cave-dwellers,
and Russian spies.”
“Sounds
like they are going to have you writing scripts for movies. Good luck to you.
It sounds like you have more good luck than most of us.”
“Thank
you, First Sergeant.”
I
was sure going to need good luck when I break the news to Lorraine and to her
parents!
There
were tears, then anger, then a day of sullen silence. In the end, Lorraine
realized that I had to obey military orders. A week from now I would be going
back to Alaska. Once I was there we would have to decide whether she would
remain in Baltimore and wait for me or whether she would join me in Alaska.
If
I had remained at Fort Meade, as I expected, I could have been separated from
the Air Force in September 1961 to go to seminary. Now that I was being
returned to overseas duty, arguably another remote site, I probably would have
to remain at least a year and maybe until my enlistment ends in September 1962.