Streaking

"Even at six a dare is a serious thing that is not to be taken lightly. You can’t back out of a dare- the completion of a dare is one of the steps to manhood."

“…and they called it the streak”

Ray Stevens made the, “Streak” a hit in 1974. I practiced years before as a small kid in Illinois. I was about six at the time. We lived in the village of Winthrop harbor, Il. My best friends were Frankie and Johnny who were about two or three years older than me.

We would often play in the fields and woods that were close to our homes. In the sixties we didn’t worry about being a little kid and child molesters that preyed upon them as we have now. At least I never had this problem.

On this particular adventure I was part of a dare. Even at six a dare is a serious thing that is not to be taken lightly. You can’t back out of a dare- the completion of a dare is one of the steps to manhood. Even at six I understood this.

This was the dare. Take off our clothes and run around the bushes. So as any boy who wants to become a man does- I took off my clothes. Frankie also did the same but Johnny didn’t. He had other plans. He grabbed all our clothes and ran.

I thought life would end then and there. I could not go home naked and I could not catch Johnny. So I did what any six-year-old kid would do in this situation. I balled my eyes out screaming at Johnny to give my clothes back. Luckily he complied and I got dressed without the humiliation of going home naked.

This was one of many such adventures with Frankie and Johnny. They were not a good influence on me needless to say so moving to Iowa when I was eight was a good thing.

Coke Bomb

“I’ve found what appears to be a bomb connected to one of the silos.”

“81 Bravo to 81 Alpha”.

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve found what appears to be a bomb connected to one of the silos.”

This communication started an event that is still very fresh in my mind. I was the leader of the patrol on that side of base that night. I was an Air Force Security Policeman stationed at Elmendorf AFB, Anchorage, Alaska. The year was 1981.

The area we were responding to was a very large antenna field that was used to listen to the Soviet Union. I knew the area well because that was my first duty station before the 6981^st and 21^st Security Police combined.

I raced to the compound with my partner hanging on tight. We drove to the guard shack that sat in the middle of the very large antennae field. The SP that manned the guard shack was talking to CSC (Central Security Control). He took me to the silo that had a suspicious object attached to it.

What I saw was a Coke can with wires coming from inside the can going to the silo. I doubted that such a small explosive device could take down the silo but I wasn’t taken any chances. I returned to the guard shack to call CSC taken the proper safety precautions with radio discipline. Being too close to a bomb while talking on a radio may set it off. I described what I saw to CSC, this set the ball in motion.

The Base Commander, Security Police Commander and EOD (Explosives Device Disposal) all responded. I stood back a safe distance while EOD inspected the suspect device. I was rather taken aback by the lack of concern by the two commanders as EOD worked. They were practically on the guys back peering over his shoulder. If it was a bomb and it exploded we would have been minus two commanders. The SP commander would not have been a great lose though. He was a jerk.

EOD disarmed the harmless Coke can and I headed back to the guard shack that Blade B occupied. Blade (Yes, his real name) seemed a little nervous. Not the kind of nervousness you may have in a situation like this though. I suspected what turned out to be the truth. He planted the Coke can and wired it up. He was an idiot.

They ended up tracing some papers inside the can to Blade. Blade then got a new duty station in beautiful Kansas- Leavenworth, United States Disciplinary Barracks. He was sentenced to six months hard labor and a dishonorable discharge.

Cancer Stick

“Ya, I turned over and satisfied my wife last night.”

Cancer Stick is a nickname we gave a SSGT in the Air Force. He always had a cigarette in his left hand and a Coke in his right. He was about 5’ 10” and maybe 130 pounds. He reminded me of those photos’ I had seen of WWII prisoner of war with their sunken chest and bulging eyes. He was not very intimidating for a Security Policeman and he had longed to be a bricklayer of all trades. Maybe that trade would beef him up. He in fact did cross train into one of those fields. I never heard how he made out.

Cancer Stick was not an attractive fellow and his wife, whom was equally unattractive, was a perfect match for him. (I hope the never produced kids-yikes) She too was sickly thin and it seems that they were both beat repeatedly and severally with an ugly stick.

My friend Fred Black and I use to get him to talk about his sex life. One time we were driving to another post with the three of us up front on the truck bench seat. I can still see the area of the base where we were driving as if it just happened two days before the day after tomorrow. We kept jeering him on and it didn’t take much to get him talking. What he was not aware of was the fact that I was holding the talk button down on my radio so that the whole flight could hear our conversation.

“Ya, I turned over and satisfied my wife last night.” He would boast. We would laugh and ask him what else he did. With his chest puffed out, he would brag about his sexual adventures with his wife. I’m happy he had a good sex life but the mental image I was getting in my head of them two doing the nasty was nauseating.

Sadly, the drive was short and we had to depart ways but we sure had a great laugh over it. I don’t think he ever knew that we did that-and more than once.

The Owl

"...must have been seven feet tall with long, sharp talons that would rip my chest apart and eat my beating heart..."

Life in Iowa was pretty good. I lived in many cities in Iowa and always seemed to find the wooded areas in which I would explore. I loved to be out on adventures, usually by myself, sometimes with a friend or my brother Brad. The woods were like home to me. It bought a peace to me that I would often just sit, listen and observe God’s creation.

One Saturday I went exploring again. The wooded area I went to was very large with many hundred acres. This is where I would hunt squirrels or set traps for what ever I could trap. On this day I went much further than usual and got lost in my adventure, paying no attention to the time. The deep woods hid the dimming sunlight so telling time by the sun was difficult.

As I explored I finally decided to check my watch. Yikes! It was getting late and I didn’t know this area well enough to get home in the dark and I was not too excited about spending the night here. My mom would kill me. So off I went, back to base camp, which was my bedroom of course.

Well, here lies the problem- I was lost. Double Yikes! I continued to walk only to walk in circles. As I walked I began to hear things, strange things that made strange noises. Noises that cause a young teenager to get a bit scared. I would see movement in my peripheral vision. Triple Yikes! Big foot!? Boggy man!?

I then saw the source of the weird noise and movement-a very big owl. This thing must have been seven feet tall with long, sharp talons that would rip my chest apart and eat my beating heart.…okay, maybe not that tall but it was a good eighteen inches. I guess I wasn’t that scared but these kinds of thoughts enter the mind of a teenager with a very active imagination.

Then the sensible part of me kicked in. “Stop, and think.” I thought to myself. It didn’t take me long to figure out how to get out of this ever frightening situation. “Follow the river.” I thought. Duh, of course. The Iowa River ran down from where I lived. If I would find the river and follow it up I would get back home and maybe in time to see Laugh In.

So that is what I did. I found the river and set forth to find my base camp. It wasn’t long before I started to recognize things. Different area’s I explored, trees I climbed and mud holes I jumped in. Then sure enough, home sweet home.

I open the back door and my mom just happened to be by the door as I walked in. “Hi mom.” I said as I passed her by as if nothing had happened. She then spoke up and said. “Are you hungry? Dinner is almost ready.”

My mom never did know about this particular adventure. I thought I would save that story for a time when I was grown up and would not get that…speech. I don’t think I ever told her. Probably better that way.

Where’s my son?

"Your stomach aches with pain, your heart is tacacardic, blood pressure rises and sweat is fast soaking your clothes."

We lived in Hawaii, on the island of Oahu. My wife was stationed at Scholfield Barracks Army post in Wahiawa, Hawaii. The year was probably around 1985 and it was a little before Christy was born with Chris being a toddler.

Chris and I use to go for a walk around the block, he riding tall and proud on his tricycle, me walking behind him to make sure he stayed on course. We both loved these walks and looked forward to them.

One day I was busy with something and I guess Chris got a little impatient with me and wanted to go on his bike ride and he was not going to wait. So off he went, without me or anyone else to watch him. A few minutes later I notice he was missing. I looked around, concerned but not with any panic. He was probably hiding from me I thought. The more I looked the more panic rose in my inner being. He was nowhere to be found.

There is no feeling like that of not knowing where your kid(s) may be. Your stomach aches with pain, your heart is tacacardic, blood pressure rises and sweat is fast soaking your clothes. Panic had set in as I ran outside to search, tears wealing up in my eyes. This kid is God’s gift to me and there is no way I am going to lose him.

I look out front- no Chris. Out back- still no Chris. I check the playground- again, no Chris. Tears are now running down my checks. I hear someone yell something. Are they talking to me I ask myself, listening more intently. “Are you looking for your son?” they ask. “YES!” “He’s over here riding in the middle of the road, just riding in circles and crying.” Thank God!

I run over, probably smashing my 100-yard dash personal best time, elated and angry at Chris for taking off like that. I carry him back to the house, Chris in my right arm on my hip carrying his tricycle in my left hand. After he and I calm down we have that talk, “Chris, don’t ever ride off by yourself again. Okay?” “ Okay.” He says. Then with a kiss and a hug he is off for another adventure in the house.

My Ex Wife

“Sorry sis- I didn’t mean to get you pregnant.”

Before you think this is a tell all, trash my ex story, then you will be sadly disappointed. This story is dirt free. I have been over the hurt of our divorce for many, many years and am very happily married and I hope she too has found happiness.

Some of my happiness during my marriage to my first wife was some of the things I did to her- in a funny (to me) way. This will be a number of short, short stories that talk about many of the things that happened during the fourteen years we were married. I may throw in a few things that were not pranks on her.

Are you related?

“Are you brother and sister or man and wife?” the woman asked at the airplane check in waiting area. She said that she and a few co-workers had a bet on whether we were brother and sister or man and wife. I guess we either looked related or they thought we were from Arkansas. We laughed it off and continued on our trip.

I had remembered this incident a year later and used it to my advantage. Sue was about eight months pregnant with our son Chris. We were shopping at JC Penney’s in Anchorage, Alaska were we lived. We entered a crowded elevator and pushed the button for our selected floor. This is when I said out loud, “Sorry sis- I didn’t mean to get you pregnant.”

For some weird reason, Sue did not find the humor in that. Evil death rays shot out her eyes and I swear I was temporary blinded for a few seconds. Frankly, I don’t remember if she said anything to me about it but I’m sure I had a good talking to.

9-volt batteries

Did you know that to test 9-volt batteries you could lick the two terminals on the end and feel the amount of charge it had in them? I knew that- Sue did not. He, he. I took a fresh, never used, 9-volt battery and showed her how to do it, sticking it to my tongue and of course not showing any emotion as I got a slight zap of dc voltage. Sue then took the battery and did the same thing.

I still can see the look in her eyes and terror in her face when she got the unexpected jolt of electricity in her tongue. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. I also hadn’t heard that language that was coming from her lips from her very often. I didn’t even know she served in the Navy.

.44 Magnum

“I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?” Dirty Harry

I had a Ruger Super Blackhawk pistol when we lived in Alaska. The Super Blackhawk is a single action, .44 magnum handgun. I carried it when backpacking in the wild Alaska wilderness.

A .44 magnum can give of a hefty kick especially with the stock grips that I had on it. I shot a few rounds at the range with Sue watching intently. Boom! Another 240-grain bullet headed down range at around 1,500 feet per second. Bull’s eye! I asked Sue, “You wanna try it?” “Sure.” She said.

I handed her the pistol and stood behind her in case she had any questions for me. Click, she pulled back the hammer. Aim. Fire! Ka Boom! The bullet flashed out of the barrel. The gun moved in a very quick and upward motion rocking Sue on to her heals throwing her body off balance. The handgun barely missing her face as it flew suddenly upwards.

As I said, I was behind her. Good thing too because she may have ended up on her butt. This was the first time she shot my .44 magnum. This was also the last time she shot my .44 magnum. The next day she had a large bruise on the palm of her right hand where the pistol had jammed violently back into her palm.

Butt sledding

Butt sledding is just as it seems. You slid on your butt instead of a sled. We had hiked to the mountain right before Flat Top mountain outside of Anchorage. Flat Top was about 3,200 feet and a good climb. Sue didn’t want to go all the way up so we stayed on the other smaller one. It was spring and snow was still all around us. We hiked up a little bit when I decided to slide down on my feet. It was great!

I did that a few times on my feet and my butt but Sue didn’t want to try it. She was a little scared about it. Finally, she said she would. I went first. Weeeeeeee! She followed me. Yahhh! Ahhh! I turned to watch her thinking the noise emitting from her mouth was screams of joy. I was wrong-She was terrified.

The look on her face explained it all. She was not having fun and could not stop. She was panicking! I think she was on the verge of crying. When she finally stopped and I walked up to her to consol her she said, “Let’s do that again!” We did. Many times.

Reading Moose

It was a Saturday and I was posted at the WSA again on Elmendorf AFB. I had got into novels by this time because of all the free time I had and Sue was also a heavy reader. On this day Sue came out to see me. Of course, she was not authorized to be out there with me so she snuck in the back way, driving my Fiat 128 (missing 2^nd gear) as if it were a 4-wheel drive.

I picked her up and we drove to an open field were we proceeded to bury our face into some good books. Evidently, we got pretty engrossed into the books because at one point I looked up and a moose was staring right at me, its nose about two inches from my wind shield. We looked out the other windows and saw a few more moose just hanging around not seeming to pay us much attention.

So what would any person do in a situation like this? Dive back into our books of course.

The Grease Barrel Bear

" We each had an M-16 with thirty round magazines locked and loaded..."

Alaska-1981-Elmendorf AFB

The in-flight kitchen on Elmendorf AFB in Anchorage, Alaska made box lunches, otherwise known as box nasties, for flight crews. It usually had chicken and other toxic eatables.

Outside the door to the in-flight kitchen was a grease barrel that old grease from the fryers was put in. It sat right next to the drive out of the kitchen. It was like a KFC for black bears. They loved to lean into it and grab what ever morsel they could get.

As a young Fire Team Leader I was often bored and tended to do things that I should not do. On this day, we decided to sit next to the grease barrel in our military pickup that doubled as our squad car.

As we sat there a good size black bear sauntered over and started to get his snack. It was cool seeing it that close. My passenger was the closest since he was right next to the barrel.

As the bear feed he decided to explore for more food. He came over to the truck and put his nose into the cab of the truck. Of course we had the windows down. As our sphincter muscles tightened we watched, hoping it would not smell any yumminess in the truck.

We could smell its breath and feel its breathing as it sniffed around. We each had an M-16 with thirty round magazines locked and loaded but they were tucked neatly under our seats and the dang bear was to close anyway if we needed to defend ourselves. We would need a bayonet which we didn’t have.

Eventually the bear decided that there was no goodies to munch in our truck and went on his way. Wow! We should not do that again for sure...though we tried.

UCMJ Article 15

"With boredom comes stupidity, especially when you are a young twenty-two year old Airman 1st Class."

About 1980

An Article 15 in the military can be a harsh punishment for bad deeds done. It may result in loss of wages, rank and maybe jail time. Well luckily, I avoided the Article 15 because I was never caught for the stupidity I did which I’m about to reveal.

I was a United States Air Force Security Policeman stationed at Elmendorf AFB, Alaska. This was the early 1980’s during the cold war with the Soviet Union being our closet neighbor beside Canada. This particular afternoon I was assigned to guard the Weapons Storage Area (WSA). It was actually a good assignment because it was remote and you rarely got bothered by people, ie. supervisor. Of course, moose and bear are a different story- which I will tell at a later time.

You had the beautiful Alaskan country side all around you with the Cook Inlet to the west. Thousands of trees full of wild life with the smell and noise of a forest. It was rather peaceful out there and a good place to gather your thoughts.

But, I was bored- very bored. With boredom comes stupidity, especially when you are a young twenty-two year old Airman 1st Class. The WSA was a large area with miles of roads that went in circles around the area. As I drove I day dreamed. As I day dreamed I schemed. As I schemed, I acted.

This was my idea. I was driving a pick up truck which could easily idol at about ten to fifteen miles per hour. I thought, “Wouldn’t it be cool to drive while laying on top of the truck and then get back in through the passenger window”. Well, it sounded cool at the time.

So at idol speed, I climbed out the drivers window and got on top of the truck. I laid on top for a long time steering the truck with my left hand around curves and up and down hills. It was fun for a while but I thought I should end this. I got on a straight away and straightened the truck out, scrambled to the passenger side and climbed through the window.

Yahoo! That was cool! I think I’ll do it again. Well... never tempt fate. This time it didn’t go so smooth and I ended up running beside my truck trying to keep it out of the ditch as I’m half way in the ditch. Dirt and grass is flying all around me kicked up by the wheels of the truck and my scrambling feet. My heart is tacacardic and my legs are spinning like Jesse Owens. I managed to steer the truck back on to the gravel road and open the door to jump back inside, save the truck from getting stuck or worse, tipping.

Oh, the stupidity of youth. Thing is, evidently I was not the last to try this because another airman tipped a jeep later that year in the same area. What an idiot.