The Russian River, Alaska

Here I am, stationed at one of the most beautiful places on earth, Anchorage, Alaska. With all this beauty comes abundant wildlife included game animals and fish...monster King, Pink or Cohoe Salmon.

In the summer of 1980, during the salmon run on the Russian River on the Kenai Peninsula, I was invited to go fishing for pink salmon. I rented a fishing pole from the base Recreation Center and the next day awoke early to load up my friends old Bronco with gear and other friends.

I sat down in the truck and heard a snap! Oh crap! I sat on my fishing pole and broke it! What the heck, I'll go anyway. It should be fun.

The trip was many hours to get there and my friend who was driving was very tired and gave us one scary ride because we had to wake him a number of times as he drove around bends over looking cliffs. Finally we made safely.

We all got out, the others unloaded their gear and went fishing. Me, I walked the bank and watched everyone else fish included the dozens of others there. This was called Combat Fishing because everyone was so close to each other on the banks that lines would get crossed and tempers would flare and most guys out there were armed for bear, literally.

So I walked and watched all day. Later in the day I was talking to my best friend Fred. He said he was about five yards behind me as I was walking and he watched fisherman watch me. The fisherman thought I was with Alaska Fish and Game and was there to monitor the fishing. Evidently as I approached fisherman the ones who snagged fish, which is illegal, threw them back into the Russian. I thought that was funny and wished I had known about that earlier because I would had a lot of fun with it.

Nike Hercules nuclear warheads

In 1979 I arrived at my first duty station at Elmendorf  AFB, Alaska in July fresh out of Adair Force basic training and the Security Police Academy. Just a short time later, the month eludes me, I was on the runway with every available Security Policeman to help secure the runway because the Nukes in the Chugach Mountains over looking Anchorage were being decommishined and being transported out right in front of me.

This is piece of an article I found about this.

With each Alaskan firing battery armed with 14 NIKE HERCULES missiles carrying a nuclear warhead with a yield ranging from 20 kilotons to 40 kilotons, the total nuclear yield of the Alaska air defense missile sites was more than 5 meta-tons of nuclear destruction.

The Anchorage sites were deactivated and closed in 1979, with the missiles, warheads, and equipment transferred to the lower 48.  Several buildings at Site Point were converted to a ski chalet facility.  Site Bay was used for prisoner housing and later demolished.  Site Summit was the last site deactivated and closed in July of 1979.  The remnants of Site Summit exist today and restoration of the site began in 2010.  The site is being preserved as a National Historic Site and once restored plans include a museum to be established and possibly guided tours to be given.
http://nikemissile.org/ColdWar/AlaskaColdWar/alaska_cold_war.shtml

What a way to start off my Air Force career field-helping to protect the most destructive device ever devised by man.

Tach

"Cee Ssss Cee, this is sextee. We are pullin ober a tuck for kossing ober da yeddow wine."

Tach is short for an unnamed airman in the Air Force that I was stationed with at Elmendorf AFB in the early 1980's He was a strange kid who grew up on Oahu, Hawaii but had never been to the ocean. How is that even possible?

Tach slept in his uniform, only removing his hat and web belt. I was out of the dorm by then but many told me they were going to give Tach a shower themselves if he didn't do it soon. Why he choose the Security Police field I don't know. He couldn't blame it on the draft because the draft had ended years before.

One other thing-I became his Fire Team Leader. Great! Just Great.

As a Fire Team Leader I had four guys under me. I was responsible for their on the job training after they arrived to Elmendorf AFB. This part I didn't mind because I was always willing to play and with this role I could make others play with me.

"Cee Ssss Cee, this is sextee. We are pullin ober a tuck for kossing ober da yeddow wine." Tach said into the radio. Yes, he had a lisp. (Translation- CSC. This is sixty. We are pulling over a truck for crossing the yellow line.) I was the leader on this two man team covering the main side of base with Tach as my member.

The truck we pulled over was near the hanger housing F-4 fighters. He was driving on the flight line and crossed the yellow line that was suppose to stop people from going any further. Once that line is crossed you belong to us. You're getting jacked-up (pulled over and placed against the truck to be searched and arrested).

I pulled him over on the road next to the flight line and ordered him to the front of the truck. I told Tach to stand to my right about eight feet from the man. Tach didn't move. I repeated my request to Tach. Again, he didn't budge. "Tach! Move over there!" Motioning swiftly with my hand. He finally reluntantly complied.

I search the man and cuffed him and then waited for transport to take him to the station for processing. After everyone were gone I called Tach over and said, "What the hell was that about? Why didn't you go where I told you to?" He said "I bidn't want to get inpo a cossfire." "What? A cross fire! We were close enough to beat him with the butts of our rifles. I wanted you there I case he bolted." I said firmly.

He looked down at his feet as if the answer to this dilemma was written on his boots.
I marked this up as a learning experience for Tach.

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"Stop it! I hate it when you do that!


We had a certain amount of posts to fill each night so if we were over maned you would be placed on stand-by. If the night remained quiet you would often be released and allowed to go home.

I liked stand-by. Not because I got to go home but because that meant I was going out to play. Out to play meant to harass, ah, train, other Security Policeman. Training usually entaled me trying to sneak into their area without being seen. I was very good at that.

This particular dayTach was posted on the east side near the F-4 hangers. He always parked in the middle of the flight line so he had a lot of distance between him and anybody who may try to get to him. He, he.  He had me as a Fire Team Leader.

I parked unseen and got out of my truck. I made my way across the flight line without being seen by Tach. I snuck around the front of his truck as low as I could. I made it to his door and slowly got onto my feet, squatted and was ready to leap at my prey.

I then stood very fast and yelled "Tach!" His head about hit the roof of his truck with his fright and he said "Stop it! I hate it when you do that! I said "Tach, I'm your Fire Team Leader. One of my jobs is to train you and this is what I'm doing." He remained quiet but I could see he was still pissed.

I walked away knowing my job was done...for the moment anyway.

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You need to blow into the mic to clear the water off.

Tach was at a post that we not always had. I can't really remember why we were posted there. Old age I guess. It was next to the runway and with myself and my friend Fred being together it was a bad combination because we liked to give people a hard time.

We called Tach on the radio. "Tach, you need to turn on the runway lights for the B.1.R.D. And G.U.1.1." (Bird and Gull) He came back, "Quare are day?" We explained how to find them sending him on a wild goose chase. "Disregard Tach."

Later that night we called Tach on the radio again. Tach. We are having problems with water on the airwaves. You need to blow into the mic to clear the water off.

" "Phew. Phew." Tach blew into the mic. "Thanks Tach."

Now we didn't always just pick on Tach. We were an equal opportunity harassers.