#667: The biggest missile base in the world

After three years in the Air Force spent coloring forms with yellow & purple markers at the Army and Air Force Hometown News Service in San Antonio, I begged to get out so I could get a real AF base-newspaper job -- & in June of 1986 I was sent to Francis E. Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne, Wyoming -- at that time the biggest missile base in the world.
I was thrilled to be at a base where there was actually Something Happening. But as with several of my AF assignments, I couldn't really Talk about what was going on. Though the base controlled 200 ICBMs spread out over a 12,600-square-mile area covering southeastern Wyoming, northeastern Colorado & western Nebraska, we could neither confirm nor deny the presence of nuclear weapons in any particular location.
But everybody assumed those weren't just chewing-gum-warhead missiles sitting out there under the rolling hills of the Great Plains.
It took me awhile to find my footing. But soon I was writing & shooting photos for base-newspaper stories about security police patrolling isolated missile sites in the dead of winter as the gusty winds blew -60 degree wind-chill temps at them. We on the base newspaper (usually two staffers, rarely three) tried our best to write "mission feature" stories showing how each job on the base contributed to supporting the mission -- but it wasn't easy. There was so much we weren't allowed to talk about....
I finally got the chance to interview & hang-out with a missile launch crew while they were on-duty -- but it took a couple years of work & begging to do it, & I was only allowed to proceed after a reporter from the OMAHA WORLD-HERALD newspaper beat me to it. I tried to do a John McPhee/NEW YORKER-style atmosphere-piece on the crew & their surroundings....
...& naturally, after all that work & all that begging, I couldn't take all that I'd learned & turn it into a story of a reasonable size for a base newspaper. I was always too ambitious for my own good, back then. The story never got printed -- it was too freaking LONG, there was too much neat atmosphere & too many great quotes I wanted to cram in.
Months went by ... & finally I was told it would be better if I just gave up. I still have my 35 pages of notes. Not the last time I cracked under pressure....
One story I was proud of was when I got to be on the site when the last of the support crews "switched-on" the tenth Peacekeeper/MX missile, to reach what the AF called "initial operational capability" at the end of 1986. That story DID get printed, & helped win me an award. & eventually 50 of the 10-warhead Peacekeepers were deployed across the Wyoming plains.
But usually we on the base newspaper didn't get quite so up-close & personal with The Mission. We wrote about stuff that grabbed our attention -- folks from the base doing good & interesting volunteer work in the local community, interesting personalities, big base events, retirements, etc. I started reviewing strange music, movies & books.
After LOTS of encouragement, I started writing sports stories -- about a couple guys who ran in marathons, one AF doctor who competed in stair-climbing competitions & briefly got into the GUINNESS BOOK OF WORLD RECORDS (that story also made the front page of the local daily paper), the hilarious comedy of Youth T-Ball, & even the base's Chess Club.
& I found that writing sports gave me a freedom I usually didn't have in the rest of the paper -- the rest of the time we had to play it pretty straight.
But all the time I was looking for "light" stuff, more humor, because working at the world's biggest missile base was a serious business.
I wrote comedy pieces on Air Force Medals You Don't Want To Win, Fictional Air Force Bases You Wouldn't Want To Be Assigned To, & the comedy possibilities of Air Force jargon.
I even snuck through a piece about whether some of the older homes in Base Housing were haunted: Some of the houses dated back to the late 1890's when the base was a U.S. Army cavalry post. But it was a touchy subject, because the base commander wanted it known in no uncertain terms that he'd tolerate NO GHOSTS on base....
I tried to take stuff lightly, use the paper as a sort of escape from everyday AF grinds & demands.
& I had a great role-model to learn from -- an Air Force Technical Sergeant named Gary Pomeroy, who'd been Strategic Air Command's Journalist of the Year for three years in a row. Gary could write stuff that would make me cry from laughing so hard. But he was tough, he'd been around. Brutally realistic, he thought my laughing fits were silly & juvenile -- but he was a great writing coach ... if you could survive his critiques.
When I wasn't working on the base paper, I was writing at home. I still had dreams of being Stephen King when I grew up. The first draft of "On Tour With the Little Green Men" (which I posted here awhile back) came out during my three years at FEW. A 40-page science-fiction/music piece called "The Landscape Player" (probably too long to post here, though I think it's my best, most vivid piece of fiction ever) also came out while in Wyoming. Neither of them ever got published anywhere.
The wife & I loved Wyoming, & for the first time in years we weren't homesick for Idaho -- even when the snowdrifts piled up over the front door of our mobile home. I made the mistake of telling people I'd stay at FEW permanently, since few AF folks seemed to want to visit Wyoming -- they thought it was as brutal & boring as, say, North Dakota or Montana. Or South Korea. Or the Aleutian Islands. & they were wrong.
But saying I'd volunteer to stay was probably the kiss of death. At the end of 1989, the news came that I was "The Number One non-volunteer" in the AF's public affairs career field to be sent overseas. & there was a job waiting for me in Ankara, Turkey.
So in December 1989, that's where we went. At least I got to take my wife & my 2-year-old son. We were actually kind of excited about going. But it turned out to be two of the worst years of our lives....

#545: "The Good Life"

In the Summer of 1991, during what I thot were the 2 worst years of my life, while living in Turkey, just a month B4 my daughter was born, I was picked 2 help close down Hellenikon Air Base in Athens, Greece.
Tho I wasn't thrilled about going when my wife was 8 months pregnant, I had no choice. I took the trip 2 Athens as a sorta vacation -- a 3-week break from what had bn a very demanding 18 months in Turkey.
The folks at Hellenikon wanted a journalist 2 crank-out a coupla newsletters each week as the base slowly drew down, update folks on transfers & base facility-closings, & help out the 1-person base public affairs office in whatever way helped most. Looked EZ.
It wasn't. 1st I hadta GET there. Turkish Air Lines -- which everybody recommended I NOT take, due 2 their poor safety record -- were on strike at the time, bummer! So I ended up taking a bus 1/2way across Turkey from Ankara 2 Istanbul, then caught a Greek flight on 2 Athens. The buses were NICE, but with my 12 fluent words of Turkish, communicating wasn't real EZ. I had 2 memorize the Turkish word 4 "airport" & hope the taxi-drivers in Istanbul wouldn't gouge me 2 badly 1nce they realized I didn't know where I was going....
Made the connections somehow, & LOVED the plane flight over the Med 2 Athens. When we landed, I was struck blind -- EVERYTHING was painted a dazzling white, & the bright sun reflecting off the gorgeous Aegean Sea ... well, I can't describe it. The 1st thing I did was buy a pair of sunglasses so I could SEE.
Athens seemed HUGE, bigger than Ankara -- which had 4 million people. But it was like nite & day: Ankara was sprawling, endless, dirty, HOT in the summer, full of coal smoke in the winter -- generally hazy year-round.
Athens was like being in California only with Greek roadsigns -- there were palm trees! The Greeks thot Athens was polluted, but I thot it was GORGEOUS.
Only 1 problem: It was XPENSIVE. The 1 remaining hotel where American servicepeople were cleared 2 stay cost $50 per nite 4 a room that I swear was No Big Deal. Dinner in the dining room there reportedly cost the same amount. I never ate in the hotel.
A block down the street was the Aegean -- which I WAS able 2 stick my toes in a time or 2, but most of it was fenced-off from the public 4 the benefit of Rich Tourists. (That definitely didn't mean ME.)
Across from the waterfront was a rather nice, homey little taverna under the trees, where I learned that a decent dinner of a pork chop, green salad & room-temperature cola would cost me $7 per nite. I ate there a lot, & I liked the atmosphere -- down-home, definitely not flashy, informal. I didn't havta dress up. & they put up with the fact that I didn't know A WORD of Greek.
Next door was a newsstand with all the latest paperbacks from Great Britain. Somehow, surrounded by the glory of Greece, I became a fan of Paul Theroux's travel books -- reading about train trips thru China while I was surrounded by 1 of the oldest cultures on earth. Problem was, with everything so Xpensive, I couldn't afford 2 go out & SEE NE of it....
I got in2 downtown Athens 1nce during my time there: The American Embassy asked 4 some Air Force bodies 2 B on-hand when former President Jimmy Carter arrived in town. We made the crowd of Americans look bigger, I guess. Carter looked just like himself -- with grayer hair & more wrinkly, but otherwise.... On the bus on our way 2 the festivities, we passed by the Parthenon -- & I was stunned at how SMALL it seemed, perched on its little hill (the Acropolis) there overlooking downtown Athens....
Oh, the job? Well, it actually turned out 2 B a bit of a stretch trying 2 find enuf news 2 fill-up both sides of a notebook-sized sheet of paper 2wice a week. I ended up printing news briefs like: "The Base Post Office will be closing permanently this weekend. Base personnel should be sure to pick up all letters and packages by midnight Friday...."
The base was still selecting Airmen and Non-Commissioned Officers of the Month as its last days approached, so I wrote-up a few of them, too.
The rest of the time I answered phones & wrote long letters home on the office computer -- & tried 2 help out the spunky, good-natured Air Force captain who was the only other military person in the shop. My 1st day there she took me out 4 a cup of coffee & a chance 2 talk, & we discussed why the AF would close down a base in such a beautiful spot. Looming over the cafe & downtown was a chain of dry, rocky, towering hills -- a terrain much like the California coast.
"The Greeks don't want us here anymore," she said. In fact, some Greeks VERY MUCH didn't want us there -- some terrorists had shot & killed an AF master sergeant just a coupla blocks from the base within the past couple of weeks. ...Then the conversation ground 2 a halt & I looked around at the suddenly very empty streets around us....
The Greeks I met were very nice, warm, friendly people. 2 young Greek women worked in our office & were always laughing. 1 told me if I thot things were kinda tense & Xpensive there THEN, I shoulda bn around a few years earlier when the country was under military rule.... The other 1 gave me a ride 2 the airport when I ended up leaving earlier than Xpected....
I got a couple calls thru back 2 Ankara. During 1 of them, my boss back home told me I'd B coming home a week early cos the docs wanted 2 induce labor on my wife. I was thrilled -- I was soon 2 have a beautiful baby daughter -- but it took me 2 days 2 get out of Athens. The 1st flight they booked me on was packed FULL....
Just B4 I left, I wrote the best story I was able 2 do while in Greece: I interviewed a Greek civilian employee who'd worked at the base for 40 years -- as near as we could tell, he was the Greek national who'd worked at the base the longest.
He told me some great stories about how the Americans & Greeks useta have huge dinner parties on the beach back in the '60s -- about how the Americans would set-up huge dinner tables running down the beach & 100's of Greeks & Americans would have dinner & bring their families & go swimming in the Aegean. There was music & wine & lots of good times, & nobody ever talked about the military or war or fighting or terrorism.
He laughed, & sighed, & those days seemed very far off compared 2 1991.
"It's too bad you missed it," he said. "It was The Good Life."

(Jack Ketchum's horror novel SHE WAKES gets down the mood & look of Greece PERFECTLY -- & the story's pretty great, 2....)

#528: The smallest Air Force base in the world

I've bn stuck in some pretty small places. Ankara Air Station in Turkey (where I was assigned by the US Air Force in 1990-91) was about 4 blocks long & 3 blocks across -- a home 10,000 miles from home 4 the 2,000 or so Americans assigned there. It's all closed up now.
Onizuka Air Station in Sunnyvale, Calif., was even smaller. Not counting the 3-story parking garage, you could almost throw a baseball from 1 side of the base 2 the other.
But that'd B leaving out "The Blue Cube" -- a 4-story, windowless high-tech block, "shrouded in secrecy" (as the local newspapers put it), that was the whole reason the base was there.
Unfortunately, the Blue Cube sat right next 2 US Highway 101, where hundreds of thousands of cars passed by every day, possibly with 1,000s of people inside them wondering what went on inside that huge light-blue building....
Onizuka's whole mission was satellite tracking -- including GPS satellites that I assume were used 4 enemy surveillance & target-spotting during the 1st Gulf War. But in 1992, when I was there, We Couldn't Talk About Any Of That. It was all still Top Secret. This was LONG B4 everybody & his brother had a GPS system in their car.
I'd bn in other places where we Couldn't Talk About Our Mission -- in the 3 years I was at Francis E. Warren AFB in Wyoming, I could never Confirm or Deny the existence of nuclear missiles at any particular location. Everybody just knew they were Out There ... somewhere. That's about as detailed as I could get.
Onizuka AS was even MORE secretive. Imagine being a public-affairs guy at a place like that. Sure you could talk 2 the local media -- you just couldn't tell them what the base DID.
Imagine being a base newspaper guy at such a place. What the hell could you write about?
Well, somehow I found SOMETHING to fill the 8-pages-per-week of the Xerox-copier-reprinted typing-paper-sheet-sized ONIZUKA ORBITER. Since I couldn't talk much about the mission, I tended 2 write lots of humorous pieces, & focused on base intramural sports & people with intresting off-duty hobbies -- the 1's who'd talk 2 me about those. 1 guy wouldn't talk about being a member of a local rap group (when he was off-duty) Bcos he thot it would signal 2 his superiors that he didn't take his job seriously.
I had 2 put up with this heavy-handed Big Brother take-your-job-deadly-seriously stuff EVERY DAY. It was the kiss of death 4 a reporter who tried 2 have fun with his job. & it helped me decide 2 get out of the Air Force that much sooner.
In an AF base newspaper, 1 of a reporter's highest callings was sposta B 2 write a "mission feature" -- a slice-of-daily-life-style piece that would vividly show how 1 person's or 1 unit's job helped get the mission (national defense) done. In a place as secretive as "Oz," mission features were tough 2 write. Impossible, even.
1 unit didn't like the fact that I led off a story by focusing on the 9 empty 3-pound coffee cans they had stacked up in their break room. I thot the coffee cans showed the kind of demanding, ongoing, routine kind of job they did -- as important as it was. They wouldn't let me print the story with that description in it. I was able 2 convince their section chief of my reasons behind including such an image -- she even agreed with me. But she said publishing it would cost her her job. So I backed off.
Another unit (as close as I could get 2 the satellite-tracking center of the base's mission) was offended when I pointed out that their main work area (a cluster of huge satellite dishes that sometimes had 2 B climbed out on 2 B cleaned) included a "Pigeon Attack Zone" -- this area ID'd by big signs next 2 the door out 2 the dishes.
The guys thot the signs were hilarious -- so did I -- but they didn't want the signs (or the kind of "attacks" the pigeons often dive-bombed them with) mentioned in the base newspaper. We talked it over, & I held on. & the story ended-up winning an award.
But after that, fewer offices & work areas around the tiny base would talk 2 me in NE depth. Mission features got tougher 2 find. So much so, that 4 an April Fool's Day edition, I wrote a mission feature on the base's janitors -- a dozen guys who spent hours each nite vacuuming carpets & mopping miles of tile floors. I thot the story was hilarious -- so did the janitors. & when I printed the story under a "Mission Feature" banner, nobody could miss the joke. That story also won an award.
I fought the overly-secretive silliness every way I knew how -- not always good-naturedly. & I told every1 I knew there that I couldn't see why everything was so hush-hush -- we hadn't bn THAT secretive during those 3 years I served at the biggest missile base in the world (which I promise 2 write more about soon).
...It wasn't all bad. Tho I wasn't there 4 the very 1st issue of the ORBITER, they let me re-design it a little with the 2nd issue. Since the Sunnyvale/San Jose area was even then known as a high-tech mecca 4 computers & such, I chose a modern, high-tech look 4 the paper, with a sorta computerized-looking sans-serif typeface that let me squeeze even more info in2 every issue's 8 (or sometimes more) pages.
& despite the frustrations, I wrote some stuff I was pretty happy with. 1 piece was on 1/2adozen base guys who had up&coming parts in the Bay Area rap music scene. I wish I coulda done more of that stuff. I hadda lotta fun with base intramural sports -- usually attracted 2 the losers, but trying pretty conscientiously 2 get everything covered. It was a small base & pretty EZ 2 keep up with.
Possibly the best story ever while I was there was on a base golf tournament -- & naturally, I followed around some REALLY BAD golfers, including R base Chaplain who was still learning how 2 play. He was hilarious -- after he scored a 9 on the 1st hole & a 10 on the 2nd, we were all crying from laffing so hard. & luckily the comedy came over in the story.
But all the stuff I Couldn't Talk About left me with a lotta stuff I Couldn't Write About -- & sometimes if I tried, people I'd never met would rewrite me 4 reasons unknown. Certainly not Bcos of National Security. I was able 2 convince most of these folks that I Knew What I Was Doing. But their rewrites would always stand. I started taking my name off of lots of stuff -- the only way I could noticeably protest.
I'd bn planning on getting out of the AF since B4 coming 2 Oz. When things started going bad, I started sending out a dozen resumes a week 2 Real Newspapers, begging 4 a writing job. Finally, in Sept 1992, The Smallest Daily Newspaper In The World -- located in Worland, Wyoming -- offered 2 hire me as a managing editor. It was the beginning of a whole new adventure.
After 10 years of service, the AF did at least let me out when I asked nicely. & I left Oz with a couple of end-of-the-year awards, 4 AF Space Command's Best Feature Writing & Best News Writing of 1992. (The 2nd of these was kinda a joke. There was no "news" at R base. Not Officially.)
...Oh, music was important in all this, 2. The cheapest house we could find 2 rent was 45 mins away from the base in San Jose (which then had the most Xpensive rent prices in the nation, we were told). 2 dare California's freeways (101, 680, 880, etc), music was ESSENTIAL. It was while driving these freeways that I realized Madonna was an Artist -- a mix-tape of her songs that I could actually STAND ("Open Your Heart," "Live to Tell," "The Look of Love," "Oh Father," "Dear Jessie," "Dress You Up," etc.) probly kept me from wrecking the car a dozen times. On the way 2&from work I also played the HECK outta mix tapes I'm still playing 2day.
& that 45-minute commute was on the Good Days. When it rained -- which it seemingly always did each Fri aft -- the drive home could stretch in2 3 hours....

"Back on the Chain Gang"

I went off 2 Air Force basic training in Dec 1982, after 5 years of pretty great dead-end jobs, & after a year of total unemployment with no sign of things improving in the future. I'd bn married less than a month. The new wife & I agreed that this was something I could do that might get me closer 2 my chosen career (writing) + bring in a little $$$.
So away I went. I was almost looking 4ward 2 a Great Adventure. I knew all about basic training horror stories -- I was pretty sure nothing would come as much of a suprise. I was wrong.
After 1 of the worst airplane flights I've ever had -- I was absolutely CERTAIN the plane was somehow flying sideways, & later that we were skidding down the runway out of control ... as we flew thru a thunderstorm an hour B4 we landed at San Antonio -- I arrived 2 7 weeks of non-stop screaming, total regimentation, & Bing marched everywhere 24/7.
I wasn't worried about some of it -- I didn't worry about my hair (which was down below my shoulders) all being cut off. I Xpected that. I didn't Xpect the total rush-rush all the time, being screamed at 4 the slightest minor infraction, the unnecessary heavy stress that made summa the guys in R 50-bed open-bay dorm talk or scream out in their sleep.
I thot I handled it pretty well -- better than some, even tho I got "recycled" 6 days, graduated with a whole diffrent group of guys than the 1's I'd gotten 2 know, & at 1 point was forced 2 use crutches 4 a coupla days when a badly-fitting pair of combat boots crushed the nerves across the top of my foot.
But it wasn't totally bad. The food was actually pretty good -- I GAINED 12 pounds during basic, Bcame addicted 2 breakfasts & the fresh slices of fruit pie the chow hall constantly served up.
Some of the classes weren't bad, tho I hated the way we were force-fed some stuff as gospel. 1 sergeant defied us 2 name 1 person who'd "made it" in life without 1st "making it" in the military. The only guy I could think of was Jimi Hendrix, but I wasn't gonna suggest him 2 that crowd. Now I'd know at least a couple of others -- Robert Mitchum ... & I'm sure there R others I've forgotten....
San Antonio wasn't bad -- the little bit of it I got 2 see during basic. & it was good that I felt that way, cos I'd B spending mosta my next 3 years there. Waking up B4 dawn wasn't so bad either -- there was breakfast 2 look 4ward 2, & seeing the 50-man flights of trainees Bing marched 2 the chow hall with their AF-issued flashlights making little circles of light pooling & flashing across the ground....
We were sometimes given A LITTLE free time 2 clean the dorm or shine shoes or write letters home -- letters from home & VERY occasional phonecalls held us all 2gether, & we all Oooh'ed & Aaah'ed at pictures of each others' wives & girlfriends....
1nce in a very great while we were allowed 2 have music in the dorm. I remember hearing Toto's "Africa" & The Who's "Athena" & maybe some Hall & Oates. A buncha guys did a great impromptu performance of "The Message" 4 those of us who were on KP duty during Christmas Day. But that was about it....
Finally it came 2 an end & we all survived & graduated, & we were allowed as a group 2 visit the nearby "Shopette" 2 bag essentials B4 we were shipped out the next day. & as I circled around the tiny store looking 4 shoelaces & Dr Scholl's air-cushion insoles & shoe-shining stuff & Ghod knows what, I heard the store's sound system & Chrissie Hynde's voice singing something new....
"The powers that be/That force us to live like we do/Bring me to my knees/When I see what they've done to you...."
Knew it was Chrissie -- I'd played the 1st Pretenders album 100's of times -- it had gotten me thru 1980 in 1 piece. & the best parts of their 2nd album had certainly helped brighten up 1981. But I hadn't heard them lately....
"And I'll die as I stand here today/Knowing that deep in my heart/They'll fall to ruin one day/For making us part...."
It was like a letter from home. It seemed 2 sum up how I felt about my situation, & about being separated from my new Mrs. But in its bittersweetness it also seemed 2 say that things would B OK, that things would get better & life would go on.
It was just what I needed 2 hear at that time, in that place.
I went on 2 the Armed Forces Journalism School at Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis, Indiana, in early Feb, & soon got sucked in2 a wide-ranging, demanding 10-week journalism & public-affairs course that I thot I would flunk out of EVERY SINGLE WEEK.
There was more good music I heard there that helped hold me 2gether until I graduated in May -- Bob Seger's "Even Now" & Stevie Winwood's "Still in the Game" & "Valerie," & Genesis's "You Might Recall," & Dire Straits' LOVE OVER GOLD album, & Modern English's "I Melt With You" & their AFTER THE SNOW album. & Michael Jackson's "Beat It" was all over the radio. & Men at Work's "Be Good Johnny," Fleetwood Mac's "Wish You Were Here," & more I can't even remember now.
I heard "Chain Gang" again on the radio a few nites back. I hadn't heard it in awhile, but every time I do it takes me back 2 that time -- hearing it 4 the 1st time in that little store at basic training, & how it seemed 2 sum-up what I was living thru at that time, & how it still sums-up parts of my life, looking back:
"Like a break in the battle was your part/In the wretched life of a lonely heart...."

2 years in Turkey! (NOT as in "gobble-gobble"....)

The 2 worst years of my life! That's how I felt about my 2 years in Turkey, at the time. Sorta still feel that way.
But 2 good things came out of it: My daughter was born there. & I wrote some of the best work of my life.
After 3 years in Wyoming telling every1 I'd stay permanently if they wanted, the Air Force sent me 2 Ankara, Turkey, a city of 4 million people located in a bowl in the middle of hilly Anatolia.
The X-wife & I were Xcited about going. Prices there were CHEAP -- we were told we could take a "luxury" bus from 1 end of the country 2 the other 4 $10. There were lots of ancient ruins 2 crawl around on & "Oooh" & "Ahhh" at, plenty of neat stuff 2 see. All that history! A whole diffrent place! A totally new Xperience! So much 2 learn!
We flew over early in Dec 1989. Practically right after we arrived, the 1st Gulf War started. So most of R plans 4 touring the country went right out the window....
The 2nd big shock was Ankara itself. We landed in the middle of winter, & the Turks use coal 2 heat their homes & the MANY apartment bldgs around the city. & in the winter, the smoke from that coal -- along with the Xhaust from a coupla million cars -- hangs in the air, & stays there until the temperature warms up.
We noticed during R nighttime ride from the airport in2 town that the air was BROWN. In the daytime it was more of a gray-white, but the smog was so thick we couldn't clearly see the apartment bldg NEXT DOOR. At night there'd just B squares of lite from other people's apartment windows, seemingly hanging in the air....
Ankara Air Station itself was tiny -- a few blocks wide by mayB 6 blocks long -- home 2 a couple hundred Americans. Home away from home. We had a grocery store as big as 2 7-11's stuck together -- with great milk from Germany, & my 1st-ever Xperience with bottled water, since the public water supply wasn't considered really safe. We had a small base exchange -- like a tiny WalMart, the 1st place I ever saw CDs.
We also had 1a THE BEST bookstores ever. The Stars and Stripes Bookstore was crammed full of the latest paperbacks & LOTSA newspapers, cos 1 thing most of us DIDN'T get every day was News From Home. Most of us didn't have access 2 the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service, which showed lotsa reruns, tape-delayed sports events, & 5 mins of AF-approved news each nite.
So the S&S Bookstore carried the weight. It had LOTS of war-fiction, + TONS of science fiction, horror, mysteries, thrillers, romances, bestsellers, lotsa Tom Clancy & Stephen King. Oh, & lotsa porn, 2. The owners knew who their audience was....
There was also a ton of books from Great Britain -- stuff like the great PENGUIN GUIDE TO POPULAR MUSIC, & M.H. Zool's GOOD READING GUIDE TO SCIENCE FICTION.
There would B something new & cool on the shelves there every week. It still amazes me how many books we brot back from Turkey. A partial list: Thomas Harris's THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS & RED DRAGON, Kathe Koja's THE CIPHER, Gael Baudino's GOSSAMER AXE, Jesse Sublett's ROCK CRITIC MURDERS, Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling's YEAR'S BEST FANTASY AND HORROR, Gardner Dozois's YEAR'S BEST SCIENCE FICTION, Karl Edward Wagner's YEAR'S BEST HORROR STORIES, Edward Lee's over-the-top COVEN, & LOTS more....
Books & newspapers & letters were about R only connection with Back Home. After a year, when we got an apartment that had actual TV, the X & I Bcame Major League Baseball fans just so we could see something CURRENT that was actually happening in America!
We didn't know what THE SIMPSONS was 'til late in our 2 years -- when I saw the 1st couple episodes I laffed til I cried, & then I laffed til I about threw up. America was a mystery that was 10,000 miles away 4 us -- Rosanne Barr sang the National Anthem at the World Series?! What the hell is GOING ON Back Home...?
It's hard 2 Dscribe the sense of isolation we felt. All of us who were there felt it, I think. So we tried 2 have some fun with it, have some good times. You never knew when the electricity would go out -- possibly sevral times a day. You never knew when the water would stop running, or if the toilets would flush.
But the work never stopped. 1nce I settled in I was a 1-man-band on the newspaper, which kept me hoppin -- & eventually Xhausted me. I got 1 week off in 2 years.
The paper itself looked like a little magazine, which was cool -- it had photos & cool graphics & everything. & there was room 4 me 2 write personality features & comedy & off-the-wall stuff if I wanted. & somehow I Bcame a sportswriter -- I guess Bcos of the freedom it gave me compared 2 just-the-facts reporting. & base intramural sports were a blast 2 cover. 1 of the 1st big stories I wrote after arriving was on the base basketball championship game -- which went 2 quadruple-overtime!
While doing all the other stuff I could just have fun with sports -- I wrote stories about the base's 2 worst baseball teams, including a team from the British Embassy that went winless all season but laffed all thru it. Their captain assured me they'd B back next season: "We might even know the rules by then."
I also wrote about the base's worst volleyball team -- fielded by the base Clinic: doctors & nurses & paramedics & admin people -- some of whom went on leave rather than face losing another match....
Pieces like this won me U.S. Air Forces in Europe's Sportswriter of the Year Award in 1991, & I was runner-up 4 the command's Journalist of the Year Award. I was thrilled. Speechless. & it was the freedom I got thru sportswriting & comedy that got me that recognition.
Probly my fave story in 2 years was the Dog Bone Awards, about the ways the base's Finance Office kept morale up during tough times. The Dog Bones were presented every Fri 2 the Finance troop who did the most embarrassing thing all week. I attended 1 of these blowing-off-steam sessions, thot it was hilarious, wrote it up 4 the paper -- the story wrote itself, only took about 30 mins -- & the week after the story appeared, the Finance folks gave ME a Dog Bone. & the plaque is still hanging on my wall....
It wasn't all fun & games. Elsewhere in the country Americans were getting shot at by terrorists. Not all Turks thot it was OK that we were bombing Iraq. We were told 2 "dress Turkish" -- wear dark clothes, don't speak English, go without a shower 4 awhile, blend in, take diffrent routes 2 work.
1 morning in late October 1991, a friend of mine -- a computer Xpert who'd bailed me & the paper outta computer problems 100 times -- got blown-up by a car bomb on his way in 2 work. Everybody at the base went in2 shock. The X & I spent R last month in Turkey in a daze. & we left in Dec 1991. I haven't bn back. I don't really miss it that much.
Ankara Air Station was closed a few years back as a cost-saving measure. It feels weird that a base where I spent 2 years of my life isn't really there anymore. I can still see it....
Don't let me give you a bad impression of the Turks, either. Mosta the folks we met were Xtremely nice, & they were especially kind 2 my son & my golden-haired newborn daughter.
& if you were 2 visit Turkey today, you might like it. The southern coast is gorgeous -- the little I saw of it. My daughter was born in Adana, & that place was like Florida with Turkish roadsigns. There were even palmtrees!
It all depends on where you're at, what you see, & yer attitude. In the middle of that 2 years I spent 3 weeks in Athens, Greece, helping close-down another base. The Greeks think Athens is a toilet -- totally polluted. I thot it was so dazzlingly bright I hadta buy a pair of sunglasses.... It was like California only with what looked like Russian roadsigns....
After we left Turkey, the Air Force sent me 2 San Jose, California, 2 the smallest base in the entire AF. Where the biggest building was a 4-story Blue Cube that 1,000's of people drove by every day. & the base had a mission that I Couldn't Talk About....

Where are the laffs?

These R grim times.
As any look at a newspaper or any random 5 mins of CNN will tell ya.
Now more than ever, we need laffs.
& I don't mean in silly movies or in TV situation comedies or in comedy clubs or on "Reality TV."
I mean in the very media that bring us down every day:
TV news & newspapers.
About the only time TV news & newspapers R the slightest bit funny these days is when they're covering the latest screw-up on the Republican presidential campaign trail. (Did you see Herman Cain's latest act on Tuesday? Oh my Ghod! Couldn't stop laffing!)
Things R getting so freaking serious that we NEED SOMETHING 4 a break. When the GOP fields the Usual Gang Of Idiots as potential presidential nominees, when there R STILL 10 million people out of work, when Congress is useless & the President is helpless & the US teeters on the brink of becoming another 3rd World country....
We need SOMETHING to help us lighten up. About the only time that happens these days is if the media MAKES A MISTAKE (Ghod forbid!). Or if some soundman or camera guy accidentally farts during a press conference.
(Of course you'll never hear THAT on the 6 o'clock news....)
4 Ghod's sake, at least give us another Republican debate 2 laff at....
(If Herman Cain would just ADMIT that he's got a thing 4 white women, we could all have a big laff & then get on with our lives....)
Things didn't useta B this serious. & the media useta have a lot more fun with covering the news. These days the only reporters I see REGULARLY making fun of what happens out there in The Real World each week are Jeanne Moos at CNN & Craig Wilson, who writes a weekly lite-humor column called "The Final Word" 4 USA TODAY. (Is Dave Barry still writing his syndicated humor columns 4 newspapers? I haven't seen them in quite awhile.... Maybe he gave them up 2 write books?)
& there is NOBODY in my immediate local area writing topical humor 4 any of the newspapers -- that I've noticed. Almost all the reporting & commentary is viewed straight-on. There's an editorial columnist 4 the TACOMA NEWS TRIBUNE named Peter Callaghan who occasionally does screamingly funny Q&A columns about hot statewide political issues. But he otta write them every week. His newspaper could use a little more life.
It didn't useta B like this. Back in my newspaper days it seemed like every paper had somebody who could write comedy. When I was working on Air Force base newspapers in the '80s & '90s I went outta my way 2 try 2 find some lite & funny stuff 2 counteract all the dead-serious & sleep-inducing stuff we hadta print.
I remember writing columns about "Air Force Medals You Don't Want To Win" (like the infamous "Air Force Condemnation Medal"), an Air Force "Glossary" (in which a bureaucratic phrase like "alcohol-related incident" was decoded into its real meaning: "A drunken brawl"), & "Air Force Bases You'll Never Want to Serve At" -- an atlas of fictional bases located in desolate West Texas, desolate Southeastern Oregon, & desolate Western Wyoming ... 2 go along with the real bases we already had in Greenland, Iceland, Korea, the Aleutian Islands, North Dakota, Wyoming, Idaho, Montana & other Ghod-forsaken places....
I also wrote an off-the-wall sports feature on an AF doctor named Joe Kenny who competed in stair-climbing races during his off-duty time -- a hobby that got his name in2 the GUINNESS BOOK OF WORLD RECORDS. Not Xactly yer standard AF-newspaper-type sports coverage....
When I left the AF & started working 4 civilian papers, I discovered real-life comedy was all around, all I had 2 do was notice it. & it practically wrote itself.
I wrote silly lite-comedy features about a married couple who used multi-colored carpets 2 replace their front lawn after their grass died -- & about how many traffic jams & car wrecks in front of their house this led to; about how a computer glitch led 2 3-dozen turkeys being delivered 2 a local Senior Citizens' Center just in time 4 Thanksgiving; how a small-town council had 2 subpoena a pot-bellied pig 2 a council meeting 4 a discussion about the town's livestock ordinance; how some packets of Holly-brand sugar got a 5-second close-up during an episode of THE X-FILES (there was a Holly Sugar factory in the Wyoming town where I lived); how a local highschool senior wanted 2 impress President Bill Clinton during a National Honor Society visit 2 the White House -- so the boy performed a gorilla impression....
...& lots more. Some of this stuff got picked-up by the Associated Press & sent 2 newspapers all over the country. & it was an absolute BREEZE 2 write, like a gift from Ghod. It was a great break -- & a great RELIEF -- from my usual straight-news reporting about council meetings & car wrecks. Most of these silly stories I could crank out in 30 mins or less, & it was like every word flashed in2 my head perfectly from beginning 2 end.
It was my favorite part of being a reporter & the 1 thing I miss most about the newspaper business.
& I knew that after writing a story like that -- after sharing a laff with readers on the front page -- I knew I'd done my job & a whole lot more. I'd earned my paycheck ... & hadda great time doing it.
You can't fake comedy. It's either good or it isn't. & you know when it's good. Not just because you're laffing. You get that sorta glow....
I really miss that.
& even tho these R grim times, we could use a lot more real-life comedy. Fun stories. I know they're out there, even at the worst of times. Because people still have a sense of humor -- & still use it 2 get thru their days -- no matter how bad things get.
I don't know if newspaper & TV reporters' hands R tied or if everybody's just 2 tense these days 2 try 2 crack a joke....
But it's the 1 thing I hardly ever see anymore on TV news or in newspapers. & it's the 1 thing I would most LIKE 2 see.
We could all use some laffs. LOTS of them....

The Boogie Monster and other adventures....

At the end of May 1986, the Air Force transferred me from San Antonio, Texas, to Cheyenne, Wyoming, where for the 1st time in my 3-year AF career I was finally gonna get the chance 2 write 4 a real base newspaper.
To celebrate, my then-wife & I took a 2-week "great circle" tour thru the Plains & the Intermountain West -- across west Texas, thru New Mexico & Arizona, then north up thru Arizona & Utah, across southern Idaho 2 see our folks in Boise, then back east across Idaho & thru the wilds of Wyoming 2 Cheyenne.
We stopped at every National Park we could find along the way -- the Grand Canyon (which is really stunning), Bryce Canyon (which isn't really a canyon), Zion (which was as awesome & as much like going 2 church as Grand), Craters of the Moon, Yellowstone, etc.
By the time we got 2 Yellowstone we were pretty tired & pretty bored with the whole thing: "What, another scenic climax...?"
When we finally got 2 my new base -- Francis E. Warren AFB on the western outskirts of Cheyenne, then the biggest intercontinental ballistic missile base in the country -- the folks at FEW put me & the Mrs. in temporary housing til we found somewhere 2 live. Their temporary housing was more like a huge cabin -- over a hill from the main base, down by a creek, surrounded by trees, quiet -- like still being on vacation.
The cabin had all the essentials -- beds, couches, TV, radio, kitchen, etc. Naturally, I turned on the stereo the 1st evening 2 C what kinda music I'd B forced 2 put up with in Cheyenne. I was dreading that it might all B Country, something like being back home in Idaho.
Instead, 1 of the 1st stations I found was (I think) KOA AM outta Denver, playing some rare R&B track from the early '60s. & then the DJ came on. He called himself The Boogie Monster.
At 1st I thot he was some kinda 2nd-rate Wolfman Jack -- same deep voice, same kinda jive come-on, a little cheezy, in a good way. But soon I realized he wasn't 2nd-rate at all. The stuff he played I'd never heard anywhere B4. & he sure had a lotta fun with it.
In fact, it soon Bcame clear that listening 2 The Boogie Monster was like some kinda lunatic had escaped from the asylum & locked himself in2 the studio with a pile of ABSOLUTELY GREAT previously forgotten records, & he was gonna play EVERY ONE OF 'EM, & you were gonna LOVE ALL OF THEM. & that's how it was gonna B 'til the police kicked down the door.
Now here's the catch: I don't remember 4 sure ANY of the stuff he played. I didn't keep any lists like that back then. I know it was all great. I think I mighta heard Brewer & Shipley's brilliant "Witchi-Tai-To" 4 the 1st time on his show, & some long but intriguing number by a short-lived late-'60s "supergroup" called Sweet Thursday. But I might B wrong. It mighta bn some other syndicated "forgotten oldies" show.
I know I listened 2 The Boogie Monster sevral times during the 3 years we lived in Cheyenne. But I know I also kinda took him 4 granted, figuring he'd always B there, & that I'd always B around (I told LOTS of people I'd stay in Wyoming til I retired if the AF would let me), that I'd have plenty of time 2 listen 2 more at my leisure. But it didn't Xactly work out that way.
Besides, I had other things on my mind, like how 2 write in English for an Air Force newspaper, how 2 run the whole thing myself, how to write, photograph, layout, & distribute the thing all over the base on Friday morning. Usually alone. Sometimes in 2 feet of snow.
Sometimes I had help. I invited 1 of my co-workers & his wife over 2 the house 4 dinner in an effort 2 make the office/work atmosphere more comfortable. Then I stumbled over the issue of What Music To Play? My co-worker & his wife were rather fundamentalist Christians, & I had no gospel or sacred music in the house. But I wanted something that rocked a LITTLE.
So I tried 2 turn them on 2 Fairport Convention -- which they said was "too morbid." That'll teach me 4 starting out with "I'll Keep it With Mine." Shoulda opened with "Listen, Listen," or "Come All Ye." Or maybe tried something else instead. The Moody Blues? Hey, if they wanted morbid, I shoulda put on Nick Drake. Or I coulda played King Crimson & just scared 'em the hell outta the house....
We also hadda couple of broadcasters in the Public Affairs Office (at 1 point we had 3, Ghod knows why), & they moonlighted with off-duty jobs at local radio stations. 1 of 'em invited me 2 drop in on him while he worked at 1a the local Album Rock stations.
So I drove over 1 nite after work & watched him do his thing as "Steve Cheyenne" on the air 4 a coupla hrs. It was pretty cool. We both cracked up about how obvious his on-air name was, & we were both frustrated by how tight the station's playlist was -- because the ramshackle studios were CRAMMED with albums -- there was vinyl piled & scattered EVERYWHERE. It was a freakin treasure-house of tunes & there were only maybe 200 songs on the station's playlist.
Just being IN the station was cool, especially at nite -- it was not at all the brightly-lit high-tech place I Xpected -- in fact, the rundown dark-shadows condition of the place was almost an Xact match 4 the station described in Gregory Nicoll's spooky 1989 horror story "Dead Air," 1 of my horror faves.
While I was in Cheyenne, a co-worker dragged me along 2 a writers' workshop in Denver, where I got 2 meet a couple of my favorite science fiction writers, Edward Bryant & Connie Willis. I found out that pro writers put their pants on just like every1 else. I raved 2 Bryant how knocked-out I'd been by his great Wyoming story, "Strata." I was pretty incoherent tho, probly sounded like an idiot. He said only a couple of people had ever noticed that story before....
Tho there was some job-related stress, I didn't realize til later that I was Living The Good Life. The X & I were no longer homesick 4 Idaho (like we had been in Texas), & despite the brutally cold winters, Wyoming was pretty great. We were pretty happy. Our son was born in Cheyenne in 1988.
But I made the mistake of telling 2 many people I'd stay permanently. & the AF sent me 2 Ankara, Turkey, at the end of 1989. That was also an adventure, but it's a whole diffrent story.
When I left Cheyenne, The Boogie Monster was still on the air. But I've never been back there, or NEwhere close 2 Denver, so I don't know if he's still on the air 20+ years later & still crankin out those great forgotten tunes. In these days of the Internet where nothing is ever forgotten, The Boogie Monster doesn't have a Wikipedia page, & I'm not even sure I got the KOA call-letters right.
But I remember. Sort of. I remember....