Posted on 09/07/2019 7:23:05 AM PDT by Chainmail
My uncle of 98 years recently passed. He was an amazing guy...had five degrees in mechanical engineering, doctor and orthodontist. During WW II he worked on the Manhattan Project and for a few years after the war he worked on nuclear weapons at Los Alamos. During a visit a few years before he died, we were discussing his nuclear weapons work and I asked him about the machining tolerances on the plutonium cores. After a few moments contemplation, he said “I can’t tell you that — it’s classified information.” He was still sharp as a tack and couldn’t tell me simple things like classified tolerances 70 years later.
“He was still sharp as a tack and couldn’t tell me simple things like classified tolerances 70 years later.”
About a year and a half ago, I wanted to read some of the old action reports from when I was in Vietnam. Most are available and declassified. The one I wanted to read (from 1969, to refresh some of the details in my memory) was unavailable, because it had not yet been declassified.
I especially liked the trip back to my "pricks", though I don't remember the 77, I do remember the 19.
I was a radio teletype operator in my own hooch in Korea so it was a tad didderent.
ANYone out on FTX can relate to your account ... especially me in Korea ..... except we were able to sneak off and tryst with lovely local girls for a bar of soap.
My wife is Filipina and though I am not familiar with Mindoro, I DO know a bit about provincial (boonies) Mindanao, where Mama lives ... just visited last April as a matter of fact.
I got re-assigned while in Korea ('65 - '66) to an Engineer outfit (76th? ... I forget) and our job was to bridge the Han River.
After the FTX, we broke the floating bridge down and part was on our camp side and the other side close to North Korea (if I remember correctly) and I was the only one stationed to guard all that alluminum on that far side.
18 years young and still stupid about a LOT and the "slicky boys" were good.
I was live armed, but I had no real fear because Army was still sort of a game to me ... RTT op. is an elite kind of job (work 8, off 16) and a lot of "yobo" {lover} time in the village.
With no other guard, I was left on my own and I wasn't very good at making "combat decisions"..... I think I was Spec 4 at the time
They got away with a pretty large aluminum span ... about 20 ft by maybe 18" that I never saw disappear and got an Article 15 for it. Turns out they had buried it in the sand and I never saw it happen .... MY defense was the parts were too far spread out and it was true, that's why only the Article 15.
I enlisted at 17 and after three, never looked back .... God had kept me from "country" which I didn't digest until I got back in the world in "68.
By then I was full blown sex, drugs and rock and roll.
Thanx for your account and your service
We’d lug them around with spare batteries just for fun lol.
We then went with the tccs radios, they are the cat’s meow.
Thanks for sharing!
Good story. Thanks.
As a sailor myself, we never stole anything. Thief is such an ugly word, equipment was re-purposed and re-appropriated, of course, for the good of the Navy.
You should have that huge pile of “repurposed” stuff in that wardroom!
I was in Okinawa from Sept 77 to Sept 78 assigned to 3rd FSSG, although it was 3rd FSR when I arrived. It became 3rd FSSG sometime during my time there. Semper Fi.
Shortly before my father in law died, his wife told us he had worked on the Manhattan project. We had no idea, and when we asked him he said "That's classified". That was all he would say. We went home and laughed about it with my mom and step dad.
Several years later my step dad died. His brother told us he had worked on the Manhattan project! I could't believe that stinker laughed about my father in law with us, knowing he had the same secret!
That’s funny!
Great talent!!
You manage to translate military ‘lingo’ into language that I can understand, but it still maintains a powerful punch.
All hand written, and of various scan quality. Very interesting to scan through those of my time there.
Of the time when my pilot was hovering and tagged rear rotors with a stationary -46, causing us to crash from several feet, it just said we were in a ground collision. Well, yeah, we did collide with the ground.
Love it. Keep writing.
My performance reports stated: “He is a master at appropriating perceived surpluses.”
Running recon jobs just prior to the, um, *incursion* into Cambodia in 1970, we were picking [and marking] targets for bombing by the USAF via radar navigation, day or night, known as *Operation Menu.* And then my dad passed away in Chicago, with his remains being sent home to Indiana for thew Funeral. I got notified by a Red Cross representitive, who told me that the paperwork for my emergency leave and flight home was in process and would be completed as soon as I paid him a $400 *processing fee.* In cash. Which I didn't have.
Sp like a good troop, I went to my immediate supervisor, a Captain who blew up, having been shook down himself by a Red Cross Rep when his own father had passed away while he was in Korea. He certainly didn't want to see the poor Red Cross man get hurt, so he assigned a pair of Nungs to *escort* the guy, after telling them to beat the snot out of him daily, and to break his leg if he tried to leave the camp. Oh, and the Nungs didn't speak English.
I was sent out by Marine H-34 helo to a US Army artillery fire base, by Huey from there to Tan Son Nhut, then made it to Indiana the day before the services [thanks to a very helpful USAF Major who got me space available seating on a 2-seat fighter trainer he was ferrying from Scott AFB/ St Louis to Wright-Patterson in Ohio] When I returned to my boss he arranged for me to catch a ride in with our boss, who wanted to have a nice chat with Mr Red Cross, after which he'd decide whether or not the guy was going to be killed in a terrible accident on the way back.
We had a real short chain of command: my immediate boss was the captain, his boss was a full colonel, and his wore two stars. The guy whose helo I rode back in was the two-star. I don't know if the Red Cross guy made it back or not. The floor of that D-model Huey was awfully slippery. Operation Menu was declassified by President Clinton in 2000, way to late for me to be able to tell the whole story to my grandmother or my dad's two brothers.
The Nungs were great little guys, kind of like Gurkhas without the sense of humour.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.