WAR STORIES FROM PARADISE You have traveled back to 1990!
Entries
are
posted by the year the writer arrived, so be sure
to check either side of the yearyou're looking for to
find your old buddies, shipmates, and
sweethearts! I'll update this page as I
receive your warstory! No anoymous reports
-only if you're
willing to put yourself up to the ridicule of
the world will you be entered into this
Guestbook! Also, please note that the
email addresses listed are those at the me the
entry was received - some of them from
1997! Sorry if they don't work now...
Send in YOUR
Story
NOW using the convenient fill-in-the-blanks
form!
1990-91
Steven Smith = zmapapa3@gmail.com
Do you know this girl? Steve says her name is
Chris but he doesn't remember her last name. He
was MCSF and she worked at the COMSTA. Please
let him know if you know anything about her.
Outfit = 1st
platoon mcsf nsf diego garcia
My_Quest = to find the perfect guitar.
VT_of_a_Swallow =
I would have to ask her.
My_Warstory = It
was an amazing place, loved the fishing, snorkeling,
and my god the drinking. My 1st night of drinking was
with olmstead, you had to keep up with him to fit in
it seemed, I did...but sam migel beer makes for a bad
hang over. Hobbs was my buddy, nice guy out of texas.
I remember the day the buff's took off for Iraq. The
royal marines were Bad ass and damn funny especially
on dragon nite at the brit club. Got the worst sunburn
of my life falling asleep in a skiff snorkeling with
weir, big hump the next day and the skin came off the
bottom of my feet, boots all bloody...it was bad lol,
couple of shots in the feet at the clinic and ready
for duty a few days later. Also while I was there I
was showing the 1st few symptoms of cancer . Married
my wife right before the war actually started while on
leave, she was a marine as well. It was a great
experience and everytime I go to an island I always
say..."ya its nice...but its not as nice as D.G>".
1990-91
Name = Joe Krumm
submit_by = fn26051@gmail.com
Citizenship = USA
Service = USMC
Outfit = MCSF Co., Diego Garcia
My_Quest = Get to heaven
VT_of_a_Swallow = zero
My_Warstory = Will never forget my 14 months on the
island. Looking for Steve Simmons, my fellow
drinking, fishing and Platoon Commander while we were
there.
God bless the Royal Marines.
1972, 1981/1982, 1987 to 1995
Dave Fisher, Capt, USMM (Ret.), CAPT (SWO) USN (Ret.) =
callsign.BULL@tni.net
Citizenship = USA; Service = Merchant Marine;
Other_Service = USNR; Outfit = USS R. E. Kraus; USNS
Sealift Antarctic; SS Green Valley, G. Island, G
Harbour; MV Jeb Stuart
My_Quest = Here in 2014, would like to go back for one
last, short look-see.
My_Warstory = First went in '72 in USS Richard E. Kraus
(DD-849) to deliver crypto gear. It looked like
"McHale's Navy" then. Returned in '81/'82 in USNS
Sealift Antarctic (T-AO-176) with the MSC Near Term
Prepositioned Force. Didn't look too much different.
Returned again in '87 to the four Afloat Prepositioned
Force LASH ammo ships - a couple of years as Chief Mate,
the remainder as Master. Dodge now a little more
civilized. While there in 1994, sortied the entire APF
as Convoy Commodore and CTG-159.1 for Operation Vigilant
Warrior up in the Gulf. Technically still a civilian,
but assigned under Allied doctrine.
Left in late '95 to command the COMPSRON ONE flagship in
the Med. At the time I left (9 yrs on), I was "The
Mayor of DGAR," as the longest serving occupant.
Like to go back one last time before I pass, just to see
how "my" island is doing. Have lumpia and a beer at
the "O."
July, 1990 - July 1991
Jaime F. Diaz = jfdiaz4@yahoo.com
Citizenship = USA; Service = USMC; Outfit = Marine Corps
Security Force Company
My_Quest = To find the holy grail; VT_of_a_Swallow = A
European Swallow or an African Swallow?
My_Warstory = Had a blast!!!!!
1987 thru to 1993
Walter Johnson = Waltsrentals@gmail.com
Citizenship = USA; Service = Merchant Marine; Outfit =
Man the ship of Alex Bonneyman
My_Warstory = I
served under the direction of Mearsk
Line Captain of the alex bonneyman
when Ronald Reagan
president promissed vetran rights
for merchant marines spending over 9
month active time there
during the Irac and Iran
WAR how do i get Vetren
rights now that im older i Have no DD214
?
I
was educated in asian orang gas in 30 minutes handed a certificate and later spent two month wondering if i was
going to die cause all the tales of this virus was regular to the
heat.
But Funny stuf : We did an aft ship
refuel with the destroyer and
every one walked away while the hose
was re
coiled from my galley window i
notice the the destroyer getting closer ,,
the hose had hooked under the destroyer and
was towing the cannon
into the back of our ship.
It was a pleasure to serve
with every i loved when the "Tender"
ships came into the dock and i
never seen a cocnut crab.
april 1990/june 1991
michael j mason = kiddo10@gmail.com
Citizenship = USA; Service = USN; Outfit = mobile
maintenence facility /aimd division
My_Quest = story VT_of_a_Swallow = dead
My_Warstory = Diego Garcia was a unique place
everything seemed like an island paradise for a few
months until i went for a joy ride with the 4300 air
force on a dc 10 to refuel 2 B-52"s on a routine
exercise over the Indian ocean. Our refueling
boom would not retract all the way and we did an
emergency landing, with all the fire trucks and
ambulances awaiting on the runway. the flight engineer
instructed us to wear oxygen masks and when we landed
to a complete stop to exit the aircraft and run for an
ambulance. I did so and the aircraft was safe
except for a few flat tires as the aircraft came to a
sudden stop. I then boarded a bus to return to "town" about
a 2 mile ride along the lagoon. many people were
talking about Iraq invading Kuwait, i didn't think
much of it until i noticed that all of the forward
deployed merchant marine ships were gone! I knew
the it was serious. I became a part of Desert
Shield, five thousand air force personnel showed up
within two weeks, and set up what they called tent
city. Life became more stressful, waiting in
lines everywhere. I was on duty the night that we attacked Iraq,
exactly at midnight January 20 I think. All
communications were turned off and the captain ordered
lights out. I watched as the b-52's took off, you
could tell they were loaded because they shook the
ground! That was the beginning of war and sadly we
lost a B-52 and three crewman. I don,t need to say
anymore. we partied everyday we could drinking
and living very freely, as if it was our last days of
our life. Many traditional rules were relaxed as we
battered that country. We heard about the army tank
fight and the road of death as many Iraqi's tried to
retreat. President Busch SR. was in charge and we
heard of a cease fire, I was never so happy to hear
those words! The party continued, Like a victory party. The
package store brought pickup truck loads of beer and
alcohol to my barracks and we filled every ice machine
and MWR cooler with alcohol and steaks we got from the
galley, plus hundreds of pound of fish that we had
caught on MWR boat fishing trips, swordfish, Wahoo,
tuna grouper, etc. Many became alcoholics
including myself. I met with a Philippine civilian worker that
did silkscreen T-shirts with victory pictures and
sayings. I bought every T-shirt there was in the ships
store and sold them to everyone on base as a trophy of
our success. I made between 4 and 5 thousand dollars
on t-shirts. Everyone started to call me the T-shirt
man. Another thing was that gays came out of the
closet, and we had 5 different nationalities aboard so
if you were a straight person like myself, you felt
like a minority, Even my girlfriend in the navy would
go out to a secluded beach with the girls and do a
little carpet munching, while I struggled with the
fact that allot of girls became prostitutes and they
were married back home! Some left the island with
thousands of dollars in the bank. One Philippa I knew
made enough to start a drywall and concrete business
back in the Philippines! War was over and I was in shock, so I came home
to Vermont, there is allot more to say but this is
enough for now. If anyone was out there with me they
will remember me as the straight Vermont T-shirt guy.
I hope to hear from someone.I would still love to go
back and see the island. Sincerely,
Michael J. Mason
1990-1991 Kirk Foster = Kirk_foster@live.com Citizenship = USA Service = USMC Outfit = Security
Forces VT_of_a_Swallow =
120 My_Warstory = The
fishing was awesome and the parties were incredible
but nothing could compare to the people that made DG
so great! And yes there is a
nude beach and the most beautiful water. Some of the most
beautiful women in the world have set-foot on Diego
Garcia!
1990-1991
Name = Jim Chesko
submit_by = jchesko@stny.rr.com
Citizenship = USA
Service = USAF
Outfit = 4300th. PBW / 42 MMS Loring AFB
My_Quest = Eternal Bliss!
VT_of_a_Swallow = Carrying coconuts or not?
My_Warstory = Remember living in a tent during a
typhoon....that was interesting! Remember our
BUFFs taking off in a similar storm....that was
freakin' nuts!! Remember loading a SH** Pile of
bombs on our BUFFs and sending them off to the
*formerly* 4th. largest army in the world! Many
memories blurred by the high anxiety and fifths of
Rum!! War is hell!!
27th june 1984 up to 30 th
nov 1992
Name = Kaisynaden C. Pillay (KC)
submit_by = kaisy63@hotmail.com
Citizenship = Mauritian
Other_Country = Mauritian
Service = Contractor
Other_Service = FEBROE & IPAC
Outfit = COMMUNICATION DEPT BOS CONTRACTOR
My_Quest = wants to hear from friends who had known me
.
VT_of_a_Swallow = dont know
My_Warstory = HAD A VERY GOOD TIME ON THE ISLAND.
90-91
Nick Casey = caseycomputerco@gmail.com
Citizenship = USA; Service = USAF; Outfit = 4300 PBW /
42MMS
My_Quest = To Find the Grail
VT_of_a_Swallow = African or European?
My_Warstory = For all of you who were wondering YES WE
CAOUGHT A 9 FT SHARK ON A HAND LINE...... Sgt Brian
Genesi and I were otu at the old pier near tent city
doing some night fishing using some eels we took from
a philipino trap that was out there. We didnt want to
spring $50 for the fishing poles so we bought the
highest test line you could get and used chunks of
coral for weight..... We kept it rolled up with a nut
and bolt setup on some wood from the
ships......Drinking beers like usual we didnt think we
would catch anything unit BAM..... the line started
moving out fast...... Brian was still in his uniform
pants and had his leather gloves..... Anybody who
remembers Brian he was HUGE.... he had to get a waiver
for his weight... he was all muscle.... after about 2
hours of back and forth we got it in to the shore
after a balaning act on the boards.... I found a 2 by
4 and once it was close enough started hitting the
shit out of it....... It was a 9 Foot Nurse Shark... i
ran all the way back to ent city unitl I got someone
to give up an empty cot...... it took 4 of us to bring
it back....... we talked the chow hall guys into
helping us out and We ate some serious ass shark
steaks........ Lots of great memories of DG..... Would
love to go back...... ANybody who remembers me Hit me
back.......
90-91
Jesse Tolliver jessetx2002@yahoo.com
USA
Service = USAF
Outfit = 4300 PBW Comm
My_Quest = Strolling down memory lane
VT_of_a_Swallow = Huh?
My_Warstory = Great site!Reading
the stories brings back some memories.My story is similar to others on here.Lots of drinking, living in
the old GP medium tents, then moving to the air
conditioned tents, crabs, the two week rain storm.Was on the initial crew that
came in rght before the bombers from Loring. Tent city
wasn’t even built yet, so the first few nights we
slept in various rooms of the main Air Force building.Seemed like we had to move
our cots to a different room every night as they were
sitting up operations in the room we had slept in the
night before.At least we
had AC in that building. I spent a lot of time at the
Expat Club, man that was some good pizza, and drank a
lot of beer there.Also
liked the Seaman’s Club where they also had some good
food.Drink way too much
beer.I think we had the
oldest Air Force truck on the island, a 1978 six pack.Was working the night the
B52 went down, heard the emergency beacon come over
all of our radios, I knew what it was when I heard it.Scammed a return trip back
home through Clark AB, even though SAC had came out
with a policy then that all SAC troops leaving had to
fly a SAC plane out.I
set up my return flight with the MAC Terminal, seems
they didn’t know or care about the SAC policy.While I was out processing
they made me sign a form acknowledging that I would
fly out on a SAC bird.So
I thought to myself I was screwed at that point.Went back a few days later,
after out processing every where else, acting pissed
off saying I had been extended.The
guy pulled out the letter I had signed, contemplated
re-filing it, then threwit
in the trash.A couple of
days later I was on my way to Clark on a 141 from the
MAC terminal. Surprised I didn’t get an Article 15 for
that. To top it off I got to Clark and stayed for a
week, and when I finally got back home said I couldn’t
catch a plane out of Clark.My
boss said, “but we called and found out they had
planes leaving nearly every day”. Again, surprised I
didn’t get an Article 15 for that.But I think they cut me some slack for putting
up with Diego Garcia for 7 months. Although overall I
reallydidn’t mind my
time there. It was almost like being in the PI, minus
the women and the really good times to be had in the
PI.On second thought, it
wasn’t close to anything like the PI.Sure had some fun on Diego though.Wouldn’t mind going back,
but don’t think I would want to stay there for 7
months again, and certainly wouldn’t want to live in a
tent with 11 other guys.
From:
John
Springer
(1986-1988 and 1990-1991)
<johnnyfulvia@tampabay.rr.com>
First, let me compliment
you on your superb site. It is absolutely
fabulous! Your people-finding feature is the best
and I just discovered some folks I hadn't heard
from in years.
Now I am looking for a
couple of old buddies that I lost contact
with. They are STEVE RILEY AND STEVE HAWKINS,
both Navy helo pilots who served on Diego between
1986-87. I would very much appreciate it if
you could put my mesage
in your website. Thanks and keep up the
brilliant work.
90-91 NAME =
JD Hiltner MY QUEST
= To find old friends VT of a
SWALLOW = Upside Down or right side up? E-MAIL =
huskrnsc@yahoo.com SERVICE
= USMC UNIT =
Marine Corp Security Forces MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Want to Drink A Lot, Cheap MY
WARSTORY = Hey folks, thanks for the great site.
My time on the rock was by far the best time in
service. Hash runs, Re Acts, fishing, and just
plain having fun. Have never been to another place
that does it better. I remember Megan Hauss, we
dated for about a month just before she left. I
took the CO's personal vehicle and met her at the
terminal. Caught hell like you wouldnt believe for
that one. But I had to say goodbye so it was worth
it. Even brought her some extra batteries for her
walkman. She sent me a letter shortly afterwards
but I had left the island already so I never
received it. If anyone remembers me you can find
me at the above email.
Sep '90
-Mar '91 NAME =
Rick Carroll MY QUEST
= Find people I worked with there VT of a
SWALLOW = three ways from Sunday E-MAIL =
hmedpt20@yahoo.com NATIONALITY
= american SERVICE
= USAF UNIT =
Eaker AFB Ar /4300TH PBW RANK/RATE/JOB
= E-4 Inactive MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = I remember one night some guys coming
to the tent and saying someone had caught a 9'
shark in the lagoon. I thinking yea right, so i
walk down to the beer tent and sure enough, they
had that sucker laying on a cot and it had to have
hung off the end a good 2'. I remember eating
shish ka bobs at the NCO Club and pizza at the
Ex-Pat Club. I remember all my friends from Loring
AFB that always tried to get me and Dave Mcdonald
to move to Loring. I hope all of you are doing
well and that God has blessed you in the days
since we were there. I too remember the plane
going down. The crew was from Eaker. I had worked
with the gunner back home. He was a ECM troop
before he cross-trained. Again I hope this finds
all of you doing well.
August
1990 - March 1991 (Desert Storm/Shield) NAME =
Joe Ruiz E-MAIL =
joe-joe61@lycos.com NATIONALITY
= White SERVICE
= USAF UNIT =
Personnel Specialist RANK/RATE/JOB
= E4, Buck Sergeant. Inactive, separated in
1994 MY
WARSTORY = I was stationed at Diego for 7 months
during the Desert Shield/Storm time. In
October 1990 I went to Saudi through Bahrain,
Dahran, to Riyadh. I stayed in the barracks
where later, in 1991 some of the miliary enlisted
were killed by a scud missle. I was only in
Saudi for two weeks for training and then back to
Diego.
I
came to know many of the clubs (Expat, Brit club)
and I enjoyed going to the Dari Delight. I
spent a lot of time at the pool and on the beach
and really had a nice tan. Since I worked
the swing shift I was able to sleep in and then
had a lot of time during the day to explore the
island. My friend Danny Wise were stationed
at Minot AFB in North Dakota and many times he and
I would go snorkling.
I
was married at the time and had 3 children.
Upon my return from Diego I had two more, one born
Dec 1991 and another Oct 1994.
While
on Diego, for the first few months my living
quarters were old military Harvest Eagle canvas
tents. Tent City as it was referred.
When the typhoon tore several tents, the military
provided expandable (accordian) style tents.
These were more permanent and provided better
living conditions.
Tent
city was located close to the end of the runway on
the shore of the lagoon. I enjoyed eating at
the Navy galley except it took so long to get
there on the bus. To stop the bus we had to
yell "bus stop" and then driver would stop at the
next designated stop. It took about 30
minutes just to go 6 miles. But the bus went
everywhere.
I
also recall two separate times when the runway was
closed due to a dropped bomb. During that
time we had the B-52's and during Desert Shield,
we had only one plane fatality. 4 soldiers
lost their lives and they were the only DG
casualties during the war.
I
enjoyed being on the island, but I don't believe I
want to go back. The memories are treasured.
mar
1990 jun 1991 NAME =
William Allardyce MY QUEST
= Total Whirled Peas VT of a
SWALLOW = gear up or down? E-MAIL =
william.allardyce@gmail.com NATIONALITY
= US SERVICE
= NAvy UNIT =
NSF AIMD RANK/RATE/JOB
= AMS1 then retired now MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Other MY
WARSTORY = So there I was a First Class Petty
Officer minding my own business when the Senior
Section Leader for The Naval Support Fac tracked
me down and informed me upon his departure I would
be the Senior First Class and entitled to running
the duty section for NSF.
After
pondering the situation for a few moments, I
agreed and thus started my tour as one of the more
hated sailors at NSF because every division had
worked it out that their job was considered Duty
and as a result the sections were very lean with
watches every duty day.
After
a few months and with the backing of the command I
had increased the number of personnel in the duty
section so watches did not come so often but a lot
of people were standing duty who did not before.
So
to all those shipmates I added to the duty section
I say is Ha Ha Ha too bad so sad but duty is good
for your evals
1990-1991 NAME =
Ron Case MY QUEST
= To Be Free VT of a
SWALLOW = as fast as you can spit E-MAIL =
Rcase47724@aol.com NATIONALITY
= AMERICAN SERVICE
= AIR FORCE UNIT =
4300 BOMBWING RANK/RATE/JOB
= SSGT MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Other SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = We got to the ROCK August 1990 each
group teamed up 10 to twelve to a tent so as we
prepared for war I realized that there was two
things to do drink and drink or find something to
do. So every Day I would run 5 miles and record it
and drank too :-) then there was snorkling in the
cove and drank some more. after about four months
in tents we all started to feel like we were on
the rock. our missions went on daily thru out our
tour. We decieded to have a pig roast now you know
Uncle Sam money is no object we had supplies
coming in by ship and there was pig on ice so this
back woods mountain man said he can cook this pig.
We dug a hole since the Island is coral then put
palm leaves and charcoal started the fire and put
the pig in covered the pig so everyone was cocked
and it was time to pull the pig out it was mostle
raw since the coral smothered the fire but eveyone
was eating raw pork now thinking back we should
all be dead. The war started and we went to work
our training paid off when iot was over we found
our selfs going home a lot of us had spouses that
wheer screwing anything in site while we were
stuck on the ROCK. I id get a 500 mile patch for
running, my nick name was the RUNNING MAN
Aug 90
to Mar 91 NAME:
Donald
R. Mattinson E-MAIL:
donald.mattinson@hill.af.mil NATIONALITY:
american SERVICE:
USAF UNIT:
4300 PBW RANK/RATE/JOB:
SrA/TSgt
Active duty MY
INTEREST IN DG IS: Want a Job as Far Away
from My Wife as Possible SUBJECT
OF MY STORY:: Other MY
WARSTORY: Just trying to remember who was
there with me.went there with Loring and 42nd bomb
wing i was a 462 worked back shop while i was
there it was one of the best times of my Air force
career. so if anybody remembers me send me a
e-amil at kdsixpack@comcast.net
Jan 90
- Feb 91 NAME =
David Stender MY QUEST
= One last San Miguel from the Rock VT of a
SWALLOW = Depends on the Showalter Stability Index E-MAIL =
houdakye@yahoo.com NATIONALITY
= American SERVICE
= US Navy UNIT =
Naval Oceanography Command Detachment RANK/RATE/JOB
= Left as an AGAN MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Want to Return When the First
REAL Club Med Opens SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Other MY
WARSTORY = So here we are on final approach to the
runway. Our pilot says that we are about to
land, the engines start to wind down.
Looking out the window, I couldn't see
anything. All of a sudden the plane started
jittering like we had just touched down. I
thought WOW, finally here. Then the plane
dropped suddenly and I swore we just ran off the
end of the island. Come to find out it was
just turbulence, we hadn't even reached the island
yet. Quick
Memories: * San
Miguel - which bottle was going to knock me on my
ass. * Lumpia
- Damned if I can find anyone that makes it better
than the "Peacekeeper". * Diego
Burger - What in the world was that all about. * The
Brit Club - Relax, don't worry about anything,
listen to the tunes, Relax some more. * Chuck
"Silver" Lewis - LCDR on CVN 70, flew in the movie
"Top Gun", stopped by the WX Office on a saturday
to say hey! Definately not some tight ass
hollywood star. T * The
Buff's - Raining hard, one of the KC-135's was
flying doing touch and goes, touched once and slid
off the runway then back on, and took off back
into his pattern. Didn't bother telling anyone
that there was standing water on the runway.
B-52 comes in and touches down and slides off the
runway. My pucker factor increase
greatly. Thought I was going to be breaking
big rock into little rocks. * Cats -
One week there are a bunch, the next most have
disappeared (aka: drowned). * EXPAT
Club - Pinaeapple & Canadian Bacon Pizza, who
knew. * Hash
Runs - HA! HA! HA! Ooah the Scabby! *
Bowling - This is where all the Pros start out. * San
Miguel - I probably haven't mentioned this beer
before. Tastes great out of a milk jug. * Shoe
shining - It's amazing how shiny your shoes become
after they have been lit on fire. * Red
Horse - Whoa horsey! Nice pony. *
Fosters - I met the gentleman a few times. * Mai
Tai's - 15 of these will make you eat popcorn off
the floor. * Marine
Compound - What the hell goes on in that place. * San
Miguel - Embalming Fluid. Doesn't taste all
that bad. *
Greatest Memory: CWO3 Mr. Barber - Partied like no
other officer I met.
1990-1991 NAME =
Thom Craine MY QUEST
= To remember all great people I served with VT of a
SWALLOW = 37.6 feet per second E-MAIL =
viking66@cmaaccess.com NATIONALITY
= American SERVICE
= USN UNIT =
HS-75 RANK/RATE/JOB
= PR1 MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Please Select a Title For Your
Story, or Select 'Other' MY
WARSTORY = Got to Diego on a late flight.
Hooked up with my friend Mike Charbono for the
usual hey glad you are here night of
drinking. I woke up in the bus stop of
downtown DG. I thought I could find my way
back to Splendidville by myself.
The
job was great, wen to the hangar everyday, but
left at lunch if there were no inspections
due. I was able to drink lots and lots at
the Brit club which was
directly across the street for
Splendidville. Not problem stumbling home.
Matt
russ is right about the Toga party. Lots od
MOJO. I remember mixing those cooler with
every kind of liquor we had on our patio and
singing "New York..New
York" at the end of the night.
I
also remember that our C-5 got delayed about 5
times, and that we had put our bags and clothes in
Customs about 1 1/2 weeks before we actually
left. We switched shorts and tshirts with
guys our size, and no...skivvies and socks were
not included.
And
I will always remember when the rear wheel of one
of our Helos busted when it was being put on the
scales. If I am not mistaken, a Chief
actually cried saying "We are never gojng
home"...LOL
Lot of
fun
12/7/90-06/01/91 NAME =
AW1(AW/SW) Matt Russ II MY QUEST
= We seek the Holy Grail VT of a
SWALLOW = Laden or unladen? E-MAIL =
mruss150@sprintpcs.com NATIONALITY
= USA SERVICE
= USN UNIT =
HS-75 Detachment Alpha RANK/RATE/JOB
= AW2 then AW1 now. MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = My Time There is Lost in an
Alcoholic Haze, Help Me Remember! SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = This is a No-Shit Drinking Story MY
WARSTORY = What a way to spend the first Gulf War.
A three helo (SH-3Hs) SAR detachment on Dodge
protecting the island's stash of beer from the
Iraqi Navy. Lived in Splendidville, rode my
bike everywhere, and spent every spare moment on
the beach. I vaguely remember Merchant marine day
and the Vicars and tarts party. We spent the
afternoon drinking Mojo at the Seaman Service
Center. Since the pump had been primed we made two
5 gallon cooler jugs of Mojo, donned togas and
crashed the Vicars and Tarts party at the Brit
Club that evening. Somewhere in the back of my
brain I recall "New York, New York" at closing
time.
1990-1991 NAME =
Scott Jarrett MY QUEST
= To find my old buddies VT of a
SWALLOW = Hell if I know E-MAIL =
sjarrett71@hotmail.com NATIONALITY
= American SERVICE
= USMC UNIT =
MCSF RANK/RATE/JOB
= LCpl/Cpl MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Want to Drink A Lot, Cheap SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = I was a Marine but on the Navy Security
softball team. I remember one evening, my
girl-friend wanted to handcuff me to the bed.
Well, I let her and then realized we did not have
a key. We had to call Navy Security to come uncuff
me. I never lived that down. Go figure...I'm a cop
now and get to play with handcuffs all the time. I
LOVED Diego Garcia and actually extended for 6
months. Anyone that was there with me please
email.
January
1988 To 1999 NAME =
Jean Pierre Ramen "ROBIN" MY QUEST
= keeping in touch with people who mean a great
deal to me, DG Familly VT of a
SWALLOW = jeanpierre.ramen@parabolemaurice.com E-MAIL =
jpr1369@yahoo.com.au NATIONALITY
= Mauritian SERVICE
= civillian UNIT =
Annex 20 Ac/r department bos contractor RANK/RATE/JOB
= Senior Sales Executive MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = 1988, there i was landing on Dg 20 00
pm, still young 18 years old going on a journey
looking for adventure, first night pax terminal to
the barracks
09 sea breeze village, still cool first time
abroad meeting new people had couple of beers and
got to sleep for my first day tomorrow, 05.30 am
my nightmare
began, walk out to the shower room, man what a
shock, surrounded with coconuts trees with
white sands you could barely looked at i say to
myself 'where the hell i am ? second day
visit to ADMIN, Downtown, Shipstore, Community
bank, and back to Admin, telling my story seems
like it was like yesterday, one thing ive learn on
DG is to be patience and very understanding, and
my patience made me stay 10 long years there, I
dont believe it myself, if i have to be grateful
its because of people like MR Bob Streegan, where
i started to work at tyhe TCN Galley, Mr Faye
Parks he was like a dad to me and if im where i am
today its many thanks to Faye Parks, Mr
James Billman transportation Director, and volley
ball coach even his team always loses to our
mauritian team, just kidding, Mr Harry Johnson, Mr
Bruce Norris, Jim Pfiefer, William Marioka, BOB
Butt,and so many more to all those people i say
thanks to all of them, unfortunately we've all
gone our seperate ways but i hope that one day if
we could all be in an island wide picnic it will
be a dream come true, sometimes we do speak about
paradise, but dg is paradise for people who know
they will tell that hell yes paradise of footprint
of freedom white beaches, deep sea fishing like
nowhwre else, my biggest catch a yellow fin 95
lbs, almost 35 mins fight with a damn shark
tailling, party at the BRIT Club, SOUL Night at
the 61 Club, Country night at the turner club,
mojo at the beach house and not forgetting those
mongolian bbqs at the peace keeper Inn, and last
but not least those delicious Pizza at sea breeze
village, i would
like to say a few words for CHARLY of the seamens
club, we cant go to the seamens club without
saying hi to charly. To all
the people ive met on DG, NAVY, MARINES, AIR
FORCES, EXPAT, BRITS, PHILIPINOS, Hats off, those
were the time now im back home and would like very
much to keep in touch with people who was
there and who remember me, my name
is Robin Mauritian
volley ball team captain AC /
R Dept Annex 20 my email
is jpr1369@yahoo.com.au
1990-92 NAME =
Erik MY QUEST
= truth VT of a
SWALLOW = E-MAIL =
mantanmail@yahoo.com NATIONALITY
= us SERVICE
= navy UNIT =
Air Traffic Contel RANK/RATE/JOB
= arrived as acan.... left as ac3, was the
controller speaking with the 1 b-52 that crashed,
13 miles of the south tip of the island... the
survivor was the one that overlooked the instument
failure prior to takeoff... MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Interested World Citizen SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = The only "buff",(b-52) to crash during
dessert storm happened on my watch in the
tower....I was working "local" in the tower, it
was bad, the pilot never should have departed! Bad
instrument readings..... When that bird went
down...... secondary explosions...... closed the
beaches.... Above
and beyond that.... SAC secret ops.... "lights
out" B-52 runway straffing/carpet bombing
practice..... WOW!!!!! Airforce
personnel.... running from the south ramp..... I'm
in the tower, "why are you guys running"?? "oh,
well, we dropped a bomb and its counting down"!!
"really?? what is the count?" "ZERO"!!!!!!
Dec 90
- Nov 91 NAME =
Toni Sullivan MY QUEST
= VT of a
SWALLOW = for freakin' ever if it's tequila E-MAIL =
toni.sullivan@bovislendlease.com NATIONALITY
= US SERVICE
= Navy UNIT = RANK/RATE/JOB
= CTT3 - civilian now MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Please Select The Category
That Best Discribes Your Interest in Diego Garcia SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Other MY
WARSTORY = Time on the rock, less than three
days. I know one person. I sat beside
her on the flight from hell. I have no
sponsor. Billeting did not want to give me a
room because I wasn’t on their list. I am
sun burnt. I have not learned to embrace the
humidity nor the heat… I was just coming from
Scotland. It’s New Years Eve Brit Club
’91. The club is over crowded due to
the influx of air force. New Years’ Eve
revelry is definitely in abundance and spirits are
running high. Some folks are a bit too
demanding in their enthusiasm causing me to come
very close to being in a fistfight with a guy
because I don’t want to dance. Two Brits
come and drag him away. That is when I saw
the man that made wild ideas go through my head
and my heart melt. He’s gone now, but…… After
that bumpy start, DG ended up being the most
carefree year of my life (at least the most
carefree after reaching adulthood). It has
been 14 years and I still miss the sun, sand, and
snorkeling. Alas, I will never again have
that beautiful sun kissed look life on the rock
provides.
Salute
to all those that serve!
From:
candice.hoyt@sbcglobal.net To:
easy501@zianet.com Date:
29 Mar 2005, 08:35:55 AM Subject:
Just
wanted
to
say 'THanks' Just
wanted to let those who are on 'The Rock' thanks
for all you do for us! I was there right
before the 'Big One' in 1990. I so miss
it. But you guys over there are still in my
thoughts and always will be till the day I am in
'Eternal Paradise'. Love, Candice NSF
Security USN-Retired
1990-1991 NAME =
jeff johnson MY QUEST
= walk down memory lane VT of a
SWALLOW = red horse E-MAIL =
jeffjohn67@yahoo.com NATIONALITY
= american SERVICE
= navy UNIT =
navcomsta RANK/RATE/JOB
= i was a ynsr working in capt's admin MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = My Time There is Lost in an
Alcoholic Haze, Help Me Remember! SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = There I Was, Passed Out on The
Beach MY
WARSTORY = actually i was passed out in the middle
of the road. there was a brit named "kevin"
that helped me to my barracks with no trouble
thanks "k". anyway i left DG for san diego,
spent the rest of my time onboard the USS DIXON. i
sure miss the red horse inn.
August
1990 - April 1991 NAME =
Gary McGinnis MY QUEST
= I seek the biggest seashell. VT of a
SWALLOW = Depends on whether its coming or going. E-MAIL =
coffeemug4@msn.com NATIONALITY
= American SERVICE
= USAF UNIT =
4500 PBW/ 15 AF, March AFB RANK/RATE/JOB
= TSgt, 17 years/Medic-ambulance driver-public
health tech.(Retired) MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Want to Return When the First
REAL Club Med Opens SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = This was in Aug 1990, when I was
deployed was only given a 5 hour notice to pack
for a 30 day stay. So I packed, kissed the
wife and my children good bye, was rushed through
the deployment area, put on a KC-135 and whisked
off Castle AFB, where we assembled our gear for 30
days, given undisclosed location orders put on a
KC-10 and flew to Anderson AFB for an overnight
stay, then off for another 12 hour flight to
DG. Was sitting up in the cockpit of the
plane talking to one of my flight crew buddies
when the auto pilot of the plane started on its
descend I asked what was happening, he said we are
preparing to land, I asked where? he pointed out
to the ocean and said there. Couldn't see
anything except for water, told him he was
crazy. So when we finally landed it was in
the middle of the night, so we were shielded from
the reality of where we were until the next
morning. We got up the next day to total
mass confusion and finding out that it was Diego
Garcia. But the Air Force base was still
being built. Found out they were still
building the clinic and the dinning hall on the
Air Force side and we were to work with the Navy
medic's. My first introduction to the Navy
was a nightmare and continued for nine
months. But the Air Force had an awesome
wing commander in Col. Burke. Found out all
about chits and the Navy class of rank.
Chiefs can't eat with officers and a bunch of
other weird stuff the Navy does. But
met up with a couple of Navy medic chiefs that
wasn't the norm. They took this TSgt under
their wing, taught me how to sail, the finer art
of snorkeling and how not to get burnt under the
scorching sun that was always present. Once
the AF Dinning hall was built invited these 2
chiefs out to dine with the Air Force. We
ate good, had steak and shrimp flown in almost
every day. Had fresh eggs and a host of all
sort of excellent meals. There at times had
to restrict my diet to one meal a day and still
managed to gain 40 pounds while I was deployed.
But I received a letter of Commendation from the
Navy commander when I assisted in the rescue of a
crew of the B-52 that went down about 40 miles
from DG. Received a Air Force Commendation
medal were I took part in the rescue of a
crewmember that had collapsed in the ready
room. We hustled her out of the ready room
and onto a Navy transport in less than 30 minutes
for an emergency flight to Singapore. Found
out later that saved her life, because she was
hemorrhaging and was losing a lot of blood.
Took
part in several in flight emergencies when the B52
went to war, all of the emergencies were hung
ordinance which was exciting see these huge Buffs
landing with one swinging 1,000 pounder under a
wing, while sitting parked in an ambulance with
fire trucks on both sides of us and fully loaded
tankers and bombers around us.
Went
on a rescue operation, some idiot got a sail boat
stuck on a small island, didn't know how to
sail. Treated a lot of sun burn and
dehydration during the day. Played a lot of
poker at night with the pilots, doctors, and other
medics. The clinic tent was air conditioned
and we set up a bar and table at one end of the
tent, and had our sleeping quarters st the other
end of the tent.
Survived
a tropical storm is what the Navy called it.
This particular storm blew down most of the tents
in our end of the island. What we got as
replacements were these long semi hardened
structures that were air conditioned. So
life turned pretty good after that. Got
hooked on Rum and Dr. Pepper mix. With
everything being so cheap, we would buy a gallon
of rum and 8 cases of Dr. Pepper and this would
last a week.
Anyway
back to DG and what it meant to me. Having spent 9
months on DG was a very eventful deployments. No
A/C for the first 2 1/2 months, coconut crabs
under your cot, coral sand every where, a 2 week
period of non-stop rain, 12 hour shifts followed
by 6 hours drinking, unbelievable snorkeling,
sailing lessons, boat rentals, bike repairs, beach
combing were no man has combed before, endless
walks on the beach, breaking the no-swim zone
rules ocean side, rumors of woman sightings,
eating unlimited amounts of steaks, tossing dead
crabs into the jungle to rid the tent area of
flies, (couldn't kill the crabs because they were
protected by the British), running over the crabs
on our ambulance runs (by accident), searching for
ice for happy hour, going out with the Marines
acting as their medic on their patrols, clearing
out the ships store of goods, catching the
downtown bus, watching British subs dock, touring
missile battle cruisers that were docked. Anyway,
we bombed the crap out of Saddam and his war
machine and went home after 8 months, back to my
lovely wife and great children. DG has left an
impression on me that I will never forget. A
beautiful place with white beaches and deep blue
ocean.
1990-1995
and 1999-2000 NAME =
Allen Willey MY QUEST
= Spread the Truth VT of a
SWALLOW = African or European? E-MAIL =
aswilley@aol.com NATIONALITY
= U.S. of Hey SERVICE
= USAF UNIT =
Det 8 AFSPC RANK/RATE/JOB
= Defense Contractor for Ford and Loral Aerospace,
Crypto Manager for all three Air Force tracking
stations on the island from 1993 to 1995. MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = In 1973 I was an E-5 at RAF
Chicksands. I was going through a divorce
and was living in the NCO barracks. One
night a little two -striper who had been on
station only a few months came to my room and said
the first shirt had just raped her. He was
married, but his wife had gone back to the
states. She was hysterical, laughing and
crying at the same time. They had been
taking a class together and he had suggested a
study period in his room, just two floors above my
room. I took her to the clinic and they did
the rape protocol on her. The guy got 6
months at Leavenworth, busted to staff and a bad
discharge.
But
for my troubles, I lost my security clearance and
was shunned by the whole base for the rest of my
tour. My supervisor said "RHIP, old boy",
and his friends were shocked that I would ruin his
career for such a little thing. So I wasn't
suprised at the latest rape scandal at the academy
last year, and I won't be suprised at the next
one.
march
90 to march 91 NAME =
will MY QUEST
= life laughter and happiness VT of a
SWALLOW = E-MAIL =
williamsb_j@hotmail.com NATIONALITY
= usa SERVICE
= USMC UNIT =
SF CO RANK/RATE/JOB
= Lcpl then, civ now MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = There I Was, Passed Out in the Club MY
WARSTORY = did pass out at the bus stop in front
of the brit club; last thing i remember was
drinking crown royal in the surf w/ some seabees
in broad daylight. eyeballs and junie found me
there in the dark. platoon sgt called the duty to
pick me up, tried to get away, but they got me
back to the barracks. jumped out my window,
'borrowed a bike from the navy barracks, rode back
to the club. the powers that be figured if i
could ride a bike there, i could stay.
passed out at the outdoor movie theater once.
loved the awesome snorkeling w/ the navy divers,
drinking at turtle cove in the water, floating the
empty bottles down the line and amiss floats
a big ol turd down the line! humping the
fucking asphalt! hash runs! drinking shit out of a
mop bucket late night at the stables!
drinking screwdrivers till we're fucking retarded.
puking screwdrivers about 3 miles into a 7 mile
jungle run. dj'ing at the club w/ eyeballs and
playin whatever we wanted. daring h.i. he couldn't
drink 20 shots of liquor, which he did, and then
closed down the head in the club pukin it all back
up! partying w/ the brit marines after their
b-day celebration, waking up covered in shaving
cream and lots of bald spots, going for noon chow
and seeing half naked fully drunk brits still at
it cruisin around in their landrovers. fighting
brit submariners after they spent their entire
night at the brit club naked from the waist down
and decided it was a good idea to insult my
manhood. traded punches from the bus stop in front
of the brit club to the fire station before NSF
and BIOT police rolled up. the brits saved my ass
by insisting on takning control of me, and
returning my drunk ass to the barracks w/ a stern
warning not to go back out... very cool. NSF had
big hardons to lock my jarhead ass up!
getting so tore up at the brit club(thanks stew!)
that olmstead and i could only stand by leaning on
each other. mountains of porn mags!
not much use chasing tail there! actually
did get laid accidently. big nick pulling
the tv and vcr into the head to beat off.
finding weir standing in the showier in full gear
w/a poncho on..."im testing the poncho".
getting puked on at the brit club toga party by
bunny, getting puked on at the eclub by a really
cute, really drunk girl i met at asap, vasap,
whatever the week long 'rehab' thing was on the
island. pulling a fire alarm at a navy
barracks. painting the entire firehouse for
said fire alarm pulling. playing football in the
flooded courtyard of the barracks. seeing
the huge sky... beautiful sunsets. someone
always pissing in their wall locker, corner of the
room, any where but in the head. fucking
sunburns! ill probably develop skin
cancer! drinking all night and going out on
a fishing boat as a 'traing day'; about 5
guys fished, everyone drank. whats up
cutler, amiss, junie, eyeballs, stew, weir! anyone
else there 90-91, drop me a line! nice
website!
Subject:
DG
menu Date:
Wed,
8 Dec 2004 13:49:23 -0800 From:
"Gary
Willman" <gavocados@adelphia.net>
Hey
Ted, I was starting to worry about you. Welcome
back; head and all. Attached is a menu for the CPO
club take out and delivery in 1996.
The prices are like something out of the 1920
sears catalog. I pretty much lived of what you see
here,as did allot of folks on island. If you can
use it on your site, do it. If not its still funny
to look at. As a side note, I'm sure you are aware
that I am the researcher and developer
of the Rum and Coke Cheeseburger Diet. You can
drink all the rum and coke you want throughout the
day (you may substitute with any
alcohol drink or beer) and have a
cheeseburger at or around midnight each day. I
personally went from 210lbs to 186lbs in just 3 months!
DISCLAIMER:
NOT
RECOMMENDED FOR PERIODS OF OVER ONE YEAR.
Thanks for what you have done and what your doing
over there now Ted. [see his 1996 entry to
see the menu!]
Gary
Willman AWCS USN
(ret) 1990-1991
and 1996-1997
Aug 90
- Nov 90, Then again July 91-July92 NAME =
Joe MacConnell "MAC" MY QUEST
= To find long lost Friends and Drinking Buddys VT of a
SWALLOW = Wide out and real fast. E-MAIL =
MHLPres@aol.com NATIONALITY
= American SERVICE
= USN UNIT =
"ASWOC" PATWINGONE RANK/RATE/JOB
= Out of the Navy, Married and Living in Maine. MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = Well where do we begin. Do you remember
the great softball games we used to have on the
island. Where all the girls would come and watch
abunch of drunks play and curse? I do. But then
poor old me got hurt and had to be flown to Cubi
Point in the Phillipines. (hard life to take)Let
me tell you. Then that Dumb Ass "OS" detailer said
i had to go back to the Island for a full tour of
duty since i didn't do the full one year. Well
here i am back in Diego garcia and met my new
Commander Harry P. Bolich "The King" as many of us
know him. (by the way i have talked to him in June
04) Great guy. He used to tell me about the times
he would beat my Dad's ass in High School, But i
told him that the scare on his face was from my
dad and the night Harry meet the Baseball bat.
Again Great Guy. Anyway As Life would have it,
being from the South Jersey (NJ) and Philadelphia
Area I always got what I wanted. I was sitting in
the ASWOC one day and an ET3 walked by (Heather
Frazier) Yea baby, Heather with that hot and sexy
Southern Twang. You know the Y'ALL. And i said to
OS1 Larry Manning and CDR Bolich and DP2 Terry
(Somthing) and PO2 Lloyd Holland that I had to
date that girl. Since we all know that there was a
girl behind every tree on the island. (Meaning not
many). I was told Good Luck. She was like going
out with some guy who was a Small boat guy or
trying to be a Navy Seal, Well being from Philly
Like i was scared. BOO. So i assured the guys I
would get that southern girl. So the Bet was on. I
tried to make the move , she wanted nothing to do
with me and said she was leaving soon and heading
to Guam. I thought So thats only $3.20 a minute
away if we went to the phone center. (remember
those days) where the hell were cell phone when we
needed them. So i needed a little help, and i was
able to get RM3 Vickie (Something) to help, you
remember vickie a very Pretty Black girl and very
tall. Kinda looked like Witney Houston. (By the
way she married AK1 KUKAHIKO now WO2 KUKAHIKO and
had kids). So anyway Vickie was able to help me
and my cause. So now Heather was to meet me in the
ASWOC personel lounge, for those of you who had
access to the Aswoc you too hated that ugly brown
and yellow couch. But there we were sitting and
talking and still she wanted nothing to do with
me. But i found her weak point, Peanut M&M's.
New action plan. So back to the Softball game ,
you know the one where all the girls came to watch
the Drunks play, well there i was playing left
center field, and who was sitting in the stands
talking to the "KING" (Cdr Harry P. Bolich) but
the very one Heather (ET3) Frazier. And man did i
think i was all done, One slip from Cdr's tonge
and MAC Daddy was history before he even got
started. But It wasn't that at all Heather was
acually getting some information about the man
playing Left center field. (for those of you not
following thats me). To make a long story a little
shorter, Mac does it. Heather acually asked me out
on the Bus (remember the Bus rides down DG1) She
invited me to a pajama party being thrown by Nate
and i said yes. But i almost stood her up because
i felt guilty that it was all for a bet. But i
went and i had to tell her and i did. She was very
mad at me and almost told me to go away and leave
her along. Man did i get looks at that date. We
talked for hours after the party infront of her
room which looked over the Deigo Burger. (HMMM
Deigo Burger) I told her the Bet was off and no
money will exchange hands. So she decided to give
me another chance and being a romantic I take her
to the MOVIES. (OUTSIDE) Under the Stars (remember
those days) And to add a little excitment we see
Silents of the Lamb, you see i was hoping see
would get scared. But i pretended i was scared.
During the date everyone was watching and even
commenting about us. One guy who hated me, and I
mean Hated me. Because he liked Heather and he was
asigned to watch heather for her boy friend who
left the island. Thanks for Watching her Buddy. .
We then had dinner at the resturant. Then I made
my move. I said it Yes I told her "I LOVE
YOU", was it Deigo Love that was all over the
island. No this was Fate, yes I said it fate.
Everyone on the island told Heather she was crazy
what about her boyfriend who left the island and
was waiting for her to come home. No MAC just
throw in a wrench and had Heather all mixed up
emotionally. So i said to my self , SELF let her
be, and i did and wait to you hear this. About
1:45am a knock comes on my door. Terry gets up and
answers the door and says MAC its Heather for you.
And then proceeds to ask Heather why MAC? I then
invite her in the room. and we talk while Terry
sleeps. I told her i was not sure why i Love you i
just do. I'm sure i was sounding like a kid in
High school trying to get a girl on the first
date. But it was somthing. She then said to me "I
am CONFUSSED" I told her why, I am here and you
are here and forget all the others. Well folks to
make this story shorter I will get to the end. We
left the island in Nov of 91 after i proposed in
the nice big (i mean Huge showers) we had after a
day at the beach. (yes we had bathing suits on
just getting the sand off). We went to NJ and then
got Married in Delaware small wedding. She went to
Guam and I went back to Deigo Garcia until July
02. Yes we had ups and down. But i assure you all
is well. The year is 2004 and November will make
13 year of Marriage. We are very happy and have a
little one Joey (11) and living in Maine. Heather
works for the US Government (USDA) and i am a
Automotive Dealer Consultant with Clients from DC
to Maine plus some other states. So as you can see
we may be the only two sailers to find LOVE on A
ROCK in the middle of the Indian Ocean. And for
all of those who said it will not last, it is the
Deigo Curse. I say ther may be the Banana
Plantation Curse but we broke it. And if you were
stationed there when we were and would like to get
intouch email us and say hi. We will reply back to
all emails. When i got back to the island in Dec
01 My new roommate was Damon Sauer "The Sing Man".
I know you remember him at Karaoke. And to all our
friends on the island , We hope you all are well
and hope to speak to you again someday. The funny
thing was the number one song when Heather and i
met was "NO THAT WE FOUND LOVE WHAT ARE WE GOING
TO DO WITH IT".. And to Joe and the fishing boat
Thank you for the great times. My 92 lb Tuna and
Mike Barretts (That old "Snapper Head") Hugh
(300lbs I think) Sword fish, but who know we were
all drunk. Yes we all have the great drinking
stories and i could share a few. But this is a
true story and i remember it like yesterday. Take
care.
Nov 90
-Dec 91
NAME
= Dennis John Neylon
MY
QUEST = To seek the Holy Grail
VT
of a SWALLOW = If by terminal, one means final,
zero
E-MAIL
= djneylon_2002@yahoo.com
NATIONALITY
= american
SERVICE
= Navy
UNIT
= NSF Public Affairs/Admin
RANK/RATE/JOB
= Then JO2, did Tropical Times; now civilian,
working for veteran's administration in Detroit MI
MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane
SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell
MY
WARSTORY = I miss Diego.....I came over just after
we got mad at Saddam the first time....CO had me
start the Tropical Times (base newspaper)...I used
Harvard Graphics and WordStar and managed to start
publishing just before the war.....I have fond
memories of mail call, rushing to the Ships Store
after the Santa Juana arrived, sitting on the
beach, dining at Diego Burger II, ice cream at
Tropic Delight, drinking at Seaman's Club,
drinking at Brit Club, drinking at Ex Pat club,
drinking on the beach, drinking at island wide
picnic, drinking period.....I think I drank more
in a year on Diego that I did in six years of
college.....fond memories also of HS75 and their
three departures....Bruce Moody and the band
playing Alice's Restraunt on DG Radio for
Thanksgiving....Capt Check betting me I could quit
smoking (it has now been 12 yrs with only 1
smoke)...going to the chapel re-dedication on
plantation side...watching wedding of the best
freind of my future (now former) wife on DGTV
(didn't know she was best friend of future now
former wife; actually met her and him five years
later)....getting and answering pen pal letter
from former wife....OKAY, let me explain the
future former wife thing THE
FUTURE FORMER WIFE
As
mentioned above, I was NSF Public Affairs.
One of my jobs was to send nice letters to
Mauritians who wrote looking for pen pals that
said I couldn't get them pen pals (it was Brit
policy not to). For some reason, I answered
her letter seeking a Marine or Seabee who was
going to be there a while. I was a
Journalist who was leaving in 2 months. We
started corresponding. It turned out she had
worked there for two years (at O Club and as
housekeeper) and had left about 4/5 months before
I arrived (her name was Marie-Michele
Martin). Anyway in June of '92 we got
engaged, and married (on Mauritius) in April '93
(six weeks after I got off plane and saw her in
person for first time). From Diego, I went
to Norfolk, where I lived when we got married,
then to recruiting support in Detroit.
Things happened, I got out in '98, she became
citizen in '99 (changed name to Beverly Martin),
we got divorced in '00. She works at
comissary at Selfridge ANGB (NE of Detroit). FUNNY
TRUE AND SOMEWHAT SCARY STORY
When
she was on Diego, she dated a Seabee who promised
to get in touch with her when he got back to
states. He never did (imagine that!).
In '96, she was working at Base Exchange at
Selfridge outside Detroit during a Seabee drill
weekend. Who should walk in, but HER
Seabee. She said hello and reminded him who
she was. He was, shall we say,
speechless. She never saw him again.
I'd
love to hear from others with memories......
AUG
1990 - MAR 1991
NAME
= Kevin Shanahan,
MY
QUEST = I seek the heavenly glowing tan that only
DG can give.
VT
of a SWALLOW = American or British ?
E-MAIL
= kevshanahan@yahoo.com
NATIONALITY
= US
SERVICE
= USAF
UNIT
= 4500 PBW/ 43 FMS Loring AFB
RANK/RATE/JOB
= TSgt, 15 year out.
MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Professional Adventurer
Looking For The Ultimate Get Away
SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell
MY
WARSTORY = ...there I was, standing on the tarmac
with a handful of dishevelled Airmen. We had flown
from Loring AFB in northern Maine (occupied
Canada) sent on this flight to "god knows where"
for we were not told our destination until several
hours before we landed on DG. This was Aug 1990,
Saddaam had invaded Kuwait and we were the advance
team sent out on a "30 - 45 day TDY" with B-52
bombers coming behind us. Our CO told us to find a
place to dump our bags for we were now on 12 hour
shifts and the bombers were inbound.
With little to no sleep on our long flight, only
the bright sun shine that DG knows all so well,
the mystery of were we were, along with the
butterflys in our stomachs kept us going. Anyway
long story short, the B-52's came-in and kept
coming, along with the KC-135's. Soon the ramp was
full of aircraft and over the next several months
we flew training missions up till Jan. when we
went to war or as my maintenace officer said "the
ladies are going to the dance" Anyway back
to DG and what it meant to me. Having spent 8
months on DG was perhaps the single most exciting
event in my life. 8 months in a tent, on a cot
with a sleeping bag for a mattress and a single
sheet, no A/C for the first 2 1/2 months. coconut
crabs under your cot, coral sand every where,
coral cuts from the lagoon, a 2 week period
of non-stop rain, 12 hour shifts followed by 6
hours drinking, unbelevable snorkeling, sailing
lessons, boat rentals, bike repairs, beach combing
were no man has combed before, endless walks on
thebeach, breaking the no-swim zone rules ocean
side, rumors of woman sightings, eating decomposed
lettuce in the AF chow hall, nuclear milk from the
philipines (yuk ! )playing stick ball in tent
city, eating unlimited amounts of tuna steaks,
tossing dead crabs into the jungle to rid the tent
area of flys, (don't kill the crabs please)
searching for ice for happy hour, clearing out the
ships store of goods, (the USN personnel must have
hated us) waiting for cable & wireless access,
catching the bus "downtown" was a major event,
watching british subs dock, having the best tan of
my life, watching fights at the brit club,watching
the ground keepers who were covered head-to-toe in
long garb and wondering if they were terrorists.
Anyway, we won the war and went home after 8
months, back to the blowing snows of northern
maine. DG has left an impression on me that I will
never forget. A beautiful place on earth, what a
planet man !
May
1989 thru Sep 1999, 2001, thru 2003 NAME =
George M. Laughlin (YA-HOO) MY QUEST
= Citizenship from some place VT of a
SWALLOW = Below sea level or above?? E-MAIL =
bubblincrude@hotmail.com NATIONALITY
= USA SERVICE
= USN RET UNIT =
IPAC and BJS until 1999, NFCU fm 2001 to 2003 MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = One of my fondest years on Dg was
back when Capt. Check (CO) and CDR Bob
Collard(SUPO), would call me and my buddy,
Flightline Freddie to the O Club so we could drink
for free all night coz the O's could not play
Hosre Collar. That was fun, even when the Marine
XO would climb into the rafters and pour beer on
us. Another grand time was getting with Jack and
the gang and building the Golf Course, then playng
it. There was the two years that BJS golfers would
play the Brit Party every Tuesday. It started out
being a fun once a month deal, for beer and build
your own at the Expac afterward, but with the
wipping that we (BJS) gave the Brits the first
time. The Brit Rep. CDR Gram Niven changed the
program to weekly. We even had a trophy at the
Club House with the weekly score posted. I'd have
to say the we (BJS) won 98% of the time. Grand
times at the course. If anyone wants to complain
at not having a good time on the island for
several years I was the one who brought the EAP
Charter to the island and you missed out. Even
though the EAP turned into the Dave Burges Fan
Club. More stories to come. YA-HOO
1988
May to Jan 17 2000 NAME =
Harry Johnson MY QUEST
= To say Hi to all my old friends still there VT of a
SWALLOW = Who cares E-MAIL =
fuelman808@yahoo.com NATIONALITY
= American UNIT =
Fuels Manager for Febroe, IPAC, BJS, DG21LLC RANK/RATE/JOB
= I'm Ret. Navy E-8 Aviation Boatswan Mate. Worked
with a lot of good people on DG both Military and
Civilian. MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Other MY
WARSTORY = All the years I was there I was happy
and content. I met and fell in love with a very
lovely lady I hired in 1989 and married her in
2000 Feb. 14. We both worked for the Contractors
and she left in 2001 May. I had a heart attack
there in DG. But the great folks at the NSF Clinic
put me on a plane to Singapore and while in route
after take off I Died but the Flight Nurse and
Flight Sergeon brought me back so after three
months of extensive care at Singapore I was
allowed to travel to my home in PI and from there
to the US to continue my care at NNMC Bethesda
Hosp. My wife and I are living in the States now
and hope All is well in DG. Other than Bob Butts I
was the second Old timer still on the Island from
the Febroe Days. That's my story gang and believe
me if I could return to DG doing the same job as I
was doing I would No question about it. Good Luck
to all of you over there. We still have relatives
working on the Island so we are still in contact.
1990-1992 Margaret
Hughes <HughesMA@crane.navy.mil>
I
served on DG from May 1990 - June 1992...I was
extended during Desert Storm at NSF
Security. I lived in BEQ 15, RM 320 (I
think). I am looking for anyone who wants to
keep in contact that was stationed either at NSF
Security on DG or that might have known me during
this time period. I am particularily
interested in any news of David (Scotty) Scott,
who was a Royal Marine that I was very fond of
there. They may contact me at
HughesMA@crane.navy.mil (yes, I am on a Navy base
still...but a DOD Police Officer now). Any
news of anyone writing a book or a DG reunion or
anything like that? Margaret
Hughes aka (Megun Hauss)
Around
1990
NAME
= Joseph Finsterwald
MY
QUEST = To find the grail?
VT
of a SWALLOW = African or European?
E-MAIL
= jfinsterwald@hcri.harvard.edu
NATIONALITY
= USA; SERVICE = USN; UNIT = DDG 15:
USS Berkeley; RANK/RATE/JOB = OS2, got out
after one tour
MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Want to Drink A Lot, Cheap
SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = There I Was, Passed Out on The
Beach
MY
WARSTORY = Cool site. I've been to DG a
couple of times. The last time I was there
was after spending some time off Al Masira and
escorting shipping back and forth through the
Straights of Hormuz. I have hazy memories of
drinking like a fish in the Brit Club and going
snorkeling. I have to say that it was fun to
visit, but Subic was more fun.
1987
thru 1990
NAME
= Mel
MY
QUEST = To Remember 2 aquaintences that died
there.
VT
of a SWALLOW = I ain't know!
E-MAIL
= melv@charleston.net
NATIONALITY
= american; SERVICE = contractor; UNIT = Big
Red
MY
INTEREST
IN DG IS = Want to Drink A Lot, Cheap
SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = This is a No-Shit Fishing Story
MY
WARSTORY = I want to remember 2 friends that
passed away while working at DG in 1988. First, Mr
Lester Jones, who worked for the Base Operating
Support facility contractor; FEBROE. He took
R&R and flew to Clark to be with his
girlfriend. He drank to much Redhorse and ate too
much Pancit, passed out and choked on his own
puke. He was a good friend of mine, my snorkeling
buddy. We shared some dangerous ocean side and
night time snorkeling adventures. The last thing I
said to him was, "Have fun, but Control yourself!"
(I said that a lot back then as if I had any self
control myself.) He never returned to DG. They
packed him out, I never did.
Then
there was Mr. Ramon Chew, a Filipino leadman at
the harbor control center. He suffered a stroke
and died. It took all the ice from all the ice
machines on the Island to keep him cold until they
could arrange a flight back to the PI. From what I
heard FEBROE gave his wife an extra month pay for
her suffering. He was a T.C.N.(Third Country
Nationalist) He earned about 500 dollars per
month, Big Deal!
I
turned 30 at DG, and will never forget the good
times or the bad.
11/90-5/91
and 5/92-11/92 NAME =
Muriel D. Land, YNC, USN, RET E-MAIL =
n/a 2569 Fox Run Rd #5, Wyoming, MI 49509 NATIONALITY
= U.S.; SERVICE = U.S. Navy; UNIT = Patrol
Squadron 4 (during Desert Storm and next
deployemnt); RANK/RATE/JOB = Retired Chief Yeoman MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Stroll Down Memory Lane SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Please Select a Title For Your
Story, or Select 'Other' MY
WARSTORY = While deployed during Desert Storm, my
office window in the hangar looked over the flight
line and I used to watch the B52's take off
serveral times a day on their way to bomb
Iraq. It really was an awesome sight to
see! I loved those B52's! DG was a
unique experience for two deployments. Very
peaceful island with beautiful sunrises and
sunsets. Would like to visit it again but
know that won't happen. All the civilians on
the island bent over backward to accomodate us
during our deployments. Is "Eddie" still
working at the Chief's barracks? I remember
"Carmen" at the beauty shop. Can't beat
those free services!!!
may
90-june91 NAME =
stewart morgan MY QUEST
= to return to dg one day to party once again E-MAIL =
stewmorgan@hotmail.com NATIONALITY
= british(welsh); SERVICE = h.m.royal marines;
UNIT = b.i.o.t. port customs RANK/RATE/JOB
= then a keen,fit,healthy marine,now,mature,not so
fit in fact a bit creaky civilian SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = Actually, I Have a Real Story To
Tell MY
WARSTORY = first it was cutting my foot open
on the coral in the sea by the britclub.
next it was friction burns down below.no,it wasnt
what you were thinking we,d only been on the
island a few days and it was the island
picnic(cant remember which, they were all a blur)
and i got the burns whilst trying to ring that
stupid bell someone had put up the greased palm
tree.serves me right for wearing that dress. then
the coral burns to the knees and elbows playing
football on that lovely smooth pitch. then
it was being stung by either a ray or jellyfish on
my back,then having to drag the sail board to the
shore then ride my bike all theway back into town
to the sickbay of course by now my back had seized
up and i entered the sickbay looking like
quasimodo on speed.then my troubles really
started. the poison had pumped all around my body
and i had prickly heat from hell and it took about
an hour before i calmed down.
but the best was when we went to search the
coastline in our boats for those poor bomber air
crew. whilst a quarter of the way around the
island i had to change my fuel can on the boat.as
i looked up again not realising it the tide had
pushed my boat just inside the surf line and we
were looking at a 20ft wall of water just breaking
over us.after the boat landed on my back i managed
to swim to the surface to see my two crew mates
clambering back onto my rerighted boat.what a
scare but what a relief as noone was seriously
hurt,i guess it wasnt my turn yet. despite
all that dg was the best time i had in my 13 years
service and i miss those damn chickens and donkeys
. farwell
for now anyone who want to e-mail me and remoniss
please do so stew
1990-1991 NAME =
Matt McNew E-MAIL =
mdmcnew@execpc.com NATIONALITY
= American; SERVICE = USAF; UNIT = Jet
engine tech, KC-135R; RANK/RATE/JOB = SSGT MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = Want to Drink A Lot, Cheap SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = This is a No-Shit Drinking Story MY
WARSTORY = I saw a guy rent a sail board, he took
off fast from shore with no training what so ever
on the thing. He kept going and going till he was
out to the small island near the top of the
island. I went and told the guy at the rental
shack, they called out a search boat to go get
him, he would of been stuck out on the island if
it wasn't fr me telling the dude at
the rental shack. Matt
1990-1993 TODD
FERGUSON <stfergus@gdats.com>
What
a relief to find someone other thatn myself who
loved DG. I was stationed there from Sept
1990 - May 1993. Thats right I was there for
a very long time. I was a CTT3 working in
the Classic Wizard project. I was alos the
Command Sponsor Coordinator for about 1.2
years. I have lots of stories but heres one
for you when I decided to stay for my third year,
they gave me a Psych eval. I remember
Pinapple George very well. He got me into
Mtn Biking. Man I love that place.
Pleas keep me in on your club and any info you
might have.
1990-1991 ANDREW
YOUNG <andywgy@ic24.net> [in the photo, Andy rings the bell,
and buys the house a round!] Hi, I'd
really like to join you all and let you know about
my time on DG. I was one of the two Brit
Medics on the Island in june '90- june '91.
I was also the Vet! and part time C&W
tech. Got lots of 'warstories' cos there
happened to be one going up north whilst I was
there!!
Carn't
stop just now but look forward to hearing from you
and reading others stories. Maybe there
might be an opening for Health Minister or
something??!! Bye for now Andy
Young; L.M.A. R.N. (retired)
Hi
Ted here's an addition that I promised. I'll
always remember that early morning on my way down
DG1 to the airport. I was on an early start
0600 at the airport customs due to start a long
day as the BIOT airport customs officer. It was
always a nice drive the sun just coming up and
looking across the lagoon. The ships in the lagoon
were always there full with (well we all know what
they carry) things! But This morning early
in Jan '91 something was missing! THE LAGOON WAS
EMPTY!! Nothing, not even a tug boat! I remember
being told on my first day on the island about the
large civvy ships in the lagoon, " if they ever go
somewhere it will probably be the start of
WWIII". Well this morning they had certainly
dissapeared. I continued on to the airport
relieving the overnight customs officer. On
entering the office I told him that the ships had
gone. He of course didn't believe me,
thinking that I had probably been at the Brit Club
the previous night and had not fully
recovered! But he soon realized that I was
telling the truth when he saw for himself on the
way back to downtown.
Well
of course this was the start of something big up
north! The airport cetainly got busier! but
thats another story.....watch this space!!! Andy
Young B.I.O.T customs officer; LMA '90-'91 (vet
& C&W tech)
90-92 Megun
Hauss <Mahauss@aol.com> or
<tundra1baby@aol.com> Ted:
I am no longer in the Navy still. But, oh
how I miss the "rock". Your website is
the most comprehensive and creative about Diego
Garcia. IT ROCKED!!! I would love so
very much to go back to Diego Garcia. It
looks like it has changed quite a bit since
1990-1992. I had such a blast. Never
did the isolation bother me. Hell, there's
more isolation at sea and I find that very
tranquil. I though it so much fun
apprehending drunken sailors and marines.
Not to say that I didn't do my share of drinking
and carousing. I was only 19 then and away
from Alabama for the first time. I won't
give details,
but I did some things I would never want my
children to do (if I had any). They had just
broken up a prostitution ring right before I got
there. I had fun going on the rib boats with
the Royal Marines and just plain hanging out with
them at the Brit Club and their stables. My
boyfriend was a Brit and use to do customs with
him when the merchant ships pulled in.
During this time their were no navy ships that
pulled into port. Now I here there are some
stationed out of there. There were 800 navy
personnel, 100 marines, a handful of army and
airforce, and 40 total Brits. Desert
Shield/Desert Storm was going on while I was there
and some of the airforce lived in tent city
there. I was awesome being Security.
We were the worst abusers on the island and
pratically got away with anything. Our
shifts weren't as bad as the people at c-site,
r-site, harbor ops, etc. The only thing is
we had to wear cammies and couldn't cut them off
like people were doing their dungarees. I
directed traffic in a typhoon and almost got blown
away. My security vehicle almost got hit by
an aircraft making an emergency landing during a
storm. A B-52 went down not far from the
island and I was on the search and resue
team. My time on Diego was both tumoulous
and pure bliss. I dearly miss the people who
served there with me. If anyone remembers me
they can contact me at: mahauss@aol.com or
tundra1baby@aol.com I was known as Megun
Hauss. I look forward to hearing from us
"rockies" soon.
90-91 NAME =
cin MY QUEST
= to laugh with the good times and cry with the
sad memories VT of a
SWALLOW = four feet above the latex paint thinner
table E-MAIL =
cynthbrewbaker@aol.com NATIONALITY
= american; SERVICE = usaf; UNIT = there was only
one wing a decade ago; RANK/RATE/JOB = buck sgt
then MY
INTEREST IN DG IS = My Time There is Lost in an
Alcoholic Haze, Help Me Remember! SUBJECT
OF MY STORY: = I'd Like to Share Precious Memories
of Drinking/Fishing/Snorkeling/Sailing on Diego
Garcia MY
WARSTORY = drinking san miguel wasn't much
different than guam, but those 2 buds that had
been stored in the pi since before the govt
warning labels were required tasted good at the
brit club for 90 cents. I miss hearing "we
will rock you" and a friend of mine learned not to
ring the bell unless you meant it. Words of
advice... You are in for stormy weather if
your chief knows you can't ride a bus seat or
finds out you used your buddy's a3 bag for a
urinal. i enjoyed the acquired taste for red
horse and mo juice at the seamans club and
listening to karoke at the 69 club. friends
were great. i did my job and did it
well. i came to realize why some vietnam
vets learned to drink so well and even more so the
reason for sobriety. There were a few bad
days in 91 at one end of the spectrum and
listening to the desert band, the 25 biot
aniversary and the end of ods party was at the
other. if you were there, you'll
understand. while i was there, i always
thought what a great place to be on vacation but
it would have been better if we didn't have to
work so hard. if you've never been there,
it's worth up to a year away from the states to
check out. Peace.
1990-1991 JAMES C.
HANSES <Dgjimmy3@aol.com> Hey Ted, My name
is James C. Hanses former u.s.m.c., i was there
90-91 during the gulf war, and I would love to
join !!!! I live in bartlett IL. (near chicago)
not far from o'hare air port, so when i'm in my
pool it reminds me of DG when the buff's,141's,
and the C-5", would fly right over our heads.
1989-1993 NAME =
Rod Hobbs <rodhobbs@hotmail.com> NATIONALITY
= U.S.; UNIT = Fire Chief & Director of
Operations (see his
1989 entry)
May
1990 - June 1991 JON
MAMALAKIS <jonmamal@bellsouth.net> What is
Your Quest? Just one Red Horse beer!!! 7rs in
the Navy. Got out. Moved to Louisiana. Got an MBA
and now I run a piece of a bank. Boy! I sure miss
those long lunches on DG with enough time to take
a dip in the lagoon before going back to
work. I didn't know much about the place but
I ended up there and had the time of my life.
1990-1991,
1980
(ship
visit),
1982 (ship visit) CASEY
FITSGERALD <lukylivehi@aol.com> VT of a
SWALLOW = As fast as your throat will process your
spit (I know, I know - I saw the movie!) SERVICE
= USN ... UNIT = NCTS RANK/RATE/JOB
= Made RMC there, currently RMCS with 59 days till
retirement
Diego
Garcia was (no-shit) the coolest place I have been
since joining this caneo club 20 years ago.
I to slipped (further) into the Dodge alcoholic
haze, wore a bra for the first (and last) time,
labored to defend our right to party (and for the
defense of the Pacific during Desert
Shield/Storm), and somehow managed to get an
ex-wife out of the deal :)
Just
wanted to share in the legacy. Would go back
any time again.
1990-1991 STEVEN
J. FORSBERG <sjforsbe@bayou.uh.edu> (Steve
was a two time infiltrator, 1987-88,
and 1990-91 - including all of Desert Shield/Storm
- see his entries for his first tour above).
STEVE: Don't forget to send some real war
stories for 90-91!
1990-1991 DAN
BEHRINGER <dbehringer@pdq.com> What is
Your Quest? Continue making more money than I ever
dreamed of in the Navy (about $16.00/day) What is
the Terminal Velocity of a Swallow? Assuming
terminal means the end then velocity = 0 [Editor's
Note: A very clever answer!] Had a
blast at DG. I was probably the only person to
ever catch so much air windsurfing there that I
broke my leg. LITERALLY. I miss the cheap booze,
all night parties, the great air conditioning in
my room, and the barber chair. To all future
and present residents you don't know how lucky you
are. Great site. I have a ton of pictures
including some underwater shots. Someday I
hope to find the time to scan them.
This story was lifted (with
permission) from Esprit
de
Corps.com. Many thanks to them for
letting me put it here.
Part I:The Deployment
The summer of 1990 in
Caribou was turning out to be a good one. I was a
B-52 copilot stationed at Loring AFB and it was soon
to be my time to upgrade to the left (Pilot)
seat; I was on top of my game! The 42d Bomb Wing was
Strategic Air Command's Conventional Wing, and
instead of hours of Alert duty, we routinely
deployed overseas for varied and unique missions to
Europe and Asia. By virtue of our
performance on the last Operational Readiness
Inspection, my crew received several 'incentives':
we had just returned from a short trip to the Azores
followed immediately by an invitation to the Gander,
Newfoundland air show, where we were treated like
royalty. To cap it all off, my college roommate, his
wife, and new baby made a trip from Colorado to
visit his parents (who lived about two hours' drive
south) and phoned me to see if I could cut away for
a weekend to see them. What a fateful day it
turned out to be. As we hiked around the local woods
on Sunday and caught up on old times, Saddam
Hussein's tanks drove into Kuwait. By evening all
the TV stations were carrying the story as their
headline. As we sat transfixed in front of the
television set, everyone began asking if I might
have to ship out in response to the invasion.
I had been in the unit for a few years and had seen
crises come and go. At the time I figured that there
was no way we'd be off to do battle: there would be
some political posturing followed by some deals and
a new status quo, and life would continue. How wrong I was. I
returned to my apartment that night as normal, but
when I showed up to work on Monday morning my world
was changed. The planned schedule was
suddenly preempted by current intelligence briefings
on Iraq and its military. The next day was more of
the same, but this time the 42d Bomb Wing Commander,
Colonel Terry Burke, started talking about some
deployment orders that might be cut should the Air
Staff elect to execute a contingency plan they had
been formulating. All the B-52s on the ramp suddenly
started sprouting external racks bristling with M117
750-lb bombs and each was loaded with 2400 rds of
50-cal for the four guns in the tail, a decided
departure from the "clean" configuration we flew for
training missions. By Wednesday planning had
reached the advanced stages. We were cut loose early
to pack up for a planned 30 day stay on a little
island nobody had ever heard of called Diego Garcia.
This little island (Elevation: 7 feet) in the
central Indian Ocean was to become our new home for
the next 9 months. The next day we were gone. We topped off on the way
out with CONUS-based tankers and headed straight out
across the Atlantic, carrying as much ordnance as we
could, and picked up our first set of tankers from
the Azores. Tankers are probably the most
undervalued resource in the Air Force: it's a job
without a lot of excitement and high turnover, but
when the mission needs to get done they're the first
to get tasked… and we never seem to have enough of
them. The tankers formed an air bridge across the
Atlantic for the next several weeks, "dragging
fighters across the pond", and allowed the aerial
armada to assemble in Southwest Asia. Much of the
refueling was in the bad weather typical of late
summer in the Atlantic. My hat's off to the work
those guys did, but I'll get to the coup de grace
later. With full fuel tanks we
flew over Gibraltar (avoiding overflight of any
single nation) and across the Med. By this time it
was the middle of the night. We crossed over the
Suez in the wee hours of the morning and began to
refuel yet again at sun-up, running down the middle
of the Red Sea, since both Saudi Arabia and Egypt
had refused overflight diplomatic clearances. As we
cycled on and off the boom we were informed that
Yemen (Iraqi sympathizers) was intending to scramble
fighters to shoot us down and we were then cleared
into Saudi airspace followed by an exit clearance
into oceanic airspace over Oman. Needless to say,
the refueling was terminated, and we were left short
on gas but able to look at the vast expanse of Saudi
desert for the first time from 30,000 feet. The
sight was daunting: hazy, hot desert from horizon to
horizon, even at altitude. Later we would fly over
other areas of the peninsula where the Saudis have
made efforts at reclaiming the desert, and their
achievements are remarkable when one considers just
how vast that desert is. The rest of the mission was
uneventful: we exited and proceeded southbound over
2,000 miles of equally barren ocean, until we
arrived at Diego -- light on fuel and more than a
little apprehensive about what was to come.
Part II: Diego
Diego Garcia, a Navy
logistical base located on an island in the British
Indian Ocean Territory, was chosen as our deployment
base because of its security and remoteness. The
B-52 was the most highly feared weapons system we
had in Vietnam. Its association with nuclear weapons
and general ability to carry a lot of weapons give
it a terrible (used in the original sense of the
word: ability to produce terror) reputation. Stories
of B-52 raids that made the earth shake or destroyed
everything for miles but a few survivors bleeding
from the ears due to concussion are a dime a dozen.
So prudence dictated that we be prepositioned close
enough to be able to fight, but not so close as to
complicate diplomatic negotiations among our Arab
Gulf alliance partners. That was just as well for
us, since there was plenty of fun things to do on
the island. We whiled away our days fishing for tuna
and marlin, sailing, windsurfing, began a daily
ritual of racquetball and fielded teams to augment
the Navy's intramural softball league in the
evenings. At night, there was always a poker game
going, but you probably won't recognize the games:
'Blind Baseball', 'Blood and Guts',
Low-In-the-Hole/Roll-Your-Own', and others not PC
enough to print*. Suffice to say that if you joined
the game without knowing the rules you were very
foolish indeed. You had to do something to avoid
island fever and vent the frustrations of sitting,
sitting, sitting on a rock in the middle of the
ocean waiting for Saddam to either move or blink. We established two basic
flight profiles to stay proficient in the airplane.
The first was a local training profile that
practiced air refueling with Diego-based tankers, a
mock bomb run on an uninhabited island, and pattern
work to keep crews proficient at landing the
aircraft. The second was a profile
designed to familiarize crews with the nuances of
flying over the Saudi terrain. This involved flying
up over the peninsula to enter various low level
routes, culminating in scored practice releases on
Saudi ranges. This profile was modified in the days
immediately preceding the war (when we had a
preponderance of airpower), to include mock runs at
the border. Initially, we flew both
profiles as we would any training mission, but crews
were swift to personalize the missions. We tried to
answer all those questions we should have had
answered long ago: Can we make release parameters on
6 or 7 engines low level in this heat with all that
extra drag on the wings? What is the best way to
make a formation airspeed change radio silent? How
hard is it to see this airplane at night with the
lights off? Occasionally we would
have a General swing through to tell us how the was
plan was progressing. Buster Glosson told us how
they expected as high as 30% casualties at one point
for the first night, should it come to pass. Gen
Beckel, 15AF, told us not to test fire the guns, as
they were prone to mechanical breakdowns. We
wondered aloud later whether we would be able to
depend on them in combat. And they weren't sure we'd
be able to get the new Kevlar flak vests (sort of a
torso suit) to protect us from shrapnel. It made us
feel rather 'naked' going into the fight: the
airplane was big enough to withstand most hits, at
least for the crew to survive the impact. Most
losses during Vietnam occurred afterwards, when the
aircraft caught fire (without self-sealing tanks).
It seemed a vote of no-confidence that we were
offered no protection. However, after enough
clamoring (for lack of a better word) and good work by Col Burke,
soon an interim fix arrived: flak vests from
Vietnam. They were the old clamshell armor, but were
much better than nothing. We were told to keep them
(which I did: it's still with me). And right before
the War boxes of the Kevlar suits showed up. The
first night (and for most of my missions) I wore
both: I was just small enough to fit with my arms
inside the ejection seat with both vests plus my
survival vest (with pistol, rounds, and various
survival tools, maps, blood chit, and water inside)
on. I figured I was good for almost a 20mm round.** As time passed the war of
words heated up, and the national leadership leaned
towards a first strike. The intelligence folks in
Washington had done a wonderful job of analyzing the
Iraqi infrastructure, and we sent representatives up
to Riyadh to advise the central air planners how
best to use our airplane: we wanted to fly low,
preferably at night, protected by escort fighters
and radar jamming aircraft. The staff returned with
a list of first night targets, and assigned crews to
plan missions against each. I was lucky: my crew,
along with two other senior crews, were to be the
flagship attack. Colonel Burke was going to fly with
the lead crew, and the target was to be a 'milk run'
target: an abandoned dispersal airfield called
Galaysian. I should have known it was too good a
deal; right before the war kicked off Col. Burke was
told to stay put. None of the senior commanders were
allowed to fly, just in case. Some bright staff
officer realized that we had our senior crews flying
against the milk run target, and swapped us to the
real 'back' breaker: As Salman. It was another
dispersal field, but wasn't in the least abandoned.
It was also home to a sector operations center for
the Iraqi air defense, and its location just
happened to be the perfect one to house a rear
echelon army division guarding the southern border. In a couple of final
twists of Fate, we lost a member of the crew and a
Squadron Commander in a personnel shakeup. The
crewmember, our Bombardier (called a Radar
Navigator) cracked under the combined stresses of
Armed Forces Radio and Television Service (AFRTS)
commercials and a wife who was always seeing the
darker side. Diego had AFRTS piped in, and anyone
who has ever seen it realizes that all the regular
TV commercials are a big 'no-no': by airing them the
DoD might be construed as endorsing a particular
product. Instead, they broadcast safety messages,
messages of general interest, and military heritage.
So when this guy turned to 'the tube' for some
respite from his wife telling him how he was going
to get turned to goo, he was bombarded with
commercials about guys that won the Navy Cross
during Pearl Harbor (but ended up paraplegic) or
Marine/Army grunts that saved the unit by dying. I
feel for him, it ended up being just too much. He
turned Conscientious Objector, and they found a
non-combat role for him, then shipped him home.
Captain Bob Fournier was selected to fill the void,
and he did so mightily. Our Squadron Commander
left under less simple conditions. There was a lot
of innuendo surrounding his departure. Mostly it
revolved around 'perceptions of impropriety', and I
won't go into the what or why. It was significant,
however, because it left us essentially leaderless
as a squadron right before the big game. My hat's
off to the man they chose to replace him: Lt. Col.
Logan Kelly. Lt. Col. Kelly was a true leader, just
the type you want under the circumstances. He looked
at his appointment as a Godsend: "There are few
enough men that get to even command a Squadron
during peacetime. And I get to command a Combat
Squadron!" He was a poker player from his days in
Vietnam, and one heck of an aviator (I flew some
missions with him on the wing), who regrettably
passed away a couple of years back with cancer. As the UN deadline of the
16th of January approached and Saddam refused to
back down, they cut all open communications from the
island. Only secure comms was permitted; guys could
no longer even call home. The stage was set - all we
could do was wait. We knew the timeline, so we got
what sleep we could, and as the clock started down
to the go/no-go point we figured we might as well
play a game of cards. Lt. Col. Kelly was notably
absent from this game: the leadership was busy
coordinating with Riyadh waiting for the green
light.
Part III: Combat!
About 4 PM our game was
rudely interrupted as Logan Kelly strode into the
room and started pointing at people: "Six o'clock
bus… Six o'clock bus… Seven o'clock bus… Six o'clock
bus… It's tonight, gentlemen." We threw down our
cards and immediately forgot about the pot, which
between chips and IOUs must have totaled around $200
right about then. C'est la Guerre! I was lucky, I
supposed, to have drawn a 7 PM bus. I'm not sure it
had completely hit me then, for I went back and did
nothing but recheck all my gear for the hour… ammo,
check. Pistol, check, and loaded. Extra clip, check.
Compass, check. And the realization that this could
be it slowly sank in. When my bus came we rode
it to the briefing room. The staff briefed 'the
plan', although it was one we had helped develop and
knew by heart. We'd fly out without filing flight
plans, gas up enroute with a top off once we were
feet dry over Saudi (entering the peninsula over
Oman). Before we got within range of the Iraqi Early
Warning radars we'd drop to low level and blitz
across the border to our target. Each target was to
be serviced by three bombers, hitting in a
choreographed multi-axis attack. Lead and Three were
dropping UK-1000 bombs, a new time-delay weapon
(made by the Brits) that would bury itself in the
dirt and go off sometime in the next 48 hours: a
1,000-lb. land mine. Laced overtop by number two
were CBU-89 Gator mines, antipersonnel and
anti-armor 'minelets' that made it hazardous for
repair crews to search for and find the big bombs.
We'd delouse back across the border and then climb up for the
drone home. Each route was laid out so we'd all hit
our targets within minutes of each other, and cross
into Iraq from several points at about the same
time. We were to be just a few miles behind the lead
wave of fighters enroute to Baghdad and Talil at the
'push'. At some point a thought crossed my mind that
I'd have to look back on this and remember it for
the future, and somehow I KNEW everything would be
alright. Call it Divine Inspiration or whatever you
will, I knew we'd be OK beyond a shadow of a doubt.
I was able to relax and concentrate on the mission. We reviewed the Combat
Search and Rescue plan, made our final coordination
briefs, and rode out to start our preflights. As
luck would have it, my crew was to be the last crew
to take off and the first to recover, and that
stroke of Fate allowed me to witness something I'll
never forget. Despite inter-service rivalries and
the competition that resulted from sticking a bunch
of Air Force fliers at a Navy base, something very
special happened on the ramp that night. As the
aircraft launched one by one, the crew chiefs stayed
out on the ramp rather than go back to their tents.
Navy personnel augmented them until there was a
human chain stretching all the way to the hammerhead
on both sides of the taxiway. They had come to watch
us go fight, not knowing if we'd be coming home. And
as we passed, the last bomber to taxi, whole groups
of them came to attention and gave us a salute. This
was repeated until we were on the runway, and it
made me realize that they were all in for as
sleepless a night as we were. It was the best
expression of human dignity I've ever seen, or ever
expect to see. The cruise up to the
peninsula was uneventful. We lost our primary number
two to a malfunctioning electronic jamming suite; he
elected to RTB and a spare filled in. We completed
our chaff, flare, and arming checks and proceeded to
our Start Descent point. The radios were noisy as
all the evening's 'players' began checking in (and
adding to the radio chatter, a ruse had been cooked
up about a downed aircraft to mask the force
building just South of the border. The Iraqis were
being led to believe that we were all searching for
a downed airplane in Saudi). Just as we started our
descent, the fill-in number two declared that his
radar director for his tail guns had failed, and he
dropped out to RTB. We were left with only two
aircraft, and rather than a razzle-dazzle multi-axis
attack we were down to an extended single axis
delivery. Just enough time for the ack gunners to
wake up. We killed the lights and dropped below
radar, pushed it up, calibrated our terrain
avoidance radar set, then turned it to STANDBY to
minimize emissions. This was to be a night,
seat-of-the-pants sortie. Upstairs at the pilots'
station we wore Night Vision Goggles, and downstairs
the navigators monitored the Low Light TV and IR
cameras. The fight was on! Crossing the
border, we saw a truck with dimmed headlights
heading South. Hoping it hadn't noticed us, we arced
around it and went 'in country.' We saw all kinds of
antiaircraft fire in front of us, but never having
been shot at we never stopped to think that it was
well clear. In point of fact, the fire was coming
from the Basra area and was most likely greeting the
first wave of guys in on Talil airfield. Our turn
would come soon enough. We elected to turn away from
the perceived threat and lean towards the target a
little early; since Two had fallen out we could
afford to close on Lead a little. Things were
quiet right up to the Initial Point of the bomb run,
a scant five minutes later. As Lead passed over the
target and dropped his weapons, a lone AAA gun spat
at him. We knew there were four more gun
emplacements at the target, and we were almost 90
seconds in trail. About 40 seconds later the world
in front of us opened up, with tracers galore from
multiple points. Still almost four miles out from
the target, on the deck, we began defensive jinking
to confound anyone trying to get a bead on us. The
tracers and muzzle flashes were intense enough to
turn night into day, and I took off my goggles. The
Low Light TV camera went to standby; the light had
tripped a feature designed to protect the camera
from damage when flying into direct sunlight. I
started to lower my seat, then elected not to: the
thin aircraft skin would afford little protection
from the volley of shells. The aircraft shuddered as
the weapons fell off, and then we were through the
curtain, unscathed except for a nagging 'Master
Caution' light that had illuminated. Although this
is a normal occurrence when the bomb bay doors are
closed, we momentarily entertained the notion of
Battle Damage. But upon closer examination of the
aircraft systems we realized that we were OK, but
not out of the woods yet. Our target area
egress was supposed to be a wide, sweeping left turn
to a rejoin with us as Lead on the way home. The
turn went OK, but the rejoin part was below
standard: that Iraqi army division messed things up.
We were both going as fast as the BUFF can go (in
this case faster than is prudent) and we just
couldn't catch up. Lead (now in trail as Two) told
us later that several shoulder-fired IR SAMs
were fired at us on the way out, but we were
ignorant of it at the time. What had captivated our
attention was a radar lock-on from a ZSU-23-4, the
modern day equivalent of a flakpanzer. Our
Electronic Warfare Operator, Captain Glenn Traver,
saved the bacon by his expert jamming and timely
chaff. The ZSU fired, but only hit some floating
tinsel foil. They must have lost us at the time,
because the next thing the Iraqis did was to launch
heavy artillery shells with magnesium illuminators:
shells that glow for a long time while the lit
charge slowly descends via parachute. I felt like
Godiva as the light cast a shadow of the airplane on
the ground below, naked for all to see. We must have
been out of range, or they never reacquired us,
because we made the border uneventfully. We slowed,
got our lights on effected a rejoin, then climbed up
into a cloud deck that had moved in off the Gulf.
The next thing we knew strange lights were all
around us in the haze: F-14 Tomcats from the boat
were making sure Iraqi fighters weren't trying to
sneak across intermixed with us in a procedure known
as delousing. As they completed the inspection and
moved off to wait for their next border-crossers, we
collectively breathed a sigh of relief. We were home
safe and sound, and the 'friendlies' had caught us.
Now all we had to do was fly back to Diego.
Part IV: Return With
Honor.
We were the first bomber to land of all those
launched from Diego that night. As the night
progressed, messages began to filter back to the
island that rather than 30% casualties we had zero.
Everyone was coming home, and the overall first
night of the air campaign had dealt the Iraqis a
blow from which they would never recover. We had
done well. One of the bombers even got a 'ground
kill' credit, as an Iraqi fighter taxiing out to
intercept blew up as it taxied over one of the Gator
mines at one of the fields. When we landed,
the same throng of people lined the taxiways to
greet the returning bombers. We were spirited off
the airplane; hands appeared from nowhere to grab
our gear and put it on the crew bus. Bob Fournier
was lifted up to stencil a bomb on the side of the
aircraft, and we were welcomed with much jubilation.
We all felt about a mile tall. I flew several
missions after that one; each is notable in its own
way. Some nights the flak was so intense I felt I
could have walked on it. Some nights I just wanted
to rain bombs down on the enemy, (like the night
Navy Lt Jeffrey Zahn appeared beaten on TV).
None, however, can compare to that first mission,
because of the way it changed us.
John Ritter January 2000
Update: January 2011:
My name is John Ritter,
and I was looking through your site – a walk down
memory lane on this, Veteran’s Day some 19 years
later.
And
– in looking at my time on BOIT, I came across my
story already there – with photo – and a permission
from another site where I’d originally mailed it.
So – from me, the author – feel free to use
that as you will. While I’ll have to re-read
it to make sure I the wisdom of age doesn’t find me
embarrassing myself – it’s a valid story ;)
And – as I’m sure you’re aware – there are plenty
more where that came from (ha!) I can vouch
for cin’s remark about the end of DESERT STORM
spontaneous victory party that broke out at the
O’club – cin, I do “understand.” I
have details about the one-and-only combat O’club
bell – it flew (and rang) as bombs were falling off
the airplane on Feb 14, 1991 (now, as I understand,
polished and engraved on the bell in commemoration).
We were the first B-52 to return to the pattern
AFTER the crash, too – they wouldn’t tell us it was
a bomber until we’d landed, and denied our offer
while still airborne to assist in the search. My most
spectacular memory – and I was hoping someone out
there might have a picture – was the throngs that
came down to the flightline to bid us good luck and
Godspeed as we launched on the first night’s wave.
In another spontaneous effort, folks lined both
sides of the taxiway all the way out from the
parking tarmac to the runway, both sides, and as we
passed folks came to attention and gave us their
salutes. It was amazing… and was repeated on
landing (when we were all in a better mood). So – I guess I’ll
close with congratulations on running a great site!
Want to use something from this site?
See the TERMS
OF
USE. This, and everything else I write and every
photo I produce is copyrighted by Ted A. Morris, Jr.