In the Beginning-
When I joined the US Navy in 1961, after taking the admission tests, I was offered several rating options. At the University of Florida, one of my dorm neighbors had been in the Navy as a Communications Technician. This involved having a Top Secret clearance, because you would be receiving and sending communications from high levels, and you could be stationed anywhere in the world. So I asked for this rate. Too bad, all filled at this time. My second choice was a position involving blimps, since I had ridden on the Goodyear blimp. I was told that blimps were being phased out and no jobs were offered in the blimp fleet. My recruiter asked what I had done in my brief working career, and I told him I had been building electronic panels for commercial aircraft. Thus, we decided that I would be an 'Aviation Electronics Technician', an AT for short. After 3 months at the Boot Camp at Waukegan, Il, all of us new boots grads were sent to the trade school of our rating. At this point in time, the Navy was very fair with the way they assigned your future. The better you did on all of the tests they were constantly giving everyone, the better your chances were of going to your choices of duty. The people who didn't make the grade, were assigned to ships in the various fleets around the world as soon as they graduated boot camp.The fortunate ones headed for school some where. We were all given 2 weeks leave so we could go home, say our goodbyes, then head for our new assignments. I was going to 'A' school in Millington, Tennessee, just north of Memphis. This would give me the training to become an Aviation Electronics Technician, and depending on your scores through the 9 months of training, would determine where your next station was. Another benefit of this location, was that I was only 2 hours away from all of my relatives in Central Arkansas. It would not be a bad life.
After graduating in the top 5 of my class, we were given a list of potential duty stations. When it was my turn to pick, my choices were several different ships and a couple of land bases, or, I could stay in Millington for 30 more days and attend a 'B' school for training as an airborne radio operator. This would involve becoming very proficient at sending and receiving Morse Code. The end results of this training would be assignment to an Early Warning Squadron, flying in EC121 aircraft, better known as a Super Constellation, the triple tail 4 engine aircraft built by Lockheed. So I elected to become a radioman.
In 30 days, again we were offered our choice of duty, again based on our performance. My choices were- 1. VW-1, located in Newfoundland, Canada (Very Cold), 2. VW-2, located on the island of Guam, in the Pacific(In the Middle of Nowhere). 3. VW-4, also known as the Hurricane Hunters, based in Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico (Palm Trees, Sand, Warm). It was not much of a decision since I was from Miam, and had experienced several hurricanes there. Before reporting to our squadrons, all graduates were sent to the Patuxent River Naval Air Station, a little south of Washington DC, in Maryland, for training and survival skills involving the aircraft we would be flying in. So away we went for several weeks of putting out fires and jumping into frigid water and being picked up by helicopters. Finally we were sent to Norfolk, Va, for eventual departure to Puerto Rico and duty in the tropics with the Hurricane Hunters. The Hurricane Hunter duty of 2+ years will be blogged later. Now for the reunion.
About 8 or so years ago, I discovered that there was an organization of former Hurricane Hunters who put out newsletters and held reunions every year. I made contact with several men I had ran with back on the Island and attempted to attend the reunions. Various reasons always came up while I was working in Miami that prevented me from going. However , when I found out that the reunion for 2010 was to be held in Pensacola I made definite plans to go. I always try to be in Houston for Bill's bash over the Labor Day weekend, so I had to find out if going to Pensacola one month later was possible, budget wise. It was, so I made plans. My automobile is 11 years old and has 120,000 miles on it, so my wife prefers that I rent something to save wear and tear on my old vehicle. Who am I to argue? So, on Sept 29th, I pointed my rented Hyundai Sonata south, and set the cruise control on 75 and let her roll.
From Murfreesboro, Tn to Pensacola, Fl is about 450 miles and a little less than 6 hours, if you travel with me. My pit stops are in the NASCAR time range. Gas and Go as fast as the fuel pumps. I arrived in Pensacola around 3:30 and checked into the Super 8, NAS Corry, about 3 miles from the Navy Lodge on base, where most of the others were staying. At 4:30, Bob Lakey called asking my location and condition. While waiting on the call, I had made my first Tullamore Dew with a splash, one of Irelands finest whiskys, and unloaded the automobile. He informed me that everyone that had arrived so far were gathering in Jay Bondgren's room to plan the evening dinner, and that I should proceed to there. He also told me that a drivers license would be required to be shown to the gate personnel in order to get onto the NAS Pensacola property. Upon these instructions, I proceeded to the designated meeting room, where I became re-acquainted Jay Bondgren, ATN-2, J.D.Manion, ATW, Jim (Artie) Safarik, ATW, Bob Lakey, ATN, and Don Cone, plus their respective wives. It had been decided that dinner would be at Landry's Seafood House, in the restaurant district of Pensacola. The dinner was spent renewing and reliving the sea stories that had lain dormant for these 40 something years. It was an enjoyable evening.
On Thursday morning, I had been invited to play golf in the annual Lakey-Manion Tournament at the Perdido Bay Golf Club. Artie rounded out the 4-some. The less said about my golfing skills that day, the better. J.D. edged Bob for the annual bragging rights. After the golf match, we all went back to the Navy Lodge to check in at the VW-4 'Ready Room'. Here we received our reunion packages, with our name card, schedule and various other little goodies. We also picked up our official Hurricane Hunter shirts,if we had ordered any. There were 30-40 Hunters there, drinking beer or sodas and checking name tags to see if they remembered you. That afternoon, a wine and cheese party had been planned at the Officers Club on base. So at 4:30, that's where we all went. This affair consisted of people at tables seating 10, lining up for free beer or wine, and doing the same at the cheese table. We seemed to have formed our group of AT's, since we all seemed to be found at the same table. Dinner that night was to be at Carabas, and it was a fine dinner. About 15 of us ended up doing the dinner thing together every time.
As Friday appeared through my window, I had no early plans. The other guys were going to play golf again, this time on the base, and I had paid extra to attend a 'Beach Party' at 11 AM, somewhere on the base. It was to feature BBQ and Beer, but I had trouble finding it. I was given wrong directions several times, so eventually, I just wrote it off. I decided to head over to Pensacola Beach to see how the white powdery sand was doing with the oil spill. We had seen cleanup crews on the beaches of the base, in their yellow gooney suits, filtering buckets of sand, so I assumed the tourist beaches would share the same fate. I parked myself at the Margaritaville Hotel, ordered oysters and beer, and surveyed the beach. It was perfectly groomed, and not a trace of cleanup anywhere. Only lot's of tourists covered with oil of the suntan variety. You have to admire Jimmy Buffett for taking his beach party philosophy and making Jillions out of it. The hotel was very nice and right on the beach, with his Landshark Landing night club connected next door. I was not missing the VW-4 BBQ at all.
The plan for Friday night dinner was to meet at 6:30 at McGuires Irish Pub, back in the district. I have never seen a pub as large as this one. It was as big inside as a city block, with a lot of little rooms and some big rooms and $1.2 million in one dollar bills stapled to the ceiling throughout the place. It was packed, but they found room for our crew with no waiting. Again, dinner was excellent and everyone had a good time.
The schedule for Saturday called for a Official Hurricane Hunter business meeting at 10 AM at the Nation Museum of Naval Aviation, for the election of officers and deciding where the reunion would be. After the officers were taken care of, and the next reunion site chosen to be held at Branson, Mo., the meeting was adjourned. Our little group had chosen to see the I-Max movie, The Hubble Repair film, so we went across the lobby for that. When the movie was over, we split up. I was going to have lunch, then go on a scheduled tour of the museum. The others had done this before, so they passed on it. When the tour started, the guide was really going into detail about each aircraft, which was well and good if you had several days, but I didn't, so I broke away and did my own tour, taking 100 pictures or so. We had to be at the Museum in our dinner clothes for group pictures at 4:30, dinner and drinks at 5:30, so I had to go back to the Super 8, change, and get back to the Museum. The picture was taken and offered for sale at $50 each. I guess some folks knew enough of the people in the photo to spring for that, but not me. All of the people did not look like they did 40 years ago, well maybe a few, but not enough for me to recognize them in a group picture.
Next came a cash bar and the ever present 10 person tables. We were dining under the static display of the 4 Blue Angel jets, an impressive sight above us. The dinner was OK for catered food, but not what we had been having the previous nights. I had found out very early, that most of my old buddies no longer drank alcohol, or wanted to hear about the good old days in front of their wives, so I bit my tongue and drank alone, with all of them. I had my 62-63 yearbook with me, we passed it around and commented on all of the people who could not comment back. After our goodbyes, we went to our rooms, and most got up early and headed back home.
Some thoughts-
1. Reunions are not what I thought they would be.
2. They should have places that aircrews could sign in
3. Like wise for the different ratings
4. They should distribute a list of all who have checked in. Your best pal could be there, and you might miss him, unless you knew he was going to be there.
5. The scheduled activities were kind of lame, no effort was made to involve people. In fact, if you didn't pay extra, the activities were not for you.
6. The HH Association should make a members list WITH e-mail addresses available if possible. And post on the HH website, so non-members could contact people and maybe get involved.
But, all in all, I had a good time seeing some people that were good buddies at one time. Too many of them weren't there, though.
