This Web page was updated on February 5, 2008 by Terry Hicks
It was mid-December 1968 and I had to fly from Chicago’s O’Hare Field to JFK. There, I was to report to the military-liaison in the International Terminal. Of course it was late at night upon arrival. It always is isn't it? I’m convinced the Army likes to do this to keep you confused, tired, and manageable.
After checking-in, the old "hurry-up-and-wait" thing started all over again. I don’t recall taking-off until 0300 hours or so. A Trans-World Airlines DC-8 was the chariot. We were to fly non-stop to Rome, then for a little layover in Athens. Then change planes to an Ethiopian Airlines Boeing-707, and straight on to Asmara. Oh yeah, we had to change into civilian clothes first!
It was morning when we skirted the southern coast of Spain, then France, me taking pictures through the port-side window. The plane wasn’t full, so maneuvering around inside the cabin for pictures wasn't an issue. I had an old 35-millimeter camera. It is a Jiffy Kodak Series II, Six-20, made in 1934. My dad had it in the Second World War - in the South Pacific. It used 620-film and the eyepiece was broken, showing everything upside-down and backwards. It had two focal settings: nearer than ten-feet, and beyond ten-feet. By a skilled photographer (not me), it sure took great pictures! (The pictures in this piece are from that camera.)
Landing at Rome, around noon their time, all the passengers were able to get off just long enough to see part of the Leonardo da Vinci Fiumicino Airport and get something to eat. The aircraft and passengers, now refueled, took-off again for the Greek AIA (Athens International Airport). The day was a beautiful blue-sky, "Chamber of Commerce" type of day, both in Italy and in Greece!
My Army group laid-over one night in Athens. Well, not really one night. More like seven hours. It wasn’t a bad hotel at all and wish I could remember the name. A recent e-mail from Howard K. said it was the Saronis, or something close. It had a nice view of the Acropolis ("Sacred Rock") with the Parthenon on top. I read somewhere that the Parthenon was built around 450 B.C. as a dedication to Athena Parthenos, the patron goddess of Athens. A great part of it was destroyed around 1686 or so when it was used as an explosives cache during the Ottoman Empire, and didn't survive a seige of the Venetians at the time. Anyway, back to the hotel. The desk-lady was real personable and friendly! Leaving for the airport at around 0730 hours Greek-time, we finally boarded the Ethiopian Airlines Boeing-707 bound for Asmara. I read later that some flights landed in Cairo. Not ours. We where special. Ha!
The flight to Asmara was pretty lengthy. After all, it’s more than half-way down the Red Sea peninsula. I saw the Sudan and Nile River at 34,000 feet. Landing was around noon or so Eritrean-Ethiopian time, which was 10 ˝ hours ahead of Midwest time. The city of Asmara is on top of the 7,700-foot Hamasien plateau and looked to have a dusty-pink atmosphere from the air. Once on the ground, you couldn’t tell it though. Beautiful blue sky! I was told the population of Asmara was around 80,000 people then, and a mix of old-world and 1920s architecture. Looked like a lot of Italians where getting off the plane as well. I read somewhere that the name Ethiopia meant "burned faces" or whatever - in Greek. Reminds me of my face after summers of bailing hay in the midwest!
An Army school bus picked us soldiers up. Yeah. OD in color, 1 ea. Anyway, it took us down a maze of streets, passing many decrepit horse-drawn carts, bicyclists, and speeding autos. I saw an Eritrean lady carrying stuff on her head. I also saw a small girl on the side of a street who was carrying a baby on her back. Had to have been her little brother! Some of the houses looked pretty good for what I had expected. I thought they would be like what there are in Mexico or something. These houses were pink, turquoise, and even some where made of brick. They had a white mortar that gave a pleasant contrast to the darker brick. I was pleasantly surprised! Sometimes there was a wif of something unpleasant in the air. Heck, you out to pull a tour in South Korea during July and August sometime. This was nothin!
After a short while we finally entered the Main Gate of Kagnew Station. Just to the left of us I could see a spire containing a large clock. To the back of us, I could see that the street led down to a traffic-circle. Flowers seemed to bloom everywhere - Bougainvilleas I believe! Even some of the trees had flowers on them! The place had an ere of friendliness to it, and I knew from the start, I would like it here!
A bunch of us were dropped-off in front of Operations Company, called Company A. The building looked like it was in pretty good shape (I found out much later that it had been built in 1966) and had Eritrean/Ethiopian "house-boys" peering out of the main doorway. I knew I was going to like that part, especially since I heard Eritrean/Ethiopians even pulled the Army details. Ah, like KP! Fantastic! The barracks front-side was parallel to a street that had some "on-post" housing across from it - to the east- behind a cyclone fence, and more of the same further down the street. Looked like there was a baseball field a little further to the east, on the other side of these houses.
Another thing I noticed was what seemed to be a bunch of obsolete cars and trucks all over the place. Fiat "Ballila” was on many grills. Cool! I love old cars! I read that "Lancia and Fiat car plants" existed somewhere in Eritrea (maybe Asmara) in the mid-1930s. That was interesting because I thought these relics were imported right from Italy. Also, some guy was driving around in a souped-up white Ford Mustang Fast-back. The engine sounded like it was all "tricked-out." What a place to see this thing! He couldn’t go over 15 MPH on-post if he tried! Another guy had a Dodge 3/4-ton door-less hump-back command-car, or whatever.
I "reported-in" to the orderly room. It was the 18th of December, 1968. The CQ (Charge of Quarters) was the only one there so I gave him a couple-copies of my orders. After looking on a chart and assigning me to a room, he waved to some "house-boy" (Tekli?) who got my linen and bedding. I followed him upstairs to my room and he even helped me unpack, putting my stuff into a real nice, gray plywood, double-door closet-type thing - that even had a couple of drawers on the bottom. He immediately sold me a dozen dark gray, brittle, plastic hangers. (I still have one remaining thirty-five years later) I took a picture through the window of my room, which looked east over across the street, that runs in front of A Company, and towards part of the Post -Housing. The house-boy told me that most G.I.s thought the mess-hall, called MOMs, "not too good" and that practically everybody goes to the "club" to eat - unless it is at the end of the month and they're broke! That's all I needed to know and asked for directions as I started walking. He yelled out “hey, say 'HI' to Bitu for me up there” as I went down the stairs. Just as I cleared the front door of A Company, I took another picture looking east, across the street, towards Post-Housing again. I saw some Eritrean women in and about them. Figured they were "house-girls," much like we had "house-boys" in the barracks.
Sideline: The "house-boys" were paid (by the army) at the end of each monthly Company pay-line. The soldiers shelled-out $2.00 for them and $4.00 to QM laundry. Each single-soldier had an issued meal-card for "Mom's." The "Command-Sponsored" married folks had a "Separate Rations" amount paid into their monthly Army paycheck. The soldiers that brought their wives over without being "Command-Sponsored" (or authorized on their orders) were treated like the single-soldiers and also had an issued meal-card (for MOM's). Unfortunately, there was a potential "gray-area" as far as medical attention for some of the wives. If "Command-Sponsored" they got it, if not, didn't. Led to some problems with the pregnant folks. If I remember correctly, I think the Post Commander intervened in some cases to help out the later category. The Oasis club collected their own "past-dues" at the cashier's window.
Anyway, back to the story. I believe I was heading north, walking up the street. STRATCOM barracks was on the left at the corner, and then to the right, I walked past the Post swimming pool. Looked like some nice young "babes" frequented the place. "Watch out, beggar-brats!" yelled some guy who caught me staring. He was laughing pretty hard! Walking further, passing the Post Commissary and Post Theater on the left, and then the PX on the right. Further down and even with Post HQ, I walked a block over and took a picture of the rear of the Post Chapel, and sitting further to the east, was the dependent school. (I came back a couple of months later and took another picture of the school, this time, with the moon coming up. Pretty disappointing. My camera was old and didn't have F-stops to compensate for the lack of light.) Anyway, I got back onto the main street again and kept walking - finally making it to the end - and took a left into the Oasis Club area. Neat place. There was even a miniature golf-course, Italian barber, and an outside snack-bar!
The Oasis Club was definitely the place to hang out! It was well managed, the Army having "Special-Services" personnel back then - an MOS that didn’t last much longer. An exception was a tall guy there named Ed, who was an assistant manager there. I think he was a 33-whatever TTY technician in Army life. He turned out to be a great guy! (I've heard from him recently and he is retired and doing extremely well.) Directly inside was the cashier’s window where one bought "chit-books." Some five or six “one-armed bandits” lined the opposite wall. These "chit-books" had coupons ranging from five-cents to five-dollars I believe. I learned that the Eritrean waiters were not allowed to handle American-money. Black-market I presume.
I sat down and ordered a turkey-sandwich, french-fries, and a Dr. Pepper to drink. That drink was new to me and tasted much like a cherry-coke back on the block. I think the whole meal cost a whopping forty-five cents, and ten-cents for the drink! This became my favorite meal, especially having extra-gravy put on the fries! The juke box was playing Creedence Clearwater Revival's Proud Mary, composed and sung by J.C. Fogerty.
One thing led to the other and after a few 10-cent Black Label beers, I was beat! There was a good band playing in the back-room too, since it was "Tight-Ass" Tuesday. But, I was still tired from the trip. Beau (an ex-Viet Nam guy I arrived with) and I walked back to the barracks and crashed! Me in Company A, he in Company B.
I spent the first few days in-processing the post. The Post Swimming Pool was on the list and I made a point of bringing my suit along to spend the rest of the afternoons. There were a lot of younger dependent-kids using the pool and some older teenagers. Consequently, I got to know some of them. I believe some of them were Mary, Sharon, and Kathy, and Melvin?. A couple of these gals were dating G.I.'s at the time. It was great to get to know them and this turned out to be a "good thing" later.
I noticed that the buildings around Kagnew all had external pipe fixtures. They were elevated on custom-made scaffolding and were wrapped in white plaster-like material. I learned much later in my military career that these pipes were all water and gas mains that were elevated to make maintenance easier. Better than having to excavate into the ground for them. This was common practice on a lot of Air Force and Army overseas bases. I saw this again fifteen-years later in South Korea and Hawaii.
Back at the barracks, some guy told me that he was around when the latrines were refurbished a year or two before. The Army guys played a trick on the house-boys when they (house-boys) noticed these "weird things" on the wall. The guys told them that those are for washing your hair in. Sure enough, later, they saw one of the house-boys doing just that! Great fun joking back and forth between the house-boys and the soldiers! The truth must have come out later and the house-boy(s) quit doing it! A more accurate story is one I read recently, by one of the earlier commanders of Kagnew. He said that Company A barracks was built in 1966 and modeled after those the Air Force had at Wheelus Air Force Base, Libya. Maybe that is when this urinal head-washing event took place. Must have been when the latrines were new, not refurbished.
Surprisingly, I got word that my security-clearance got "passed" quicker than usual and I had to take the Army shuttle-bus out to Tract-C. Once out of the Kagnew back-gate, I noticed a little hovel-type restaurant on the left. After riding a bit further and looking at the rocky landscape on the right, there appeared to be some Eritreans doing their morning constitutional - out on a slight rocky hill. Some guys told me they always do this in the morning and everyone (the GI's) call this hill "Sh__ Hill."
Anyway, rumbling about four more miles to the west was the 24-hour Operations Center called "Tract-C." This place had the standard “cover-music” going on. I tell you, for the next few months I would hear that song "Spinning Wheel" over and over again over the loud-speakers. Man I hated that song! "You got no money and you got no home... Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel turn." I guess this song was by the group "Blood, Sweat, and Tears"... sung by David Clayton-Thomas. A couple more of his songs were popular at the time like "You've Made Me So Very Happy" and "When I Die."
Getting back to the story, I was assigned to work on SSG Arthur Jones' trick. He was a man on the quiet side. A little moody at times, but I got along with him real well. He was the exact opposite of my trick-chief at Vint Hill. I liked the mission there at Tract-C though and really busted my tail for him - operating one of the busiest positions. This was to pay-off for me later. What also turned out nice was that, at least for my section, we didn't have any "trick-wars," as what I experienced at Shemya many times! I think what made the difference at Kagnew was that there was more to do on off-time. Whereas at Shemya, the only thing to do was the mission, and some folks took it way too serious!
SIDELINE: At kagnew, they split the 24-hour mission into "tricks," and those folks on any one of the four tricks [days, swings, mids, and on break] sometimes were referred to as "trick-trash." We called the folks who worked straight-days "day beggars or brown-baggers!" The trick-chiefs and the other higher ranking sergeants, who were already in for more than one enlistment, were referred to as "Pukes" or "Lifers" by many first-termers. To indirectly refer to an NCO as a "Lifer, Puke, Beggar" was the ultimate. There was a real rift between first-termers and NCO's in this era. The difference in education levels and the lack of respect to the lower ranks was the main contributor in my book. The whole deal sounded like FUBAR [F____ed Up Beyond All Repair] to me!
I got a kick out of the Army in those days (1960s). An NCO (not indicating anyone in particular) could leave and literally "drink" lunch without facing any consequences! A couple-a-times I was guilty myself going to the Oasis Club for an innocent dinner around 8 p.m. and reporting to “mids” rip-roaring drunk! Well, to be more accurate - maybe well lit! But oh, those wee-hours around 0300 or so. Things slowed-down pretty quick by that time and so did the alcohol-content in my body! "Bled" pretty bad! Swore not to do it again - yeah, until the next time! It never affected my job performance though, or my supervisors would have been on to it. I blame it on those 10 cent-chit beer nights at the Oasis!
A couple of days later after meeting my fellow "trick-mates," I bought a 1950s-vintage Fiat from a fellow SP/5 05K named Steve W. Steve was getting pretty "short" in the Army about this time. He drove around a cool-looking British racing-green MG, or was it an Austin? Steve gave me a great-deal on this car - which was to open up a whole new world of exploration for me. It immediately took away the street-boy problem as well! This car was to be the first of three vehicles I was to own while at Kagnew, and they were all worth it! Another buddy of mine, a Texan by the name of SP/5 Jim T, was getting "short" as well and I let him borrow one of my cars periodically so he could get his family in order for ETS. Jim was lots of fun and everyone sure liked him. We lost track of him over the years.
I remember buying new (actually re-capped) tires for this thing at $12.00 a pop. Great tires and never worn out as long as I had the car. They withstood many a hair-pin turn down and up the Massawa Road. Since we didn't get paid much in those days, I bought the two front tires one month and the back two the next. I also picked up a new battery for about $10.00. There was an Italian-owned battery factory not too far from the main gate and they used to refurbish old batteries. I remember the Eritreans that worked there drank a lot of milk - the glass bottles layed all around. That supposedly chased the bad affects of the lead - I think. I ended up spending a lot of money on the economy - on car-related stuff!
Being able to drive was real easy in Eritrea (Ethiopia in those days) as I recall. All you had to do was go downtown and get insurance. You had to make sure the Revenue Stamp was put on the paper so the Ethi-cops wouldn't bother you. That seemed to be it! I didn't even have a valid drivers-license from the States. Just kidding! In Asmara, the lighted intersections had the green light on top, the amber in the middle, and the red at the bottom. Same as the Ethiopian flag colors of that era.
My first trip to the Massawa R&R center was an experience. It was February, 1969, and still "cool" there. A relative term! I took a co-worker with me who didn’t have a car of his own. You always had to sign-out first at the MP shack on-Post, by the HQ Gate. Once down in Massawa, you had to call them back right-away to let the MPs know your party had made it. Yes, it wasn’t advised to travel alone either, but in multi-car convoys. The MPs briefed us on the latest "Shifteh" activity, road conditions, etc. You could get robbed, disrobed, everything. Hate when that happens!
The whole trip to Massawa was roughly 115 "klicks" long - from Kagnew to TTU - give or take. You had to follow the Massawa Road, starting from “JC Point,” (maybe not the real name) on the eastern outskirts of Asmara. This road was a narrow, winding, switch-back filled piece of adventure - full of beautiful vistas and coolness as you descended through and below the mist and clouds. The further down the mountain and the closer you got to the flats west of Massawa, the hotter it got! Always having an ice-filled chest, you could crack open a Black Label beer, and it would be heating up already before you got down the second gulp. No crap
Around eight-klicks from Asmara there was (is) a scenic over-look allowing you to get a picture of a neat Railroad bridge. It passed over a scenic river. This railroad was an Italian engineering marvel and it opened for use in 1911. When completed, this narrow-gauge railroad had 667 curves, 14 arches, 30 tunnels, and 35 bridges. After passing through "Python Valley" and before the "Half-way house," there is a town called Nefasit. Here, the Debre Bizen Monastery is still located to this day - which is supposedly guarded by baboons! It has a six-hundred and fifty-year history! Looking back, I wished I would have taken the time to visit this wonderful place! Many mountain sides were terraced, which must have taken hundreds of years to cultivate.
Every now and then you could see concrete pillars and bases. These where the remains of a 72 kilometer cable apparatus used to carry freight from Massawa up to Asmara - in concert with the narrow-guage railway. The Italian company Ceretti and Tanfini built it from roughly 1936 to 1937, after Mussolini invaded Eritrea (then part of Ethiopia) in 1935. (Source of this information)
A little further down the road there was also, what looked like, a giant white-anchor way off into the distance - perhaps made from painted rocks. It was located way up on the side of a near-by mountain. This was the location of the Ethiopian Naval Academy. Perhaps the rocks are still there. That was to become my personal "mid-way" marker from then on! Further along, you could see various villages situated on hilltops and flat ground.
Once on the flats, I got behind a wild herd of Camels. They wouldn’t get off the road. Just followed it like I was doing! They finally dissipated when we went over a concrete bridge. This bridge was to become a popular "land-mark" for Americans traveling down to Massawa - indicating you were getting closer. Roughly 30 klicks or so. It was built of solid concrete in the 1890s and had engraved on it the words "Ca Custa Lon Ca Custa" which means "Whatever it takes."
Massawa was so hot, it could make a man loose his fear of the Nether World! You knew you were getting close because of the smell. I’m no chemist but when raw sewage hits the hot salt water, a mild biological explosion takes place. It wasn’t pretty! Passing the Massawa airport, I remembered the last trip of Amelia Earhart. She landed at Massawa on 21 June, 1937, then took off for Assab, then on to Karachi (then India). After that, unfortunately dissappeared July 2, 1937, or so, in the South Pacific.
After checking in at TTU (Transportation and Terminal Unit) R&R Center, I went over the causeway and toured the harbor area, got to board a ship out of Singapore, and witnessed the Four Floors of Whores! I didn't participate though. Sorry! I now know a guy who was stationed at Massawa during the early part of World War Two, and he said that place was there back then. I heard some of those African diseases are real bad! Rather, I peaked inside some of the shops and got some of my first Ethiopian money. Smelly copper coins. I also picked up some coins representing other countries as well. Massawa was a treasure trove of 16th-century Ottoman Empire architecture. They held on to it until the Italians came on the scene in the 1880s or so.
Later, I drove out to North Beach with some guys I knew from Kagnew. The afternoon was REALLY hot by that time. I got out of the car and ran across the beach and into the water, the sand being HOT, HOT! Much to my disbelief, the water didn’t get cool until I got at least 200 feet off-shore and dove down. I saw hunddreds of Hermit crabs scurring about the beach, tending to their business. Nuts to this! We all decided to go back to the TTU area again and drinking some cold beers.
From the roof of TTU we could see a better view of Halie Selassie's Massawa Palace. The harbor, just to the right and down the causeway, was impressive to look at for sure! By the way, this causeway and the one leading to the island TTU was located on (from the salt-flats mainland) both were built in the 1890s by an Italian engineer. Anyway, I didn't know it at the time, but this was to become the first of many road-trips to Massawa during my 18 months "in-country." Like I said before, a car really opened up my experience level!
Back up at Kagnew, the only military formation I ever remember participating in, was for President Eisenhower's funeral. I believe he died on the 28th of March, 1969. I remember we were in formation adjacent to the Kagnew Station Head Quarters building, in the parking lot near the Post Chapel. We were in "Kaki's." After a long speech by the Post Commander, the post band played, we saluted, etc. I think we marched back to our respective companies, but I'm not sure. Again, this was the only time I ever remember being in a formation while at Kagnew!
In January, 1969, Asmara had an Exposition Center which was real interesting to visit, but maybe once! I got my first picture of a Camel there. Later in the spring of 1969, Asmara sponsored a Road-rally. They partitioned off some streets and made a race-course out of them. The little Fiat 500's were fun to watch and see crash. The Italian population had a lot to do with this fun event - I'm sure!
Asmara also had an Olive-wood factory. Here, they would produce figurines of just about anything, all made out of, what else, Olive-wood. I still have some African animal figures on my fireplace mantle! I bought a couple of Eritrean ceremonial drums that I have kept as well. These were made obviously for the tourist-trade.
Around this same time I met a guy by the name of Dave and we became inseparable friends. He was a MOS 33 (whatever) teletype-technician assigned to Company B. He got a black and yellow 1930s-style Fiat Ballila, called the "Tijuana Taxi." The "Taxi" was chopped into a pickup-style truck and was fun to tool-around in!
The first thing we did was take a trip to Keren (Cheren), another one of Kagnew’s R&R centers. Keren was around 60 "klicks" (kilometers) to the north and along a scenic black-top road. I read later in a history book that in late 1935, Mussolini named this route his "Imperial Way." There was a nice Italian Truck Farm along the way, about half-way there. At about the same location was a beautiful church-like building that caught my eye. This black-top was not as treacherous as Massawa's but did sport some nice vistas just as well.
I was following the "Taxi" in my mid-50s Fiat car. We thought It would be better to take two cars down instead of just one - in case we had to leave one somewhere. Ha! I came around a corner and heard a thump against my car. I thought it might be some kids off in the rocks having fun. My poor car just got its first paint-job in (probably) twenty-years, and I didn't want to get it messed up! I looked around and didn't see anything. A little further down the road, the same deal happened. I stopped the car and really looked around this time. Again, nothing. I never thought of looking up! Well, there they were, a group of about fourty baboons or so, "chuckin" rocks like they really knew what they were doing. You could tell who their leader was. A big silver-back, aloof, and higher up in the rocks.
I never forgot this event and years later I met a WWII guy who was stationed at Massawa, Gura, and later at (a very early version of) Radio Marina. These dudes must have passed this trait from generation to generation. "The rocks used to bounce off the canvas of the military trucks" he said. I wonder where they learned this? He thought it might have been in the later part of the nineteenth century when the Anglo-Egyptian Army did a number of campaigns throughout the region, especially at the seige of Gura's fort - where hundreds of soldiers got killed. The witnessing baboons must have been scared out of their minds and out of defense, learned how to throw rocks. Just a hunch!
The Keren R&R Center was quieter than Massawa’s TTU. A lot of families went there because of this fact. The Keren R&R Center focused around a really nice Italian Villa located at the base of a (then) Ethiopian Police fort. The Center sported nice grounds and boasted its own wild-life running freely around. Beyond Keren were some flat-areas that featured beautiful vistas which at times offered different types of trees native to the area. Some of the trees seemed to grow out of twisted short trunks that ended in flat tops. I believe they are called Acacia trees.
We visited the Keren Silver Market and I bought some jewelry I thought was nice. A waiter in the restaurant at the Keren R&R center warned me that some of that stuff might be melted down aluminum cans. Well, I had my stuff checked first-thing when I got back up to the Post, and it turned out to be very fine and accurate. Lucky perhaps? On a return trip, I had them make up a brass belt buckle with the ASA patch engraved on it.
There at Keren, I met a dependent-girl by the name of Eileen. She had the prettiest red-blondish hair, which was real curly like mine! She was watching her younger siblings by the pool and swing-set area. Her dad was not military, but a civilian governmental employee in Asmara. Eileen was around 15 years-old, me 20. I tried to impress Dave and her by showing them my infamous "Timex shock-proof, water-proof test." The watch was old and I didn't care. I took the band off and skipped it across the water in the pool. It hit the far-side and exploded! Oh well. What do you expect when you're half-drunk!
Eileen and I established a “careful” relationship, seeing each other on-the-sly for a couple of months - meeting at the Post Library, pool, Tract-A snackbar, etc. She attended the American High School there on Kagnew. Even became a cheerleader for a while.
I was pretty careful with her, knowing the trouble I could get into - not only with the Army, but her parents for that matter. I really did like her company vs. what was available downtown. Eileen’s mom found out about our small relationship eventually but seemed real nice about it. Later, Eileen asked me if I’d take her to her Spring-Prom. I felt kind-a funny about it but decided to go anyway. I met her folks and they seemed receptive to me. Even took our picture and later turned it in to the CID! No, just kidding!
The Prom was simple and that’s where I re-met some of the kids I saw earlier at the pool, while in-processing. The school made arrangements for the Prom to be held in one of the rooms near the PX. Well, I didn’t "hang" with these kids, but Kagnew was such a small post, this only added to my knowing just about everybody! However, come to think of it, I did drive Jim (a soldier) and Mari around on a couple of occasions - so they could have some privacy and some innocent "make-out" time in my back seat. Like I said, that was only a couple of times!
Eileen was a cute, sweet girl and I wished that I had kept up correspondence with her over the years. I saw her down at Massawa and Keren again many times during the next year or so. I sort-of, broke it off with her later in the year. I know she didn’t like that but I was afraid we’d get a little too "chummy," if you know what I mean? If she was older, it would have been different. I didn't want our relationship to turn into that, especially since I saw her mom and family frequently downtown in Menghetti’s Restaurant and the many Italian shops, etc.
Eileen and family left around April of 1970 - I believe her dad getting posted in England. I left a month later, to meet my DEROS (Date of Expected Return from Over Seas) and discharge.
Everyone who was stationed at Kagnew shopped at the Bosh sooner or later. That was an open market that should have been “off-limits” most of the time. I bought an antique Italian lamp there that I still have to this day! Also, a wool 1943 British military jacket, made by Tip Top Tailors in England. It was bagged in moth-balls and in mint-condition! The British inhabited Asmara in the '40s and very early '50s. One day when my buddies and I were "cruisin" close by, we saw three Eritrean men hanging there! That was the first and only time I have ever witnessed anything like that in my life! I take it these guys weren't thieves. Must have been a grim reminder of the civil war between Eritrea and Ethiopia.
There were many instances throughout 1969 and early 1970 that I recall:
In February, 1969, ASA decided that my MOS - 05K, 98 CMF (Career Management Field) - should have the Tract-C NCOIC and staff administer an MOS test to us. This really scared me because I thought my test days were over with at AIT - back at Devens. Well, we all took it and I guess I came out o.k. This was the first and last time for one of these, for me anyway!
Once, my trick had to meet in the back of Company A, just before a swing-shift, in order to brush our teeth with this God-awful bitter-tasting fluoride paste the medics brought over. That was a one-time deal! I found later it was an Army-wide thing in those days.
Pretty funny now, but you could always tell when someone re-enlisted. They'd be driving around in their new VW bug, all $1795 of it. This was a popular car amongst the "lifers" because its price-tag pretty much matched the VRB (Variable Reenlistment Bonus) of the day. There was a VW dealership downtown to boot, which made it pretty convenient for ordering and immediate purchase! I remember this same dealership had a deal going on, where you could order a VW frame and engine, and then order a fiberglass Porsche body to put on it. I think it was the forerunner of the "Bradley GT" that came out a couple of years later in the States - as a kit-car.
One fall evening while working out at Tract-C, things were pretty slow and I was able to leave work for a while - with a couple of my work-mates, to go and have dinner way back at the Oasis Club. After dinner (and getting dark) we were on the Tract-C black top road making our way back to work, when we noticed around six or seven vehicles stopped-dead on the pavement. All I could see ahead was, what looked like, a big mound of freshly cut Wheat, right on the road! I noticed earlier that a bunch of men were harvesting this stuff by hand and hauling it off.
Since this was a lightly-traveled two-way road, some vehicles eventually were able to swerve into the on-coming lane and pass this “mound.” When it was our turn, we “rubber-necked” and noticed that this “mound” was in reality, a wagon, that was loaded so-high with wheat, you couldn’t see it anymore! Also to our surprise, there was a horse hitched to it and it was hanging in the air! The load was so heavy and off-center, the poor horse couldn’t reach the ground.
On another occasion, I remember being told about an American dependent-wife that was standing off a curb as Halie Selassie and entourage passed by. I guess she didn’t get back onto the curb fast enough and was "clubbed" by an Ethiopian cop. She reportedly complained to the Post Commander about it but I’m sure he couldn’t do a thing! I don't know to this day if this was a just rumor or a real event. It must have taken place before I got in-country.
Once a month or so, one would see a large gathering of old Eritrean-Ethiopian men clustered around, what looked like, the Italian Consulate. I stopped one of my favorite street-boys (I used to give him candy and a small amount of money from time to time), and after getting through his usual "hey, gimme wollot" salutation, I asked what that was all about? He said, ”It forrd war pays.” I thought about it for a while wondering what the hell he meant. Then it dawned on me, it must be for some-kind of compensation that the Italians where paying out, for former Eritrian Army veterans. I read somewhere later that these folks were called Ascaro or Ascaris, or fighters who were employed by the Italians from the 1890s through early 1941. Anyway, I hope that is accurate in what this was really all about and not just a bunch of smoke being blown up my butt.
If you bought fruits and vegetables at the various downtown markets, or even at the Post Commissary for that matter, you were advised to soak them first in a few drops of Chlorine bleach/gallon of water mix. That gave them a bad taste, but was necessary. Meningitis was no fun! We all had to get a Gamagobulin-shot before or immediately after coming over. What an experience!
Occasionally, my "trick" would go on “thunder-runs” downtown - especially after going on break after the last swing-shift. Everything was "RBT' this, or "Momma K" that. The bars seemed to be just hole-in-the-walls. You could tell where they were though because they had a small flourescent light above the doorway and always had a bunch of women standing around inside and out - trying to coax you in. Beauty was in the eyes of the beer-holder! With the water-shortage experienced the whole time I was stationed at Kagnew, the whore-thing didn’t smell or appeal to me. Call me a wimp! I was seeing a dependent-girl anyway. I was barely twenty years-old at the time and was more into spending my limited SP4 money on the old Italian cars.
There were some instances where Gherry-cart horses and G.I.s didn't mix well. One incident was witnessed by Bob Gomach, B Company, '66-'67. Bob (Bob's words) was with a "ditty-bopper" named Kunkel, along with "Gross" Mike Powers and "Spook" McKay at the Fiori Bar sometime in 1966 or 1967. From an e-mail I got from him, Bob recalls: "As I remember, the driver was pestering us to take a ride and Kunkel got tired of his shit and the poor horse got nailed right on the nose. He dropped like a ton of bricks, we couldn't believe it. I kind of felt sorry for the poor thing but after a minute or so, he got up no worse for wear. The driver was pretty pissed off and cussed us out good." Bob added, "Hell, it was just another night downtown for us." This is an interesting story from Bob thirty-seven years later and is pretty innocent, but classical stuff to remember Asmara/Kagnew by!
You know, Asmara got off much lighter than towns outside Infantry or Artillery Army posts in Germany, Italy, S. Korea, Viet Nam, and even towns state-side. This is a true scenario with any army, regardless of nationality. Asmara had the "nice guys" stationed there. Remember, there was money to be made from this kind of activity and a lot of local enterprising business men and women laughed all the way to the bank - at all the locations just mentioned!
Anyway, back to 1969, around four in the morning, you could here the "call to prayer" coming from a loudspeaker high in a spinneret - at the big Mosque downtown. This was real interesting to listen to especially in the quiet of the early morning darkness! Anyway, that was our signal to start calling it "a night" and go crash somewhere!
I guess one of the restaurants on main street got “fired-up” by the Italian mafia once. I sure wasn't there.
I liked the way Operations did things out at Tract C, especially on Mids. If your duty section had a surplus of ops, the Trick Chief had the option of giving ATO's (Authorized Time Off), or CTO's (Cumulative Time Off). SSG Jones was real nice to us. Usually ATO's were handed out to those who had the most working hours in, haven't had one for a long while, and were deserving. The lucky operator got the night off. Didn't have to tell me twice. I was out of there!
CTO's were also handed out to those that filled the requirements mentioned above. But, was intended for attending the mid-flick on post, then returning to work afterwards. One Mid I remember getting a CTO, and a bunch of guys I knew from the Message Center got one as well. We all took off in my buddy Ronnie's 1948 Jeepster and saw the Steve McQueen movie "Bullitt." Great flick! The night was real cold. Must have been February or early March, 1969. Sitting in the back of that topless Jeepster, my field jacket wasn't enough. I could see my breath! After the flick and returning to Tract C, I had to get down on the floor behind the front seats for a wind break. I remember looking up at the starry sky, crystal clear and seeing Orion's belt. To this day, when I look up and see Orion, I remember that night in the back of Ronnie's Jeepster. Crazy!
During May of 1969, parts of Company A did the annual weapons-qualification thing again. As my original copy of the roster reads, "17 – 24 May, 1969." For some strange reason, I got picked to be one of the "Deuce" (2 1/2 ton truck) drivers - for my “qual-day" anyway. Previously, I had to attend classes over at the motor-pool (in back of the Top-Five Club) to get an "official" military driver’s license for it. The day came and I made those guys riding in the back pay the price! I performed inadvertent down-shifting, hit every curb, and slammed on the brakes every chance I got. Howie K. warned "I'll make you suffer for this!" He was/is a nice-guy and I don't remember anything reprisive later. In fact, his Uncle was the Governor of Illinois in the 1960s and we had something in common - me being from there! Plus we were the same MOS, 059 (05K), and on the same trick.
Our Rifle Range was way out in the desert somewhere south-east of Kagnew. There were Ethiopian Army troops all over. After the usual M-14 rifle qualification, our Cadre set up a .50 cal. machine gun, since Company A was obviously authorized one on their MTOE. Those who wanted to got a chance to shoot at, what looked like, an out-house - way off in the distance, about 500-yards or so. That was the first time I realized the destructive power of one of those things! Some MP’s came along and shot their .45 cal. “burp” guns as well. This was the first and last time I saw one of those too! We had “C-rats” for chow, and the Cadre gave some Ethiopian Army guys boxes and boxes of the things - out of the back of one of the deuce-and-a-halfs!
By this time, Dave bought a nice yellow Corvair-Monza convertible - in anticipation of his wife finally arriving in (Eritrea) Ethiopia. He had to because the “Taxi” didn’t have a top and rain was always a remote possibility while traveling off the mountain. This Monza was a nice car! I remember one time, Dave had too many passengers coming back from Keren. Without an alternative, I rode the whole way to kagnew riding on the trunk-lid of this thing! Yes, over the hot engine! Hey, I was drunk anyway!
Just before Dave’s wife did arrive, Dave, Ronnie (a good friend from Company B) and I went on a last “bachelor” trip to Keren. We ended up going further past Keren - a lot further! At least fifty-miles out - getting close to the Sudanese border! We eventually came across a concrete viaduct that paralleled a blown-up railroad trestle. The severed tracks over-hung the trestle by quite a few feet. There, in front of God and everybody, was the mummified remains of a Camel! This crazy thing must have been following the tracks and fell in. Dave remarked, "This thing is so ugly, it could drive a freight-train up a dirt road sideways!" I got a picture of it because my work-buddies wouldn’t have believed it otherwise. Sideline: Not known to us at the time, I read later in a history book that this same general area was named "Happy Valley" by the British forces - attacking the entrenched Italians - in roughly a 15-day siege in March, 1941, for the battle of Keren.
On the same trip, but next day and closer to Keren, we got pretty tipsy on a few "Bud-men" and decided to take the Corvair "off-road" and into the "bush" spinning dough-nuts. Well, in Eritrea, some bushes have monstrous thorns. One (about three-inches long!) went into the side-wall of the back tire and ruined it. There we were, miles from nowhere, tipsy, hot, and stranded! We checked the spare and luckily it had just enough air to get us back. Thank God! What looked like some Eritrean teenagers came along, changed the tire for us, and helped push us back onto the asphalt road. We took a breather and for a reward, gave each of them a beer (or maybe it was a soda, can't remember now). We had a beer of course to toast them! The heat made our beer "hit" ASAP! I guess they got bored with us and the last we saw of these guys, they were off running down the road carrying-on like you wouldn’t believe! We got the hell out of there and went back to the R&R center and listened to a bunch of ROLLING STONES tunes. Jumpin Jack Flash, Honky-Tonk Women, and It's Only Rock-N-Roll, but I like it! Oh yeah, Please Allow Me To Introduce Myself, I'm a Man of Wealth and Fame. Not to mention Sympathy For The Devil. These songs are still some of my favorites and bring back a lot of memories!
Dave’s wife, Cindy, finally arrived in Asmara. He rented a nice, but well fortified, Italian-style house not too far east of the back-gate of Tract-A. We all did a lot together and I didn’t stay in the barracks much after this time (had to maintain a legal bunk though) and stayed at his place. Dave provided a more comfortable environment. Even though he had a houseboy named Colotti, and a night-guard, Dave really liked me there just the same! I didn’t blame him. Cindy was always a good-sport though in putting up with all our "shenanigans."
I had a metallic-green, 1938 Lancia-Aprilia by this time, having sold my mid-50s Fiat (called "The Lezzard") to a Japanese-Hawaiian teletype-tech named Danny K. - from Company B. It was a fun-car and I liked to scare Dave and Cindy, especially while driving down to Massawa. The Lancia was a right-hand drive and I could cut the switchbacks and “K” markers real close - being able to see better than the rest of the passengers. I had another one of my bouts of "Asmaraitis" and accidentally farted in the car. Cindy had to open the door and vomit! Hell, I was proud just to pass a little gas without loading my pants!
Sadly, I had a lot of mechanical problems with that car though. It had a four-cylinder engine shaped like a hat-box. It's cylinders were side-by-side, but off-set. I decided not to bring this one back state-side and later got a 1927 Fiat Model 509 pickup truck instead. Back in the states, it eventually ended up on static-display in a 1920s style bar/restaurant in Northern Illinois.
Dave and I constantly talked about buying a motorcycle. Bob Gomach (Company B,'66-'67), who presently ownes a real nice motorcycle shop in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, called "B&R Cycles" (http://www.brcycles.com/index.html), tells the motorcycle-thing best at Kagnew. "In 1966-'67 the 250 Ducatis were popular with us. I bought a new 250 Scrambler and brought it back to the states with me. From what I've seen on Kagnew Websites is that later 350s and 450s were brought over. Honda 305 Scramblers were also popular along with some Yamahas and Suzukis. Guys were also having some new Brit bikes shipped in as I was on my way out."
In late July, 1969, we all heard of our Apollo-11 Astronauts landing on the moon with Neil Armstrong taking the famous “Small Step.” Some of the Eritreans didn't like it because they thought it put "holes" in the sky. A month later was the Rock Concert at Woodstock - at Bethel, NY, occurring along with the news of my only Grandfather passing away. Being in Eritrea, the Army didn't find it necessary for me to take emergency leave. Wasn't considered "immediate" enough family. I went up to the Oasis Club and got plastered.
I came back to my room pretty late and the thought of having to work a "mid" completely escaped me. I crashed on the bunk and the next thing I remembered was the crashing knock on my door by the duty-driver. He was yelling that I had to report to the "head-shed" ASAP! I did, got the chewing out I deserved, and all was at peace again. I have to admit that the trick-NCOIC and his Staff Sergeant A-Slash were pretty nice about it. I knew they remembered doing this stuff themselves. I heard them laughing while I was walking up the hall to my duty-section. (Now-a-days in the Army, you would get one heck of a counseling statement that would go into your temporary personnel file at the company. Could affect future promotion recommendations by the commander!)
I "liberated" a head-set on a "mid." It became my souvenir. I always wanted to do it - from Shemya on. In a corner of my duty-section (NMSD) we had a gray four-drawer file cabinet that had a bunch of junked sets thrown in the bottom drawer. Out of about twenty junkers I made one good one. The one I salvaged must have been a real old one from the late '50s or so because it had been around for a long time, real dirty, plus the ear-pieces were made out of metal vs. plastic. It also had the old fabric-covered cord, vs. the newer rubber-coated ones. I wanted to get the chamois-padded rubber ear-pieces to boot, but couldn't for some reason. On one of the ear pieces it has a manufacturer decal that says: ALNICO Magnetic Model 75 by C.P. Cannon Co. of Springwater, NY. I have the head-set to this day, for a radio I have gerry-rigged in my restored 1947 Willys Jeep.
The fall of 1969 saw me being the Best Man at my supervisors wedding in Asmara. It was a real education for me and I was lucky to have had the opportunity to take part. My Room-sup, a fellow SP/5, married an Eritrean/Italian-mix girl, called a Caffolatti. I believe her name was Maria or something close, and she was real pleasant! Just before the wedding, she and Paul took me to the Catholic Cemetery there in Asmara to see her father’s grave.
It was very interesting to see, the graves being very ornate by U.S. standards. They had a porcelain-likeness of the individual on them. Typically European style. Maria told me that the graves could only be used for a certain number of years because of the lack of space. Then the bones would be exhumed, their further disposition made by the familia, and the plot re-used. If no family or further disposition specified, the bones were placed in a deep, covered pit.
Paul and Maria were married in a Coptic Church, a large yellow stucco one in Asmara. Coptics are Christians who accept the teachings of the (Eritrean) Ethiopian Orthodox Church. I took for granted that Maria was Catholic, but there must have been a reason why the ceremony was not performed in the big Catholic Cathedral downtown.
The ceremony was wonderful! I remember a large brass decanter-like vessel that was suspended on a long chain, swinging from the ceiling. This was full of smoldering incense. The chain must have had a thirty-foot arch! I noticed that some of the women were dressed in, what I called, ethnic (Eritrean) Ethiopian-dress. Some women where in Western-style dress as well. They let out a "trilling" sound when the newly-weds stepped outside the church. Rice was thrown - same as at State-side wedding!
We had a Beef-Zigni dinner afterwards. I had it before. My first time tasting Zigni was months before in some small Eritrean-Ethiopian restaurant. I'm not sure we should have even been in there. "Not authorized" by the Post because of Hepatitis issues! But, it was Chicken-Zigni this time, and the gravy was made from the actual blood of the bird! I noticed some signs through the curtain which one said: "You can't beat my meat!" and another that said "Don't let you meat loaf!" I had a little bit of chicken-zigni and chased it with a Mellotti beer! That was the beer brewed locally in Asmara, Eritrea, and not known as being an “Ethiopian” beer! Too much Mellotti can make you naughty!
Later that night, some street-boys tried to sell us some stuff packaged in, what looked like, a cotton-candy holder. We where walking back to Kagnew and was just before I bought my first car. I never saw any cotton-candy being sold in Eritrea to my knowledge. The holder was conical-shaped and made from a thick brownish paper. I didn’t want any and later, a CID guy told me at the Oasis Club, “it was a good thing you didn’t! That’s the way they sell 'POT' on the street.” "Oh, great" I said!
Paul and Maria left for DROS in January, 1970. Since I was the ranking-SP/5, I took over his former role as "room-sup" on my trick’s NMSDOH room. Yeah, I was a SP/5 by that time!
My roommate, John R., made SP/5 about the same time I did. And a couple of months later, he became Room-Sup of the monster-mission room down at the end of the hall-way. His predecessor got short and PCS’d, ETS’d, or whatever. John was an older guy, probably in his early thirties, and had a hilarious ere about him. Our room back at Company A was always empty and the house-boy assigned to it must have made some easy money on that one. I was always at my buddy Dave’s house. John had a girl-friend down-town.
After John became Room-Sup., he got a lot of harassment from the “troops” because he wasn’t a “Lifer,” just taking on the role to keep peace with our Trick-Chief. On “Mids,” sometimes John would walk around with his field jacket hanging on his left shoulder, Napoleon style. Then he’d look down his nose at those “underlings” that happen to pass by. Everyone got a real laugh every time he did it. John could really put it over! One night the trick-chief told John that he’d have to either “take that field jacket completely off, or put it on and zip it up and button up all the snaps. One or the other! Shine your boots and polish your brass belt buckle while you’re at it. Oh, and get a haircut!” These were always the standard words the “Lifer’s” had for us in those days.
I accumulated some leave-time by December 1969 and decided to take a trip to see other parts of Africa - instead of blowing it on going home. Hell, I’d be back and discharged in seven-months anyway! I decided to go to Nairobi, Kenya and check it out. Then go on to Johannesburg, and Cape Town, South Africa. First, I needed to get orders cut showing that the Army allowed me to go, and get the necessary visa-stamps for my passport. The "Rolling Stones" just came out with a new song: "Gimmie Shelter." Still my favorite now as in 1969!
The trip to Nairobi was on Ethiopian Airlines again. Since the trip took me across the Equator, I got a Certificate. Cool! The Nairobi Airport was surprisingly small, but the city was beautiful in 1969, and I walked around and saw a Monument to the native East-African Troops of World War One, in front of the Kenya Bank building. At that time you could do it safely. At my hotel, one could buy tickets to see the game-preserve, located just outside the city. We went out in mini-vans painted in a black and while Zebra-style scheme. The game-preserve contained Leopards, Baboons, Rhinos, Hippos, Giraffes, you name it. All carousing about in their own natural habitat. I got pictures of it all. No National Geographic-type “topless” village girls though! The next leg to South Africa was on BOAC. The British crew was real nice and the service great!
After landing at Jo’burg, the BOAC staff immediately told us to stay in our seats while they sprayed down the cabin with insect-repellant. Once off the plane, I was stopped by their form of Customs and told that I didn’t have the correct visa-stamp on my passport! There was a heavy-set guy dressed in a white-uniform with shorts with knee socks. He wasn’t playing any games. I got spirited-off to an office where I was allowed to call the American Consulate there in SA. While waiting, a pretty petite mini-skirted staff-member thought she was entertaining me with stories of her parties, indirectly, as she was talking to the other office personnel. I was getting HOT! But, after roughly four-hours, the American Consulate did their "magic" and I was allowed to get on another BOAC flight to Cape Town.
I arrived in Cape Town late in the evening. I always arrive at places late in the evening! I went to a hotel not too far from the airport. Cape Town has flood-lights that light-up Table Mountain - which looked awe-inspiring from a distance! Early the next day, I took a bus into the city and got a room at another hotel, closer to the downtown area. From there I could see Table Mountain again, a flat-topped affair that had clouds boiling over the top. I was to find out later that these clouds are called the "Nor’easter" blowing - common in the winter. I loved the hotel's restaurant. They served fresh-fruit at a reasonable price! The Rand, SA's money, was pretty close in value to the English-Pound.
From my hotel window, I could see the populace going to work. Most folks seemed to walk vs. taking automobiles, as what I’m accustomed to seeing in the U.S. Here, they really use their mass-transportation system. The net-result is that their streets aren’t as crowded and littered, as compared to home. To be in fashion, most of the younger women had on mini-skirts, and their shapely-legs were well-muscled from walking up and down the hills Cape Town is built upon. Flowers were everywhere and well kept.
After breakfast, I boarded a bus taking me up the long, sloping, base of the mountain, to the Tram. It’s a cable-car that goes from a ground-station up to the top of Table Mountain. Along the way, I noticed a twin-tower type of building that reminded me of Chicago’s Twin Towers, located along the Chicago River. I commented about this to a lady occupying the seat in front of me, and she was friendly enough to ask if I was American? I said "yes" and added that I decided to come here from East-Africa to see Cape Town - and see if it’s as nice as what I’ve read. After a few more exchanges, she introduced herself and said that her family was having a Christmas gathering the next day. She would be delighted to have me come over if I could. She jotted down her address and phone number and handed it to me as she got off the bus. I was taken-back. People just aren’t this friendly at home.
I proceeded up to the Tram and saw Cape Town in all it's splendor! It is a city clustered around a large bay which faces northwest, not south, as imagined. While standing in the short line to board the Tram, I stood in back of some “twenty-something” women and they started talking to me. This is really an uninhibited, friendly place! By now, I realized that I was the one with the accent, and they made a big-fuss out of it.
I was, again, invited to go with them somewhere the next day, but thinking about Bernice, I had to decline. They made plans then for three-days from now, meeting on a popular beach on the other side of "Signal Hill," still in Cape Town.
Back at the hotel, I was a little apprehensive at first about going to the Christmas party. But I thought, what the hell! I took a bus, getting off at the stop-number described on Bernice’s note, and eventually found the little cottage containing the Atkinson family.
Bernice greeted me at the door. Her husband, Sean, shook my hand and immediately started telling me of his WWII days up in Abyssinia. He was in the British Army, fighting all the way eastward from the Libyan Desert. He knew all about Asmara and Keren, having fought in that area as well. I told him that I had visited both British War Cemeteries in Keren and in Asmara. I wasn't ready to see a tear come to his eye!
I met the whole family. There was Tony, who was my age and the oldest son. Megan, the oldest daughter, roughly 19 I’d say. Then there was Donna, who was about 12. Then finally Colm, around six. Talking to Tony and telling him of my future liaison on the beach, he knew exactly where it was and was excited to go with me. He said that’s called "West Beach!"
Bernice and Sean took me on a little road-trip the next day, showing me sites around Cape Town. I saw the hospital where Surgeon-Professor Chris (Christian?) Barnard performed the world’s first heart-transplant! Sean proceeded quite a number of miles further, to the south, to Cape Point. There, I was actually able to step on the last few yards of the African Continent! At Cape Point, or The Cape of Good Hope, one can see the separation of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans. I felt the constant wind and thought of all those ships that met their demise offshore somewhere.
In front of Bernice, Sean suggested to me that "the hotel must be pretty expensive and that I was perfectly welcome to use the foldout couch they have in the side-porch." I told him "I didn’t want to be an imposition and had plenty of money," but he said “come on, don’t be a bore.” Giving in, he drove me back to the hotel and I treated them both to lunch. Then got my stuff and went back to their house to stay.
Sean liked his dark-colored beer, which I think he called Stout. Being Irish, this adds-up. By the way, Bernice is of Dutch-descent. Keeping the Stout in the "boot" while on road-trips, I remembered vaguely somewhere that this is the word that the English use to describe a car’s trunk-lid. Yeah, the "bonnet" is the hood. Refreshing!
I thought how beautiful this area is and wished how I would like to move here someday. Thirty-five years later, it still might be a possibility!
A couple of days later, Tony and I met up with two of the four girls I met at the Tram. They were "lookin good" in their bikinis and we all had a great time! Both of us went home with them and stayed the night. I corresponded with my girl for the next year. I can't remember what Tony did with his. I always wanted to see my girl again, but with college and later, a couple of marriages of my own "down-the-tubes," it just didn’t happen!
On New Year’s Eve 1969, the Atkinson’s hosted a party in my honor. At least I think it was. I believe part of it was that they wanted to show off a "Yank" to their friends. They even invited one of the main editors of Reader's Digest – SA. All these folks were so-nice! I didn’t know it then, but this was to be the start of a life-long friendship with the Atkinson family. My parents visited them in 1971, and my mom writes to Bernice to this day. Sean passed-away, I believe, around 1986.
On the dreaded departure-day, Bernice and Sean brought me to the airport. It was January 2, 1970. They gave me a gift of a Mahogany-framed, brass-image of a charging Elephant. I still have it over my bed! They also gave me a recording-tape, done by the kids, for me to hear once I got back up to Kagnew.
I flew back to Jo’burg and then on to Nairobi where I stayed a couple of nights. I wanted to see some more sites such as a shot of the Nairobi Airport flight-line and the very attractive entrance traffic-circle that I missed on the way down. There was one of a monument to the first paved roads in East Africa I wanted to get a picture of before leaving. The Italians foot the bill for this. The mosque was interesting as well, very similar to the one in Asmara.
I took Ethiopian Airlines again from Nairobi back up to Asmara. We got an in-flight meal that was advertised on a card that had an image of an Ethiopian Warrior on the front, and the meal description inside. Tasted pretty good!
Still being early January, 1970, and back on Kagnew, I had a few more days left on-leave and grew a short beard. I got a jacket made downtown - sort of a "short-timers" one - since I was getting out a few months away in late May'70. I went to the show with Dave and Cindy. Everyone there that I knew had to point-out my beard. I think the movie was 2001: A Space Odyssey. Later at home, we played the recording-tape that the Atkinson’s gave me, on the day I had to leave and come back up. It contained a "piece" performed by each of the kids - except Tony. I got a kick out of the oldest girl, Megan, who kept calling me “Yank.” The tape also contained a South African rhyme-chant. Sometime during the last three decades though, I’ve lost the tape. But it was a real treasure to have, even if was just for a short while!
In early 1970, a new band started playing at the Oasis Club. My work-mate, Bruce, was the drummer and MAN were they GOOD! The Oasis Club was packed each time they played! The name of the band was the "Blues Expression."
Like I said earlier, I got rid of the 1938 Lancia and bought a 1927 Fiat "Tipo" 509 pickup truck. Since the cost of labor was real cheap in Asmara, I had it re-done. They could hand-machine the parts needed. Who bothered with trying to get them through FIAT up in Italy? It ran like a watch! It looked very much like a Dodge of that era. I took Eileen for a ride a couple of times and she thought it was fun! Even though the truck had a stock electric-horn of it's own, I bought an old rubber-and-brass one at the "Bosh" and mounted it on the outside of the driver-side door. I sounded like a goose coming up the street.
Since I was a SP/5, I qualified to eventually ship it back home from Massawa to POE (Port of Entry) New Orleans. I had this thing from 1970 till 1978, and sold it to a restaurant-owner in Oregon, Illinois. He put it in his restaurant’s 1920s-style bar. The place was a multi-story, former piano-factory, which was turned into a restaurant and cute shops. By the way, my truck was still there, as of September 1996, when I went back to the area for my 30th high school reunion!
Well, back to the story, Dave, Cindy, and I went down to Massawa for my second-to-the-last time. It was March 1970. Ronnie, our other close-friend, came along as well. He drove his red 1947 "Red-Cross" Jeepster. We all camped out on North Beach for a night, but we had to come back to TTU next morning because I got sick. We had everything in a well-packed ice-chest. But it was really hot out, and by the next morning, the ice was long-since melted. Like a fool, I had hot-dogs for breakfast. I waded way out into the water and took a dump (the fish really like that!), soon got sick, and convinced everyone that we had to get back into the air-conditioning of TTU.
I was laid-up for at least 24-hours! I can't remember what Dave and Cindy did during that time. They might have gone snorkeling, like we all did so often. Renting an Eritrean-rower from TTU, to take us out to Green Island. That was the place that had a blown-up stone building on it. Rumor says, it was an Italian Casino that was taken over by the British in WWII, made into an ammo-storage facility, and later blown-up. Green Island also had a nice private-like beach that one could walk on and relax. Anyway, back to the story, after I started feeling better, somehow Dave and his wife got invited over to an Italian gentleman’s house which was located just down the block, and adjacent to TTU. They wanted me to go as well, so off we went! It was around 7 p.m. or so.
We had dinner and listened to some music by TOMMY JAMES & THE SHONDELLS, I believe it was CRYSTAL BLUE PERSUASION, circa early 1969. They had a nice cool stone or Granite living room. Later, we talked and listened to some Italian music, etc. It really reminded me of being at a gathering over at my brother's place and listening to his wife's family. They are 100% Sicilian. Anyway, we all had a good time! The Italian gentleman was married to a beautiful Eritrean woman, and their daughter, around 17 I guess, was a gorgeous "Caffolatti." Anna-Maria spoke to me with a cute, soft, English accent. For some reason, Anna took to me real well. I guess I "be da-man!"
She knew that Dave, Cindy, Ronnie and I were going to be down in Massawa for at least another night. So the last night, Anna-Maria took a stroll over to the movie deck-house which was part of TTU. I saw her coming so I motioned for her to walk up the spiral-ramp. After talking a bit and since it was such a beautiful evening, we all decided to go to the outdoor theater - just across the causeway in Massawa proper. When we got there, some Eritrean/Ethie-kids wanted to "watch" Ronnie's jeep but we said no. Bad choice! When the movie was over and we came back to the vehicle, someone had put Camel-dung (at least that is what we think it was) on the door-handles. I got a good handfull so I pushed one of the street-boys around, but as we left, one of them threw a rock and hit the jeep. Didn't do any damage though. At least you couldn't tell it. Back at TTU, Anna-Maria and I ended up talking most of the night. I told her I had to go back up “the hill” the next morning but would like to see her again the next time I came back down to Massawa - to ship off my truck. She liked that, suggesting we go out to North Beach.
Next morning, just before our little entourage headed back up to Asmara, I snapped off a picture of the bay - just in back of the TTU Deck-house - that looked across towards Green Island. This little bay was special to us because it was where we spent many an hour water skiing and snorkeling. Hell, I remember one night, we even went Gar-fishing by lantern-light, courtesy of one of the rowers that always hung around TTU. Great fun! I didn't know it at the time, but this was to be my last picture of Massawa.
About a month later, in April 1970, I got my separation-point orders . Very soon I was a single-digit midget (less than ten days left in country), and these orders allowed me to come down to Massawa to ship-off my Fiat Pickup truck. Anna-Maria’s place was the first thing I hit after being done with my business at the dock-area. We talked for a while, and she drove us both out to North Beach. It was like heaven, strolling along the beach with her! She still had Italian ethics though, as far as pre-marriage conduct. But oh what a night! I had a hard-time saying good-bye to her!
Soon again, I was so short, I could free-fall off a dime, and Dave Mc. and another buddy of mine, Ed T., (who worked at the Oasis Club) drove me to the Asmara International Airport on May 24, 1970. Ed had the most beautiful red, 1966 Ford Mustang convertible I had ever seen, then and now! I paid my departure fee, got my ticket, bade both farewell, and got on the plane - taking-off for a non-stop flight to Beirut, then Paris, France, and then on for DROS (actually "ETS") at Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island, NY.
CONCLUSION
Unlike the modern U.S. Army, it was rare to get any type of award upon PCS or ETS in the '60s - unless you were a "lifer." I really worked by butt off but now-a-days, during a normal 18-month tour, one would expect to get - at the minimum: at least a couple of AAM's (Army Achievement Medals) some time or another, and an ARCOM (Army Commendation Medal) at PCS. Then - especially at ETS, a MSM (Meritorious Service Medal) - given for performance for the entire four-year enlistment. The only ribbons I was wearing upon ETS was the same NDSM (National Defense Service Medal) everyone got in Basic, and a GCR (Good Conduct Ribbon) for at least three years of "being good." That was the "norm" for most of us. The Viet Nam veterans had a couple more ribbons from that theater.
I got a three-month "early-out" since the program - at the time - said you could get up to 90-days shaved off your original enlistment if you provided Personnel a "Letter of Acceptance" from a college. I also noticed on the same DF (Disposition Form), tacked on the company bulletin board, that one could get up to nine-months early out if you wanted to become a D.C. cop! So, I took the college option and skated out of waiting until August 22 for ETS - actually getting discharged on 01 June.
The down-side to this though, that I noticed at Fort Hamilton, NY, was that my DD-214 discharge form had a Re:3 (Re-enlistment Code 3) on it. The rest of the guys I was with didn't. I couldn't give a damn then. I just wanted out! But I found out eleven-years later that this Re:3 almost kept me from re-joining the Army. I guess that Re:3 was a bad-thing, or a sort of punishment the Army was trying to label me with for getting out early! But later, in 1981, that was the Reagan years and the Army was on the rise again. That Re:3 code was waivered for re-treads! Gee, thanks!
I kept up correspondence with Anna-Maria for about a year. Meanwhile, I had been discharged from the Army and started college and stupidly got married. In her letters, Anna kept making subtle remarks about really wanting to come to the U.S. I didn’t think of it at the time but she was well aware of the turmoil about to get hotter. She wanted to get the hell out of there! Thinking back, I probably would have been better-off bringing her to the U.S. vs. being married to my first-wife. I don’t think Anna-Maria would have been the type to dump me once she was "State-side." She would have gotten along famously with my brother’s wife who is full-blooded Sicilian! One can only guess.
Bottom line, I let another good-one slip through my fingers!
Back up on the hill, one guy showed me his “short-timers” calendar which looked like a large spiral, starting out at 18 months, then circling inward in ever-tighter concentric circles, to "double-digit midget," then "I'm so short, I can free-fall of off a dime," until it finally hit NUMBER ONE, which had a picture of a naked girl in it - including a strategically placed bulls-eye. Then beneath the calendar was written in big letters the words: “I’m Gone!”
One last thing... that I never expected upon leaving Eritrea. I have become deeply haunted over the years with Massawa and its road and all the fun we had there. Keren, with its quiet atmosphere and great food, vista's, etc. Asmara, with its wonderfully fine people and the perks it possessed. Kagnew, the dear friends that I left and the good times at work and at play. A good many stayed in the service and eventually went to Viet Nam (at the Height of the Vietnam war - around 1968 - 1/5 of all ASA troops went). I didn't think of it much then but I sure know it now - Asmara held the best of the best - in my life so far. I sure want to go back someday!
NOTE: Kagnew Station is now called "Denden camp." Denden is a mountain located approximately 100 klicks north of Keren and the site of battles between Eritrean and Dergue forces in the 1980s.
