After my graduation from Radar Repair school I looked at my
diploma. I completed 1, 176 hours of class time in about a years . It was
time to move on. One by one my classmates received their assignments and left.
After two weeks I was the only one left. I talked to my First Sargent and he
told me to check my mail each day and relax. Two more weeks passed and I took a
trip to headquarters. It seems that for some reason my name was not on their
list to issue orders to. I was a forgotten Airman.
I was taken into a room by some officer where a huge map of
the world was full of red pins. He told me that these were all the slots that needed
radar repairmen. His exact words were “pick one”. I felt a lot of anxiety and
pressure as I looked at that map. What should I do? My eyes were drawn to the state of California
and I pointed to a pin in a town named Point Arena. It looked to be somewhat
close to San Francisco. Hippies and free love! Yea Baby! I was ready to
go. I got to go home for two weeks leave
first.
After my leave was over I bought a ticket to San Francisco and
left. When I arrived at the Airport I
looked around for some answers on how to get to Point Arena. I was told that
there was no public transportation and Point Arena was at least 135 miles north
of the city. It had looked closer than that.
I saw a Military bus picking up Airmen going to Hamilton AFB. I inquired
and they said I could come along and check on transportation from there.
We arrived a half hour later since Hamilton was only 5 or 6
miles across the Golden Gate Bridge. I
checked in and was told that I would have to wait for a food run to my little
radar station. I was given a room in the base officers’ quarters where I sat
for three days. On the third night there was a knock on the door. As I opened
it there stood a 6’7” Master Sargent who said he was stationed at the 776th.
Radar Station. He informed me that our little base only had 220 people on it
and was considered a remote assignment. What the heck?
Two days later I sat in the front seat of a big two tome
food truck going to deliver supplies to the 776th. Radar squadron. I
have a phobia of letting any part of my body touch another guy so I almost sat
sideways to protect my own space. The trip took us High way 1 along the coast
for 135 miles. Because of the winding, dangerous, but beautiful road it took us
five hours to reach the little town of Point Arena.
Next we began to climb a mountain that was part
of the coastal range. We climbed over 3,500 feet in an 8 mile stretch. We had
arrived and for the next two years I would call this beautiful remote place my
home. It just gets more interesting from here. Stay tuned
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