The origins of the early life of your humble writer: Part XL

By: Preston Aucoin

The air base was a new one and was home to MATS (Military Air Transport Service). Since everything was new, the barracks had rooms, which accommodated a maximum of four men, but were seldom filled. Most of the time, it was two to a room. The PX and the mess hall and other such buildings were modern and I guess if you like the military, inviting.

Not only was the base new, but the aircraft assigned there were the new C-124’s, called the Globemasters. They were the largest cargo-transport planes in the United States in 1954. Now, of course, they are considered dinosaurs and have been replaced by larger and better ones. But back then, they were an oddity. The nose opened, loading ramps came down and a truck or a tank could be driven right into the big monster’s belly and it swallowed it and later disgorged it like Jonah’s whale in the bible. We thought this was remarkable. The civilian version of the C-124 was used to transport race horses across the oceans.

In connection with the air transport service, the base was a supply depot and there were huge warehouses filled with every conceivable thing necessary to the operation and maintenance of these transport aircraft. There were thousands of tools of all sorts, from hand tools to welding rigs. There were hundreds of boxes of inflatable lifeboats and all their survival equipment, including life jackets, fishing kits fully equipped, rifles, food rations flare guns, etcetera.

In addition to military personnel working there, there were scores of civilians. I am going to tell you an incredible true story, to which I was a witness and to the daily number of thefts that occurred, thousands of dollars worth! Sometimes they would steal only individual tools, one of the favorite objects of misappropriation being electric drills. Sometimes it was the entire tool box.

What they would do to the lifeboat survival kits was the ultimate crime, the crime of crimes! The culprits world tear open the sealed kits, and steal the fishing gear, rods, reels, bait, food rations, and also the rifles in those kits. By doing this, they ruined the entire kit. There were many, many other items stolen from these warehouses.

The perplexing problem in my mind was how did these thieves get these items off the base when everyone, civilians and all, had to go by the AP’s (Air Police) at the checkpoint, the only entrance and exit to come in or go out of the base, unless they were sharing the loot with the AP’s (an inside job) which was very unlikely. Most probably, they were throwing the plunder over the fence surrounding the base and retrieving it at night.

Be that as it may, it was costing the United States Air Force hundreds of thousands of dollars. It is hard to believe that this was going on right under the noses of base security. That hardly speaks well of the administration and operation of the base. In fact it was shameful. And they knew it was going on because inventory was periodically taken and revealed it. As far as I know nothing was ever done about it.

It reminds me of a story was told after World War II in occupied Germany. The U.S. Army had a base in some part of Germany, which employed many German civilians. Each afternoon, after work, these Germans had to go through the checkpoint, which was strictly managed by MP’s (military police), and as each German worker came through, he was thoroughly frisked by the MP’s and if he was carrying any box or container, it was opened to see its contents.

Every afternoon, an old German worker came through checkpoint pushing a wheelbarrow. The MP’s checked it and it was empty so they waved him through. This procedure occurred every afternoon. The MP’s became suspicious and began examining the apparently empty wheelbarrow carefully, at first turning it over to see if anything was fastened to its bottom. There was nothing.

Then, the MP’s began to suspect something was somehow concealed in the wheel or its rubber tire. So, the wheel was removed and the hub carefully examined. The tire was removed to see if there was anything there, nothing. They met with the MP Colonel who was the head of the Military Police and he said most probably the handles of the wheelbarrow were hollow and the ill-gotten merchandise was concealed therein. Accordingly, the rubber hand grips were removed and examined and then the two handles themselves were meticulously examined by experts, nothing. The old German and the wheelbarrow were waved through leaving the MP’s dumb founded and scratching their heads.

This went on for months and finally the MP’s threw in the towel. The next afternoon, the old German and the wheelbarrow arrived at the checkpoint to be greeted by the Colonel and other police officers. He addressed the old German, saying, “We know you are stealing something but we can’t prove it. We’ll make a deal with you and grant you total immunity from any kind of punishment if you’ll tell us what you are pilfering and we will let you continue to do so. Such interaction will be very valuable to our secret service if we can learn your trick. The old German said, “Ok, I’m stealing wheelbarrows! That proves the old adage that sometimes you can’t see the trees because of their leaves.

So, anyway, as far as I know, this outrageous thievery continued, uncorrected on the base until I left. The summer, with its delightful weekends on the Atlantic beach and its luscious submarine sandwiches, went by quickly and soon fall came and then early winter, and snow began to fall around the month of November. It may be pretty and form a winter wonderland but I didn’t like it. I had plenty leave time and had not been home for Christmas in four years so I took a 25-day leave for the holidays and came home. Needless to say, it was not snowing. I will not bore the reader by reciting what we did to celebrate. He/she knows.

I went back a day or two after New Years to begin the discharge process. One of my buddies, an Italian guy from Buffalo, New York got discharged about a week before me and got killed on his way home in an auto accident. The C.O. let a few of his close friends, including me, go to the funeral; a sad affair. His family was devastated. Strangely enough, tons of Italian food was prepared and served to all family members and friends accompanied by red wine, amid the sorrow.

It was cold and the snow was so deep the ground was frozen and the coffin could not be buried. It was simply laid on the burial place in the cemetery until the spring thaw. That added to the sadness, but the eating and drinking did not stop. Finally, we had to say goodbye to the grieving family who cried and hugged us and thanked us for coming.

By the time we got back to the base, there was only a very few days (maybe a week) before my discharge, and since the “useless ceremony” we had to go through took about three weeks, my holiday leave and unexpected funeral attendance delayed my discharge date and I overstayed my four-year enlistment by 12 days.

Thank you for reading this column and in the next one, I will tell you my saying sayonara to the good ole Air Force and my re-entry into civilian life.

I invite the readers of this column to listen to my radio program at 12:30 noon on KVPI FM or 10.50 AM every other Wednesday.