An Aussie CD with the USN

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=82 BGCOLOR="#000066" TEXT="#F7F7FF"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFFFFF" FACE="Arial" ><B>RAN Clearance Divers Association</B></FONT><B>     |   </B><B> </B><A HREF="articles.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Articles"><U><B>Articles</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id61.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="More Branch History"><U>More Branch History</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Bomb Mine Disposal WWII"><U>Bomb & Mine Disposal - WWII</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id56.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="CDT1 in PNG"><U>CDT1 in PNG</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="CDT2"><U>CDT2</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="CDT3 in South Vietnam"><U>CDT3 in South Vietnam</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id79.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="CDs who served on the Gunline"><U>CDs who served on the 'Gunline'</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id49.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="CDT3 in KUWAIT"><U>CDT3 in KUWAIT</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id59.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="CDT3 in Iraq"><U>CDT3 in Iraq</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Operation Iraqi Freedom"><U>Operation Iraqi Freedom</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Recollections of a Clearance Diver"><U>Recollections of a Clearance Diver</U></A>   |   <B>An Aussie CD with the USN</B>   |   <A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="History of Demolitions training"><U>History of Demolitions training</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id70.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Personnel Exchange Program with USN"><U>Personnel Exchange Program with USN</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id72.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Past Team/School COs, XOs and WOs of the"><U>Past Team/School CO's, XO's and WO's of the CD Branch</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id73.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="MCDOs reaching Star Rank"><U>MCDOs reaching Star Rank</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Indonesian Confrontation"><U>Indonesian Confrontation</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id77.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="IRAQ 2007"><U>IRAQ 2007</U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#000066" TEXT="#F7F7FF"> <bR> <div> <I><IMG SRC="81bb4a00.jpg" border=0 width="180" height="160" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></I></div> <div> <I><IMG SRC="81db46f0.jpg" border=0 width="180" height="111" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></I></div> <div> <I>My favourite toy -</I></div> <div> <I>     Beechcraft T34B 'Mentor'</I><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#000066" FACE="Arial" ><I>av</I></FONT></div> <div> <I>ourie MM<IMG SRC="820a52f0.jpg" border=0 width="165" height="303" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></I></div> <div> <I>Lakehurst NAS</I></div> <div> <I>New Jersey.</I></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=398 BGCOLOR="#99FFFF" TEXT="#F7F7FF"> <div> <I>An Aussie CD with the USN</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>An extract from a book Tony Ey has written on life in the CD Branch. </I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> Early on the morning of the 24<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000033" FACE="Arial" >th</FONT> January 1977 my wife and I landed at Honolulu's International airport, as excited as two kids on Christmas morning, knowing that this exotic Pacific paradise was to be our home for the next few years. Emerging from Immigration and Customs, we found two US Navy Chiefs from my new unit waiting to welcome us with the traditional Hawaiian greeting, '<I>Leis'</I> made from the beautifully scented flower of the Frangipani; or Plumeria tree. Master Chief Petty Officer John Hazeltine, CPO Larry Aanarud (known as '<I>Double A'</I>) and his wife Peggy delivered us to the Hotel Ilikai on Waikiki Beach with the sound advice that we should get some sleep. Over the next few days we touched base with the Australian Consulate and took the opportunity to take in the wonderful climate and lifestyle that is Honolulu. It was love at first sight. Hiring a car, we explored our new island home of Oahu, </div> <bR> <div> I was the third RAN Clearance Diver to be posted for exchange duty with the US Navy. The first was POCD John Thompson who spent his tour with the Navy's Salvage Divers based in Pearl Harbour. The second, CPOCD Harry Brankstone, began the long running exchange (which continues to this day) with the USN's Explosive Ordnance Disposal Group One (EODGRUONE), then based at West Loch situated on the western side of Pearl Harbour. For some obscure reason, Harry had been posted back to Australia 2 weeks prior to my arrival, leaving me without a handover or the benefit of his valuable experience gained from 2½ years working with the US Navy. We were not overly concerned, however it would have made life a little easier with respect to settling in, finding accommodation, shopping etc. After several days of playing tourist around Oahu and downtown Honolulu at the Australian taxpayer's expense, we moved to a motel at Ewa Beach to be closer to West Loch so that I could begin my assimilation into the United States Navy. </div> <bR> <div> Our first priority was to find a house and buy a car. Harry and his family had lived in an area known as Makakilo so we thought it was as good as place as any to start looking. The Americans had offered us a married quarter at the nearby Barber's Point Naval Air Station, but that had all the drawbacks associated with on-base living, so we settled for a house situated on the rising slopes of Makakilo overlooking the ocean on the south west corner of Oahu. </div> <div> After drooling over the latest Ford V8 Mustangs which cost around US$5,000, we finally decided on a brand new 1979 Volkswagen Rabbit. At the end of the day we were swayed by German engineering, reliability and resale value over American chrome and horsepower. Due to the Rabbit's popularity in the US at that time, they were being flown in from Germany aboard Jumbo jets in an effort to keep up with the demand. We paid US$4,200 for our new acquisition and it was one hell of a buy considering the Australian dollar was worth about US$1.15 at that time.</div> <bR> <div> EODGRUONE was under the command of a Navy Captain (he was given the courtesy title of Commodore) who was also a qualified EOD technician as were all the officers and men of the Group, with the exception of the administration and support staff. They were a completely self sufficient Command and were supported by vehicle and machine repair shops, a boat section, dive locker, parachute locker, and a sick bay complete with Doctor and medical corpsman. EOD Group Two was its east coast equivalent; responsible for supporting the Atlantic Fleet. Suprisingly, the Group HQ were housed in WW2 Quonset huts.</div> <bR> <div> To become an EOD technician in the US Navy, selected personnel undergo initial training at the EOD Chemical School at Redstone, Alabama. Students receive classroom and practical instruction in the methods of identification, render safe, and disposal procedures for a wide variety of chemical and biological munitions. Daily physical conditioning develops students for diver training which occurs later in the course. Upon completion of this 5 week phase, students report to Navy EOD School, Indian Head, Maryland, for 34 weeks of intensive study. The course is taught in five phases: the core phase, which is the foundation for the rest of the course, includes instruction in the use of EOD publications, special tools, explosive charges, and principles of applied physics; the ground phase deals with land mines, booby traps, and fusing of launched or thrown ordnance; the air ordnance phase examines ordnance launched from aircraft; the underwater ordnance and diving phase studies torpedoes, contact/influence mines, and depth charges. In this phase the student is taught basic diving skills using open circuit SCUBA, semi-closed circuit SCUBA, MK 5 (hard hat surface supplied air) and MK 1 bandmask (light weight surface supplied air). The final phase of training concerns nuclear ordnance and associated equipment. All phases utilize both classroom and practical instruction. Upon graduation, the Basic EOD Technician was assigned to either EOD Group One, Pearl Harbour, Hawaii, or EOD Group Two, Fort Story, Virginia. At both Groups, EOD techs receive further on-the-job training and make at least one 6 month deployment aboard an Aircraft Carrier or Ammunition ship to WESPAC as a member of a 4 man EOD Team. On completion of their training they qualify for $110 per month incentive pay and may be selected at a later date for parachute training.</div> <bR> <div> EODGRUONE was the administrative area for all EOD detachments in the Pacific and these ranged from the West coast USA to Japan and from Alaska to the Philippines. During the Vietnam War, EODGRUONE had been the command group for teams deployed to Vietnam, including our own RAN Clearance Diving Team 3, designated by the Americans as EODMUPAC Team 35. During my exchange tour there were approximately sixteen 4 man teams detached throughout the Pacific. Most of the teams were located on Naval Air Stations or Naval Magazines and were tasked with providing EOD/diving services to their local commands. There were two subordinate commands under Group One: EODMUONE (Mobile Unit One) and EODTUONE (Training Unit One), both with a Lieutenant Commander in charge.</div> <bR> <div> The Training Unit consisted mainly of the more experienced EOD technicians with the majority of personnel being Chiefs. Their major task was to provide refresher training for the detachments which returned to Hawaii every 18 months for 3 week courses. They also provided training to the Mobile Unit's teams prior to joining ships deploying to the western Pacific. The area within the Training Unit which was of special interest to us was the Dive Locker. It was staffed by EOD techs as well as fleet divers. On request they would supply instruction and refresher training in ordnance locators, hand held sonar (passive and active), small boat navigation, recompression chamber operator/supervisor and diving supervisor. Their equipment included a complete fly-away dive/recompression system which was designed to fit into a USAF C-141 <I>Starlifter</I> or a C-5 <I>Galaxy </I>aircraft. It was a surprise to me to discover that a diving supervisor remained current only in his present command. When arriving at a new posting, he was required to satisfy his command that he was up to date before being allowed to supervise. A diving supervisor could hold a qualification for any individual or combination of rigs and could be of virtually any rank whereas in the Australian system only Petty Officers and above could supervise diving and EOD/demolition, however our supervisors remain current until they leave the Branch.</div> <bR> <div> The Mobile Unit at full strength consisted of 25 officers and 75 enlisted sailors. A core of 3 officers and 10 enlisted men remained at the unit in Hawaii with the remainder available to deploy aboard Fleet units and respond to all EOD/diving tasks within the Pacific Rim as required.</div> <bR> <div> All EOD divers were qualified upon graduation to 130 feet on air and completed as part of their training, familiarization dives using semi-closed circuit (rebreather) equipment. </div> <bR> <div> My previous experience had shown that CD's were better trained in the areas of diving and seamanship and the US EOD sailors were more technically qualified in the field of EOD. Aussie CD's being a 'jack of all trades' are also much more comfortable and capable around explosives. I believe this is a result of there being so few CDs when compared to the vast numbers churned out by the US system. The Mobile Unit alone was as large as the entire Clearance Diving branch of the RAN. Fewer numbers means each CD has a much greater exposure to a broader range of tasks and as a result our sailors after 5 years service can have as much experience or more than a US sailor with 20+ years service.</div> <bR> <div> My predecessor, Harry Brankstone, had spent the initial part of his tour with the EOD Training Unit and his last 12 months as Training Officer of the widely traveled Mobile Unit which enabled him to participate in several operational deployments. </div> <div>  The Americans were keen to take advantage of our '<I>jack of all trades'</I> training and diving skills to enhance their training programs however I was determined not to waste my tour (my point of view) stuck in Honolulu conducting refresher training for US EOD technicians. I felt the only way to maximise the benefits of the exchange program would be for me to  serve my entire tour with their operational unit. After a long and candid talk with the Commodore about the aims of the exchange program and what I hoped to gain from the experience, we agreed that I should be attached to the Mobile Unit. The first thing I had to do was undergo a familiarization course with their diving equipment and safety regulations. Fortunately I had already used most of their equipment during special warfare exercises in the Philippines and of course we had used US scuba equipment exclusively during my tour in Vietnam. </div> <bR> <div> In addition to rank titles, the American Military classify their rank structure by a numerical system to allow cross recognition between the services. For enlisted ranks there are 9 levels with E1 being the lowest, through to the dizzy heights of E9 Master Chief. As they have three different levels of Chief Petty Officer, it has always been difficult to clarify the exact equivalents in the Australian system which had only five levels including one level of CPO (the senior NCO level in the RAN at that time). As an Australian Petty Officer, I was recognised as the equivalent of the USN E7 Chief Petty Officer. When I was promoted to CPOCD in Nov '78, I was accorded the equivalent rank as their E8, or Senior Chief Petty Officer. In the whole of Group One, there was only one E9 and he was the '<I>Master Chief of the Command</I>'. The American Navy accords its Chiefs enormous respect and the officers are obviously taught this from day one in the Navy. Trained along the lines of the British class system, many Australian officers assume through ignorance and a little arrogance that only they have the intelligence and ability to make decisions, whereas the American officers are very aware that their Chiefs keep the wheels from falling off. It is an area where the Yanks leave some of our lot looking like pompous little '<I>Lord Faunteloys</I>'. I regularly witnessed very senior American Naval Officers showing this deep-seated respect for their Chiefs. It stimulates enormous pride and loyalty within the US Navy. </div> <bR> <div> While waiting for my first EOD task with the Mobile Unit, I was asked if I would like to attend a 3 week Outboard Motor technician's course at the '<I>Johnson</I> <I>OMC'</I> factory in San Francisco. As this would give me my first trip to mainland USA, I didn't need to be asked twice. From memory, we flew into SF on a commercial flight. I can clearly remember my excitement as we crossed the California coast.</div> <bR> <div> We were taken to our accommodation at the Oakland Naval Base and provided with a Navy station wagon to allow us to commute daily to the OMC factory. I was billeted in the CPO quarters. Petty Officer 1<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000033" FACE="Arial" >st</FONT> class John Conway was also billeted in the Chief's quarters due to a lack of space in his own mess. He was one crazy dude. He had some Irish blood in his lineage and was I believe, the oldest 1<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000033" FACE="Arial" >st</FONT> Class PO in the US Navy. Apparently he had been denied promotion permanently due his inclination towards smacking the odd officer in the mouth when he disagreed with them. John showed me around San Francisco and we had a ball. One night has stuck in my memory. One of his mates from the San Francisco EOD detachment took us on a Yankee version of a pub crawl. Cruising through the downtown area, I was sitting in the back of a new white Pontiac Firebird drinking Budweiser and John and his mate were in the front drinking beer and smoking dope. The windows were down and '<I>Seals and Croft'</I> were cranked up on the stereo. I thought to myself, '<I>Only in America'</I>. At that point in time marijuana smoking was quite widespread in the US military although I never felt inclined to try it. </div> <bR> <div> I thoroughly enjoyed the Outboard Motor course as I appreciate all things mechanical. Over 3 weeks we learnt the fundamentals of marine outboard engines while each stripping and reassembling an 85 hp Johnson. Outside working hours we partook of the social life offered by a major US city. I loved San Francisco. To me it epitomized everything American. During the final days of the course, one of our fellow EOD types became quite anxious and was desperate to go home. We couldn't understand this as the rest of us were having a ball. Only after we returned to Hawaii did we discover the reason for his sense of urgency. He had been tipped off by a mate that another sailor was sleeping with his wife. By going home early he actually caught them in the act. </div> <bR> <div> We completed the course and went away qualified as OMC Service Technicians. While everyone else flew back to Honolulu, I stayed on, taking 2 weeks leave. I hired a massive 2 door Ford LTD and picked up Antoinette from SF International. She was very impressed with my choice of car. We spent a couple of days at a Military motel at Oakland while exploring Fisherman's Wharf and riding the cable car before heading north up the Californian coast. It was a beautiful drive taking in everything from old whaling villages to the massive Californian Redwood forests. Some of the trees were so large that the road passed through cut out sections of the trunk. We moved on into Oregon, a very clean and pristine State. Every 20 or 30 miles there were rest stops with toilet facilities, picnic tables and lots of green grass. We never saw a scrap of rubbish anywhere, not even a cigarette butt. </div> <div> We continued north to Portland and crossed into Washington State. I have a great photo of Mount St. Helens taken on that trip. This supposedly dormant volcano has since erupted and half the mountain was blown away with a tragic loss of life. From there we headed west up the Columbia Gorge to Lost Lake at the foot of Mount Hood and then turned south. Wonderful places like Klamath Falls, Crater Lake National Park, Reno and Virginia City spring to mind and stir great memories. One hot afternoon in the middle of nowhere passing through a one horse town I decided to stop and pick up a couple of cold beers to keep me going. I was very surprised to find they sold 26 ounce cans of '<I>Tooths KB</I>' (a Sydney beer) and what's more, it was cheaper than buying it in Sydney. We went to Reno Nevada where even the barber shops had poker machines and a full breakfast at the casinos cost 49 cents, then onto Las Vegas where the casinos didn't have locks on the doors because they never closed. We drove through Yosemite National Park and up into the Sierra Nevadas to an old mining ghost town called Bodie. The town's '<I>Boot Hill</I>' was full of children's graves who had died before the age of one because of raging diseases and sub zero winters. A land of enormous contrasts.</div> <bR> <div> EOD like all other Special Forces types are very fitness conscious. Every morning PT was led by one of the Chiefs or senior Petty Officers. This was followed by a typical US Military run of about 1 mile. Everyone was fallen in and ran in 3 columns singing a cadence as we went. At the halfway point most turned back and a few of the keen runners kept going to complete the 5 mile circuit around the West Loch Base. I was one of these and I usually ran stride for stride with PO1 Harmon Slappy, who became a very good friend of mine. After I returned home Harmon was promoted to Chief and came to Australia under the PEP program, so we spent another 2 years together. Harmon was one of the strongest runners in the Group and by pairing up with him I lifted my distance and pace considerably. He also ran at lunchtime, so I thought, bugger him, if he can do it so can I. So on most days we ran 10 miles with the odd day when we were feeling energetic, we completed 2 circuits of the base at lunchtime, bringing our daily total to 15 miles (24 kms). Occasionally I ran the 8 miles to work. A very pleasant run with the road winding through the canefields. I recall one day when I was feeling particularly sprightly and after running in from home, decided to keep on going and do the base circuit as well. Feeling on top of the world, I continued on for a second circuit. That made 18 miles before I started work. Distance running provides a 'high' that cannot be explained to anyone who hasn't experienced it. I loved it and it became an obsession. I went into training for the Honolulu marathon, running 14 to 18 miles on Sundays with the Aussie vice-consul, Mike Williams (also a Vietnam Vet). At about that time the Honolulu '<I>Hash House Harriers'</I> were just getting started so I joined them and we ran hard every Tuesday night and then like every other Hasher worldwide, partook of a drink or two after the run. Apart from the marathon, I ran in two other major races and I felt both were much tougher. The first was the <I>'Oahu perimeter run</I>'. This was a 140 mile relay race run beginning at 8pm one night and going through the entire night. Each team consisted of 7 runners and it was personal choice whether your team ran it in 20 miles sections with each runner running only once, or split the race so that each member ran several legs of 4 or 5 miles through the night. We opted to do the latter. We had 2 support vans so that we could rest between legs. We could drink fluid but eating was out of the question. When it came time to run your next leg, your muscles had cooled and tightened so that it was sheer agony for the first mile until you began to warm up again. No-one slept as we were all so hyped up. It was a long night. Being the team captain I felt obliged to run the first and last legs with a few in between to make up my 20 mile share. As the night wore on each leg became harder. By the time I ran the final leg through downtown Honolulu and onto the finish in Kapiolani Park, it was 9 am. The sun was up, it was hot, and I was exhausted. The cheering crowd spurred me on for the final sprint to the line. I remember this event as being far more demanding than a 26 mile marathon. The second race was a 58 mile relay run held at the Schofield Army base. From memory there were 7 man teams, so each runner ran a single 8 mile leg at pretty much sprint pace. It was a very hard run.</div> <bR> <div> Much to my delight I discovered that the US Military sponsored Flying Clubs at most of their Air bases. These clubs were only open to military personnel and flying lessons were considerably cheaper than civilian clubs. I had always wanted to learn to fly and was determined to take advantage of such a great opportunity. After checking around I discovered a few EOD sailors were taking lessons at nearby Barber's Point Naval Air Station. I actually drove or ran through the base twice a day on my way to and from work. After confirming I was eligible to be a member of the club I got stuck into it. I attended theory classes two nights a week and after about 3 weeks was ready to begin practical lessons. I loved it from day one and took to it like a duck to water. Most of the flight instructors were military aviators themselves with the CFI being a civilian employed to ensure the training curriculum met with FAA standards. My instructor was aircrew on the Navy P3 Orions. From memory the theory phase of the course cost about $35 in total and my flight time cost $18 an hour. I think $13 for the aircraft (a Cessna 150 Aerobat) and $5 for the instructor. I managed to fly at least 2 afternoons per week and once on the weekends. </div> <div> It was important to fly often enough so that each new lesson was not wasted going over old ground. I breezed through the course, going solo in 10 hours. My first solo flight was something I will never ever forget. We were doing touch and gos on Ford Island airstrip (next to the USS Arizona Memorial) when my instructor told me to turn off the runway and stop. He opened the door and casually said to me “<I>You're on your own. Do three touch & go's and then come back and pick me up</I>”. I thought I wasn't hearing correctly. As I tore down the runway and lifted the nose skyward, there was a brief second when I wondered if I was ready for this. About 50 feet above the ground I glanced to the right to make sure I was really on my own and couldn't stop myself from breaking out in a huge grin. I was airborne, I was flying, and I was in command. It was just me and this little plane. It was about 15 minutes of sheer albeit very focused bliss. I was quite disappointed when I had to pull off the active runway and pick up the instructor. He climbed back into what I now considered '<I>my aircraft'</I> and we returned to Barbers Point to review my first solo. From there we began doing cross-country flights, across to Maui and the 'Big Island'. The day arrived when I was to do a solo flight from Barbers Point through Honolulu controlled airspace, across to Molokai, over Maui and on to land at Kona on the west coast of Hawaii. What a feeling; 5 hours on my own with the spectacular scenery of the Hawaiian Islands unfolding beneath my wings. To land at Kona, taxi in and refuel 'my' aircraft, just like a fair dinkum pilot. Heady stuff. Every time I went down to the club I would look at the bigger and more powerful aircraft parked at the ramp and look forward to the day when I would be able to fly them. I sat the FAA theory examination and soon after my instructor said I was ready in all respects to take my final flight test. He advised the CFI who then took me up for a final check ride. We went out to the training area and flew turns around pylons and conducted a variety of stalls and spins before heading off to Honolulu International for a few touch and go's. I was cleared for runway 4R but on short final was told by the tower to immediately move over to land on 4L. As I rolled out on 4L it became obvious why I had to change runways. Out of the blue we heard an ear shattering roar as a Boeing 747 screamed past us on 4R in full reverse thrust. The CFI said no big deal - when the controllers realised we weren't going to land and clear 4R in time, they just moved us over to the parallel runway. All in a normal day's flying. Back on the ground the CFI gave me an 'above average' assessment and said I was ready for the FAA flight test. I passed with flying colours. What a buzz to be told you have a pilot's licence. My new licence allowed me to fly with passengers both locally and cross country. I could also fly locally at night providing I maintained three night landings every 3 months. My first priority was to get checked out in a 4 seater. I began with a Cessna 172 and progressively became qualified with taildraggers, retractables and constant speed prop aircraft such as the Piper Arrow, Beechcraft Sierra, Cessna T41 and my all-time favourite aircraft, a Beech T-34B Mentor. This fantastic airplane had been the standard trainer for US Navy and Air Force pilots for many years and had been replaced by the 'C' model which was basically the same aircraft but was fitted with a turbine. The effectively obsolete T-34B's were given to military flying clubs. It was a retractable constant speed tandem seater with sliding perspex canopies. The cockpit was set out like a real jet fighter with its instrument layout, joystick, throttle quadrant and large rudder pedals. It certainly felt like what I imagined flying a jet would be like and I loved it. It was fully aerobatic and handled like a dream. At the controls, flying over the Hawaiian Islands at 160 knots with the canopy wide open, there was no place on Earth I would rather have been. When I first read the poem '<I>High Flight</I>', I understood exactly what the author had experienced:- </div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <I>“Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth</I></div> <div> <I>and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;</I></div> <div> <I>Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth</I></div> <div> <I>of sun split clouds - and done a hundred things</I></div> <div> <I>you have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung</I></div> <div> <I>high in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there</I></div> <div> <I>I've chased the shouting wind along </I></div> <div> <I>and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.</I></div> <div> <I>Up, up the delirious burning blue.</I></div> <div> <I>I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace</I></div> <div> <I>where never lark, or even eagle flew -</I></div> <div> <I>and, while with silent lifting mind I've trod</I></div> <div> <I>the high unsurpassed sanctity of space,</I></div> <div> <I>put out my hand and touched the face of God.”</I></div> <bR> <div> (Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee - RCAF - Killed in action, 11th Dec. 1941)</div> <bR> <div> Over the next 2 years I flew at every opportunity. Once I had obtained my taildragger rating on a fully aerobatic Citabria Bellanca, I set my sights on a multi-engine rating. I'll never forget the sense of achievement, sitting in the left hand seat of a Cessna 310 and hearing the growl as two engines roared into life at my command. </div> <div> Whenever we had visitors, I flew them around all the islands. We watched migrating Humpback whales frolicking off Maui, flew along the edge of Molokai's towering 2000 foot cliffs, flew into the crater of Mount Haleakala, flew over the active volcano Kilauea and roared along the crests of Oahu's famous surf beaches. We saw more of Hawaii than 95% of the local islanders would manage to see in a lifetime. Often on the weekend I would wake and say to Antoinette “Where would you like to go for lunch? Maui or Kauai, or perhaps Molokai.” We would call a few friends to see if they wanted to join us. What a life. When Aussie ships came in during Rimpac exercises, I would take the CDs up for a look over Oahu and Pearl Harbour. Once I flew the Australian Consul and his wife over to Hana on the island of Maui, dropped them off for the weekend and returned to pick them up a few days later. I took my parents to every island, staying a few days on each. They remembered it as the best holiday of their lives. </div> <bR> <div> I was to discover that one of the regular tasks for the Mobile Unit was to visit the island of Kahoolawe, situated off the south western tip of Maui, about 160 kilometres south east of Honolulu. This uninhabited island has been used by the US Military for gunnery and bombing practice since 1941. Native Hawaiians had been lobbying the US Government to have at least part of the island returned to them as part of their cultural and religious heritage claims. EODMUONE was tasked with clearing part of the island of unexploded ordnance to allow limited access by the native Hawaiians. It was estimated that the project would require 10 EOD techs 10 days per month for at least 18 months. I once took part in a cull of the island's large goat population, which as an introduced animal wore most of the blame for the desert-like conditions on the island. These goat hunting expeditions were only conducted by EOD personnel due to the dangers of the aging ordnance littering the island. We spent 10 days at a time hunting with the US issue 5.56mm M-16. Not a particularly good hunting weapon as the sights are not suited to small targets. We camped under the stars and lived on C-rations. One night I decided against all advice to cook a meal of curried goat. It turned out as tough as old boot leather. I was advised by an old hand to place a large stone in the pot at the same time as I cooked the goat meat. He said that I should stew the goat for about 24 hours and then throw away the meat and eat the stone. It would be the more tender of the two. By the time our chopper arrived to pick us up for the return trip to Honolulu, we were a dirty rough looking lot, unshaven and covered from head to foot in the red dust of the island. How the goats survived, and why the Hawaiians wanted the island back, I'll never know. The island is situated in the rain shadow of Maui so it is conjecture whether the goats or lack of rainfall are responsible for its bleak landscape. We were also tasked with escorting government and archaeological personnel on their regular visits as parts of the island are supposedly rich in Hawaiian artifacts. </div> <bR> <div> My broad range of diving and EOD experience paid off as the CO of the Mobile Unit always called me to his office whenever a task was assigned and asked if I wished to go. Of course I jumped at every offer. This allowed me to have numerous trips to the mainland where I always took some leave on completion of the job. Antoinette would then fly over and we would continue our travels. In all we managed to visit some 26 states. </div> <bR> <div> One of my most interesting trips was to Florida. The US Navy was developing decompession tables for a new piece of diving equipment known commercially as the '<I>Electrolung</I>'. The Navy called it the SLSS (Swimmer Life Support System) and it was state of the art. Its greatest advantage was it's ability to automaticaly provide the optimum oxygen %age at any depth thus conserving the breathing medium to provide unheard of endurance. However this constantly changing %age of both O<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000033" FACE="Arial" >2</FONT> and the inert 'diluent' meant a completely new set of tables had to be proven by trial and error. Divers were selected from across the US military spectrum to take part in the decompression trials. They came from all branches of the Navy diving community including Seals, EOD and Salvage. Army Green Beret dive troops were also involved. Three EOD sailors were selected from Hawaii and I was extremely pleased to be one of them. We departed Honolulu on a commercial flight on New Year's Eve 1977. CPO Norm Case, Seaman Rich Mahone  and I saw in the New Year sitting in an airport bar at LA International awaiting our onward flight to New Orleans. There were just the three of us and the Negro barman when the clock struck 12. Once aboard our flight the hostess's said they intended to sleep as all the other passengers were asleep and that we could help ourselves to the bar service. Being sailors we jumped at the offer and moved back nearer the galley. For the next 5 hours we celebrated the New Year. We arrived in New Orleans in pretty bad shape having had no sleep. A 'Dixie' beer in one of the airport bars finished us and for the next two legs onto Mobile and finally Panama City, we slept like babies.</div> <bR> <div> Thirty divers had assembled for the trial and to our delight we were told that we were deploying to Puerto Rico for a 3 week familiarization with the SLSS before returning to the Experimental Diving Unit at Panama City to begin the actual trials. A US Navy DC9 flew us to our destination in the Caribbean. The diving famil entailed gradually increasing the duration of each dive until we were comfortable with 6 hours dives. During this workup I managed to acquire a great collection of shells, none of which I had ever seen in the southern hemisphere. </div> <div> Back in Florida we conducted all dives under strictly controlled conditions in a massive wet chamber. We dived in groups of 10, so one day's diving was followed by 2 days off. During these dives we spent up to 6 hours underwater at depths of 150 feet. This continued for 3 months. We lived in new condominiums on the beach, three divers to a unit and each unit had a rental car. I can remember some great nights kicking up our heels in the numerous 'shit-kicking bars' around Panama City. What a life. I shared my condo with Norm Case and a Green Beret Top Sergeant. One of the EDU's resident diving Chiefs, Dusty Rhodes, owned a bar called <I>Down the Hatch, </I>just outside the main gate, so it became a regular stop for a game of darts and a beer or two. Dusty had about 8 or 10 beers on tap. On my days off I managed to see most of northern Florida and much of Alabama and Georgia.</div> <div> During the course of the trial several of the team were 'bent' (suffered from decompression sickness). Fortunately I was not one of them.</div> <bR> <div> I submitted quite a comprehensive report including recommendations on the equipment to OIC Diving and Canberra and never heard it mentioned again. Interestingly, 25 years later, this same set is now the mainstay 'mixture' diving set of the RAN Clearance Diving Branch.</div> <bR> <div> The EOD Group had its own parachute locker, staffed by a Senior Chief Master Parachutist and a PO 3<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000033" FACE="Arial" >rd</FONT> class parachute rigger. An operational requirement for US Navy EOD is the ability to be inserted by parachute into both the land and water environment, day or night. At that time it was not a requirement of the RAN. Soon after my arrival I was asked to supervise the recovery operations for their water jump training. Once EOD sailors obtained their jump wings it became the Group's responsibility to conduct their water jump qualifications on their return to Hawaii. It didn't take too long for me to decide that I wanted to be part of this jumping business. Jumping out of aircraft over the Hawaiian Islands into clear blue water was too good to miss. After a quiet word to the CO of the Mobile unit, I sent off a request to the Australian Embassy in Washington seeking approval to attend Jump School. This put a “cat amongst the pigeons” as it would be a first for the RAN. Fortunately, and quite surprisingly, approval was given by the Canberra paper shufflers. In short order I was packing my bags and on a civilian flight to Washington. The Navy parachute school was situated at Lakehurst Naval Air Station in New Jersey. A very famous location as it was at Lakehurst in 1937 that the German dirigible  airship '<I>Hindenburg'</I> had caught fire and crashed. The Navy had its own parachute school to train their Special Forces and pilots and differed from the Army training in that at Lakehurst you learnt to pack chutes first and when jump training began, trainees jumped with the chutes they had personally packed. Makes you pay attention knowing your first jump is with a main and reserve you have packed. My class was made up of Navy Seals, a bunch of young Navy pilots and a couple of EOD types. The first event on the program was a 1.5 mile sprint to confirm our fitness levels. It turned into a race and I was pretty pleased with myself when I sprinted across the line a clear winner. There were a lot of surprised young pilots and Seals when the 31 year old Aussie Chief kicked their arses.</div> <div> Training got under way with a combination of PT, packing lessons, and practicing parachute landing falls (PLFs). Each morning the class fell in neatly three abreast and ran the circumference of the airfield singing typical American military '<I>hoo-ya'</I> songs. Our PLFs were practised from a wooden stage about 10 - 12 feet high to simulate the impact of landing. I was surprised how hard we hit the ground. Military chutes at that time were steerable but unlike modern chutes they could not be flared, which reduces the speed of descent just prior landing.</div> <bR> <div> From memory it was about day 6 when we were due to have our first jump. Unfortunately at the last minute we were told our aircraft was down, unserviceable, so we had to wait a couple of extra days before it was all go. Our first jumps were from Navy 'Trackers' which surprised me as they are a very small aircraft. We had to exit from a side door which was barely big enough to fit through. Kneeling in the open door, all you could see was the port engine nacelle about 4 feet away. They assured us that we would not hit it as we flung ourselves out the door because the 100 knot slipstream would almost knock us unconscious anyway as it slammed us sideways. My final thought in the door was '<I>I hope I packed these chutes properly</I>'. That first jump was something you could never forget. What a buzz - the roaring din of the engine in your face and the wind blasting by, followed by the adrenaline rush from launching into empty space. Then the shock of the opening chute as the harness almost cuts you in half, followed by the total tranquility of being under a canopy gently drifting earthward. And finally, absolute relief as you mumble to yourself - '<I>thank Christ, my chute opened'</I>.</div> <div> During the second week we were shuffling in line out to the aircraft dressed in full kit when I turned my ankle on an aircraft tiedown. It hurt like hell but I thought I'm not telling the instructors or they'll stand me down. The next few jumps were OK but on the final jump for the day, it caught up with me. The drop zone was a dirt paddock with a compacted hard dirt road running through the centre. On my approach to the target I was running downwind before turning into wind for my final approach. I had misjudged the wind strength and as I turned over the road I discovered my forward speed matched the windspeed which meant my groundspeed was zero and I was in a straight drop to the hard road. I suspect that I was subconsciously concerned about my still sore ankle so landed with most of the impact being taken by my good ankle. It snapped like a twig. An ambulance took me to Fort Dix Army hospital where they had to operate and pin the ankle. Prior to going into surgery, I overheard the surgeon, an Army Major, say he wanted a quick operation as he might be late for his golf game. If I ever ran into this incompetent shit for brains again I would wrap a golf club around his neck. He made such a mess of the operation that I was to spend a total of 6 months in a cast and on crutches. When the cast was removed back in Hawaii 3 months later it was discovered that my ankle was locked solid. The orthopedic surgeon at Tripler Army hospital was quite shocked at the complete botch-job made by the golfing Major. Another operation followed; re-breaking of the bones, more screws and another 3 months in a cast. I was really pissed off as it brought my running, parachuting and flying to a complete halt.</div> <bR> <div> Eventually I recovered sufficiently to complete the water insertion phase of EOD Jump qualifications. The night jumps were the best. We would load up a CH-46 (multi rotor) helicopter with chutes and jump out over Kanehoe Bay. We would exit the aircraft at sufficient altitude to be able to see the lights of Honolulu across the mountain range as we stepped off the ramp. A magnificent sight. On hitting the water we were recovered by a support boat and then our chopper would hover above us to winch us back aboard before climbing back to altitude for the next jump. </div> <bR> <div> What a life!! Doesn't get any better.</div> <bR> <div> My posting was for 2½ years but as I approached the end of my tour, the Mobile Unit  was tasked with a major EOD job in Guam. The CO told me that he wanted to utilize my underwater EOD experience on the job and as a result he was requesting Washington to extend my tour by 6 months, providing I had no objection. Being of reasonably sound mind, I had no objection.</div> <bR> <div> Sadly this posting of a lifetime came to an end, but nothing lasts forever. CPOCD Brian Furner and his family arrived in Jan 1980 and after a 2 week handover, which included me flying them around the Hawaiian islands, my wife and I headed for home.  For me, a brief leave before taking up my new posting as Ops Chief of CDT1.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>