Dick Gardner - Recollections / Then and Now

 

Remember the good old SAC Management Control System---by which Commanders lived & died?  Everything anyone did was analyzed, rated & carried a terrible penalty for the slightest infraction.  My wife, Iva, & I lived in Base housing---we had a Dachshund named Bismarck--absolutely the nastiest,
meanest dog you would ever hope to see--but his greatest sin was running off & a loose animal on base was an absolute NO-NO.  After being cited by Security Police several times the Wing Commander sent a letter to the 567SMS Commander, stating this undisciplined threat to society must be controlled--LTCol Darryl Burchfield was dispatched to our quarters to interview us, obtain all the facts & submit a full-up written report, thusly ensuring the crime would not be repeated. UNFORTUNATELY, old Bis made another escape! Naturally he was apprehended.  Next day, a knock at the door--fortunately for Iva I was home--a Junior officer from the Wing Commander's office handed me an RBI, ordering a cease & desist & immediate written reply from me.   Fortunately for me my next door neighbor was the Base JAG himself--while we were drinking a couple of his home brewed beers, he replied to the Wing CO, telling him my wife & I had both received counseling on proper animal control & I had been duly reminded of my civic & societal responsibilities as an officer.  I was subsequently informed my "case" had been forwarded to SAC HQTRS as one of many examples of Senior Management Control existing on Fairchild AFB!  Bismarck eventually died, not
so much of old age but rather as the result, I believe, of the scorn & embarrassment heaped upon him because he so disdainfully disobeyed the SAC Code of Honor. After Bismarck gave up his dream of usurping control of Fairchild he moved on to better days in the ultimate Dogland. Since my birthday was coming up, Iva bought me a replacement for Biz--a black Labrador puppy whom we named HENRY---we didn't pick another dog name because by that time I think we wanted to make sure the Security Police had no indication we were back in the zoo business.  My guess is that Henry had
read old Biz's obituary because by the age of 6 months he had come to the realization that, despite rumors to the contrary, Base housing was open territory---all for the benefit of man`s best riend---however, he was too big & too fast for the dog catchers.  One warm, beautifully peaceful evening he abruptly brought back vivid, painful memories of the past.  Henry was smart & a fast learner.  By this time Norm Gerlich had taught me the value to our hunting club of a well trained retriever---but I think Henry very possibly learned a bit too much too soon--he was catching on to the basic rudiments of being a retriever but had not as yet caught on to the idea that the fruits of his efforts were supposed to be brought to the master & laid at his feet.  We were sitting in the back yard--the first indication that Henry was on the loose was when he showed up all smiles, tail wagging at the rate of a P-47 propellor---with a bronzed, whole chicken, obviously right off someone`s  BBQ grill!  At this point I realized Henry`s early obedience training did not extend to giving up his chicken which he had acquired all on his own---when I approached him calmly & with steadfast resolve he took off--we never knew where he went because he was fast--realizing my world was about to fall apart--again-- at the Wing CO`s feet.  Just when my darkest fears were looming just overhead, Iva totally devastated me with a brief but chilling, matter-of-fact" here comes the big one" statement. "Dick, you probably don`t realize this but Henry is the only black Lab I`ve ever seen in the housing area & everyone knows him because I walk him on his leash when you`re on alert."

No this is not another dog story --this one`s about a Bobcat---It`s titled "Bobcat Nelson".  One fall day a small group of us were hunting on some land that a very serious, unrelenting farmer had , with great hesitation, given us permission to hunt on, with the proviso that we adhere to safe hunting practices & not shoot near his house & barn area.  Carl Nelson was very near to me & we were very close to the farmer`s  "off limits" area. Two shotgun blasts very nearly blew my eardrums out but I heard Carl exclaim "Jesus, Big Dad, I just shot a Bobcat!" I went over & looked & said "Carl, you just shot that farmer`s big yellow tomcat!" He asked what we should do & I said "put the damn thing back up in the tree where it was & let`s get out of here." I`ve always hoped no uninformed hunter ever stopped there again & asked permission to hunt.

O.K. no more animal stories.   I`m sure we all remember the endless lectures, threats & methodologies of maintaining  security in the MAB---not so much because anyone was likely to swipe an Atlas but rather because it was a very key element of the SAC Management Control System & a VERY reportable incident in the event of an infraction. This goes back to the time period when there were really neat incentives to catch someone in the MAB not wearing their security badge---regardless of who or how important they were.  If you encountered such an individual, you were to yell at the topof your voice  "Seven High", detain or apprehend the unlucky person & await assistance from all the cops on Fairchild (except the ones who were out apprehending my dog).  A few days before I had a very tenuous occasion to talk to Robert Friedli about one of the young troops who was in a bit of trouble--I offered to assume responsibility for his actions & "rehab" back into society in return for dropping the matter--he told me he would let me know (his decision).  But lo & behold I passed him in the hallway--NOT wearing his badge--I pointed to my badge & he immediately caught my drift. He told me not to say a word!   I said OK, Sir, but I need a favor from you. I passed up my reward of a free lunch at the Longhorn (or whatever the prize) & the young troop who had erred ( in the eyes of the SAC MCS!) walked away without further fanfare.