|Issue 32||August 1998||Volume 3 - Number 9|
Welcome to the CANDOER News. Suggestions as to what you would like to see in the CANDOER are welcome. Letters to the editor, articles consisting of general information, feature articles, G-rated jokes, or poems, written/submitted by retirees or OC/IM employees, past or present, will be published, unedited. Material may be submitted on a 3.5" floppy disk (disk will be returned) using WordPerfect Version 6.1 or earlier (if it contains graphics), on a plain sheet of paper (if it has no graphics) or via e-mail. The deadline for submitting material is no later than the 25th of each month. Material received after that date will be published in the next issue of the CANDOER, space allowing. Please, restrict articles/submissions to two single spaced, typed pages. No hand written submissions, please.
The snail-mail address for submissions or letters to the editor is:
Robert J. Catlin, Sr.
Publisher/Editor CANDOER News
2670 Dakota Street
Bryans Road, MD 20616-3062
Catís Corner has chased ďThe Samson SagasĒ off the front page to make a plea, again.
I am sure you have noticed that the last two issues were shorter than previous issues. I have done my best to keep the CANDOER a minimum/maximum of 16 pages--except for the December issue.
Future issues may shrink even further, if I donít receive more stories or articles. PLEASE, there are no professional writers in this Newsletter, you are among friends and colleagues. There are a million stories and memories out there, please put them on paper and send them to me. If you feel they need editing, say so, my wife Nancy is my editor. She contributes several hours to every issue doing the editing. Together we can keep the CANDOER an interesting and enjoyable Newsletter, for years to come.
I have reduced the donation for a subscription to the Newsletter and Directory of Members. Due to the fact so many of you donate more than $20 per year, as you can see by the Treasury Report at the end of each issue, I have accumulated a surplus of funds in both the Newsletter and Memorial funds. The yearly donation will be reduced to $18 per year, of which $16 will go toward the Newsletter fund and $2 will go toward the Memorial fund. As always, any extra money you include in your donation will go toward the Memorial fund.
REMINDER, last month, in an e-mail and in CATíS CORNER (June 1998, Issue 30, Volume 3 - Number 7), I asked all members to send me a list of assignments during your career. The response has been very light, so far. You furnish the information, I will publish it in the next issuance of the Directory of Members. Be sure to include the year the assignment started and ended.
In Dublin we had our favorite neighborhood pub and were well acquainted with a few others just in case the favorite burned down. Everyone in Ireland has a regular pub and a few backups. As in many other European countries, people generally joined friends at such places which required no large living rooms in their homes which few people had anyway, or the chore of having to prepare the house for guests and cleaning up a mess after company left.
Our pub was about eight blocks away and could hold perhaps 150 patrons in ... I think about four main rooms. It was a really comfortable pub, particularly in winter, ecause it had a massive fireplace in each of the main rooms and we usually got there early enough to sit where we, or perhaps I should say, Samson, wanted.
There were tables and chairs, of course, but we favored the upholstered lounge benches. These benches had high backs,and on the wall, above the back, every ten feet or so, was a push-button, like a door bell button. A person summoned a waiter for another drink, or launch a poodle, by giving the button a push. It sounded just like the door bell at home.
The Irish, like the Spanish and Germans (and perhaps other nationalities) permitted well behaved animals in their pubs and, being the head honcho of our household, Samson always went to the pub with us. He had his favorite room and favorite spot in it, one which gave him a good view of the room and one end of the bar (actually, the serving area) and beyond into part of one of the other main rooms. He perched on the bench and kept an eye on all who entered. He had one particularly cute trait, that of crossing one front paw over the top of the other. It was apparently the most comfortable way for him to lay when he didn't lay on his side which he found too informal for a pub. I need hardly say that he attracted a lot of attention. He accepted this attention as being natural - after all who could resist a miniature silver poodle, with front paw crossed over the other, alertly watching the activity in his room? Because so many people asked to pet him, we got to meet folks whom we otherwise wouldn't have, which is one of the things we liked about pubs. But ... when anyone pushed the button for another round, (and some did just to watch the little devil) Samson took off. Everyone laughed and watched him charge toward the bar but he immediately responded to my call to stop and come back. Certainly the gov'nor would have told us if this was any problem and he never did. I suspect the gov'nor would have given us a discount for the extra business Samson brought in had we asked.
On July 7, the following was received from Tim Lawson:
Dear Friends and Business Colleagues
I will be leaving Hong Kong for my new assignment to American Embassy Bangkok, shortly. My e-mail address, email@example.com, will be terminated in about two weeks time (on or about July 24, 1998).
This e-mail address belongs to my Mother and Father in Ohio. I will be there sometime in August, and will check e-mail regularly until my departure for Bangkok, in the first week of October.
Once established in Bangkok, I will have a new e-mail account and will be back in touch.
The news has been full of stories about the many fires in Florida. At Will Naeherís urging, I sent an e-mail to those members in Florida who have e-mail capabilities. Below you will find the result of that query.
I live in Escambia County, in NW Florida and we are the only county, so far, without some sort of fire. Lucky I guess! Central Florida has been hit very hard and the folks there have been evacuated from some counties. It is dry as desert here and no rain of any consequence in the forecast. Bad News.
We live on the West Coast of Florida and therefore the fires have not made it here. We had a couple at work in Dade county, but nothing serious. Thanks for the concern though.
James A. Griffin
Fortunately for those living on the Gulf the fires have been small with very little damage. Regards
No problems in South Florida.
Appreciate the inquiry, but all is well here. Take Care.
No fires in this area. Do not know personally anyone who has been evacuated, but if they live in Flagler, Volusia, or Brevard County, the odds are that they have. Things are looking up all over; we have had an extended drought, but have had the normal afternoon thunderstorms every day this past week, several inches of rain. Fortunately, we had nearly 25 inches of excess rain in December, January, and February, so the ponds are about normal for this time of year. Regards
Smelled smoke, but that was the limit of the problem for us. Thank God.
I have spoken with Dee several times and luckily the fires were to the east of Ocala. We did not have to evacuate thank goodness. However, I did receive an e-mail from her stating she heard Mike Carson in Palm Coast had to leave. We have not heard from him. Dee tried to call them to invite them down to our place, but could not get through as they may have already departed. Cheers
Thanks for your concern. Nivea and I just arrived home from a short vacation up north to Connecticut. We took the AutoTrain on July 1st in Sandord, FL which is just north of Orlando. Instead of arriving at Lorton, VA at 9:00 a.m. July 2nd, we arrived on July 3rd at 12:30 a.m. Our train was diverted from Sanford to Tampa (a backward ride literally) so that we could take an alternate route north to escape the wild fires. I-95 was closed down as well just north of Orlando.
On our way back home on July 10, we witnessed (from the train and our car) a number of areas which had been affected by the fire. The most heavily damaged area we passed was in Volusia County. All the fires were out, but there was much smoldering and lots of smoke. Take care
As usual clean living continues to pay off. Gulf Coast of Florida was spared the fires which engulfed the mid-Atlantic side of the state. Have been in touch with colleagues in the hardest hit areas, Daytona Beach and environs. No damages reported from their, other than a bit of smoke eating and watering eyes. (Under some circumstances those discomforts may be produced by other than wild fires.)
If any other information becomes available, will pass it on.
Thanks for thinking of us. Cheers
Dick and Jean McCloughan
We were spared - the nearest fire we experienced was west of us in the Land OíLakes area, about 10 miles away.
Mike and Penny Carson, from Palm Coast in Flagler Country evacuated to Jacksonville and spent a day or two there before being allowed back home. Fortunately, their house was not hit. I talked to Penny and she advised they just had a lot of soot to clean up. Weíve had several days of rain here in Pasco Country, so hopefully the worst of the dry spell is over for the time being.
None of the Florida fires affected us in Pasco country, but in the future, if any of the retirees need a place to stay during an eviction, we have a spare bedroom to house a couple until things get back to normal. We reside near Zephyrhills (Central East Florida - North of Tampa.) Store this for future reference. Warm regards
More on Mike and Penny Carson.
They evacuated their house in the middle of the night when the gendarmes came and beat upon their door and advised them to leave. They took both cars and were quite concerned, of course. They spent one night in a shelter and were then allowed back into their area the next day. When they returned home, all was well.
Things here are normal. Problems were mostly confined to the north and northeastern portion of the state. Thanks for inquiring.
Thanks to Herb Walden, my high school friend, for the following thoughts:
There is nothing whatever the matter with me
I am just as healthy as I can be.
I have arthritis in both my knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is week and my blood is thin,
But Iím awfully well for the shape Iím in.
My teeth eventually have to come out
And my diet---I hate to think about.
I am overweight and I canít get thin,
But Iím awfully well for the shape Iím in.
I think my liver is out of whack,
And a terrible pain is in my back.
My hearing is poor, my sight is dim;
Most every thing seems to be out of trim,
But Iím awfully well for the shape Iím in.
I have arch supports for both of my feet,
Or I wouldnít be able to go out on the street.
Sleeplessness I have night after night,
And in the morning, Iím just a sight!
My memories failing, my headís in a spin
Iím practically living on aspirin,
But Iím awfully well for the shape Iím in.
The moral is, as this tail we unfold,
That for you and me who are growing old,
Itís better to say, ďIím fine,Ē with a grin
Than to let them know the shape weíre in
It is with deep regret that I inform of the death of one of our colleagues, Robert L. Scott. Bob was a long-time member of the Foreign Service. Bob died of cancer.
On Sunday, June 28, I received an e-mail from Bob Reed advising me he has changed ISPís. His new e-mail address may be found in the Pen and Ink section and on the last page of this issue.
On Sunday, June 28, I received an e-mail from Will Naeher. Will has been sick. He spent two days in the hospital after having benign polyps removed from his colon. I have sent a get well card to Will from the CANDOERs.
On Monday evening, I called Will. He said he is doing well and has fully recovered. He had a lot of bleeding from the surgery and was just recovering from bronchitis at the time of the surgery, so it took him a little while to get back on his feet.
In an e-mail received on Monday, June 29, Paul Nugnes informed me that Deborah and he are headed for Harare. Until he can establish a new ISP he will no longer have an e-mail address. His new snail-mail address may be found in the Pen and Ink section of this issue.
In an e-mail received on July 7, Gary Richardson furnished a new e-mail address. This information may be found in the Pen and Ink section of this issue.
In an e-mail message received on July 8, George Sura informed me that Eleanor and he are moving to Pennsylvania on July 22. His new snail-mail address and telephone number may be found in the Pen and Ink section of this issue. His e-mail address will remain the same, until he gets settled and looks into another ISP.
On July 22, I received a call from Ed Peters. Ed has a new e-mail address. It may be found in the Pen and Ink section of this issue, as well as on the last page.
On July 23, after notifying everyone my capability to send ALCAN messages to multiple addresses, I received an e-mail from Tom Paolozzi. Tom now has a home e-mail address that may be used. Tomís home e-mail address may be found in the Pend and Ink section of this issues, as well as on the last page.
Former Foreign Service communicator, Carl Bottleman, loved to tell of his experiences while serving as a radioman in the Coast Guard.
One day while his ship was patrolling at sea off the coast of Miami, Florida he picked up a radio conversation between the captain of a stalled yacht (Sea Breeze) somewhere on the ocean and a shore marine engineering service.
Obviously there was a mechanical failure, difference of opinion and heated discussions.
But what got Carl's attention was the exceptional foul language back and forth between the captain and the shore mechanic.
Carl interrupted the stream of transmissions by saying "This is Coast Guard 456. Sea Breeze identify your location. Your on-air language violates FCC regulations."
To which the Sea Breeze responded, "I may be all @#$%&*ed up, but I'm not that @#$%&ed up!"
In July I married Roberta Parks in Westfield, New Jersey, and we set sail on the SS America to Southampton, then by rail to London.
We arrived in August and were put up at the Cumberland Hotel near the Marble Arch.
The Embassy was then located at Number One Grosvenor Square.
I was on duty in the Classified Pouch Room. Joe Miles was Supervisor. My colleagues were George Furr, Jack Cole, Preben Nielsen, and Frank Kozak.
The Unclassified Pouch Room was headed by Henry Pippen and a dear lady who handled the messenger boys like a scene out of Charles Dickens. She was Mrs. Cresswell or ďCressy!Ē Several of the boys had grown to men and were on the Embassy staff, including Ron Verney and Ron Gregory, when I returned in 1972, on our final FS tour.
Food was still rationed in 1952. We found an apartment nearby, in Cambridge Square, a short walk from the Embassy. Roberta registered at the local greenís grocer to get butter, sugar, coffee, and other rationed items. There was a small Commissary where the new Embassy now stands. It featured Irish beef, Dutch bacon, and other hard to find items. The Navy Exchange on North Audley provided a Shipís Store along with the Keysign House USAF PX.
Joan Auten was a member of the Embassy who all of us knew and loved for her assistance. She was always ďJoanieĒ and will be remembered by Americans stationed at the Embassy. Joanie had a close connection to America and performed many years of assistance to high level members of Congress, Visiting SECSTATE and staffs.
Daily I made my rounds in a Humber sedan to the Ministries and U.S. elements, delivering Classified, with side trips to 3rd AF at Ruslip and meeting Diplomatic Couriers at Northolt or Heathrow.
The Communications Officer was John G. Bacon. His Code Room Assistant was Frances Brennan. Felden ďMacĒ McCloud was the technician. The RIF came and reduced the Communications Staff! I spent the entire tour in the Pouch Room, until I resigned in 1953.
That summer, our son David was born in London. Roberta still recalls the excellent care she received in a Nursing Home for new babies. The care lasted more than a week, including daily tea parties.
The Embassy staff changed when the Republicans swept back into power under Ike. Winthrop Aldridge was Ambassador. The Residence was at 49 Prince Gate. The Air Force had a club in the present Residence.
I resigned since I felt that opportunities for advancement would lessen under the new administration bent on cutting the career Foreign Service.
London had to slowly start rebuilding from the terrible damages inflicted by the German Air Force. Some buildings near the Embassy were open shells!
But in 1953, the British celebrated the Coronation of Elizabeth III, with pageantry and parades such as only the Brits can stage them. Decorations were on all buildings along Oxford Street. The Embassy had a display of flags in front of Number One.
Since tours had been extended and promotions were threatened, I submitted my resignation. We departed post from Southampton on the SS America. That late fall crossing of the North Atlantic resulted travel in big storms. Then Asian flu broke out with the many State and Military passengers. It was not a pleasant trip!
We left the service and moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where I was employed with Blue Cross-Blue Shield in the Tabulating Room, operating IBM equipment, a skill I had previously acquired in the Signal Corps at Brisbane.
In mid-July 1954, we returned to Washington. A stop at State, and a chat with Elsie Crim, indicated the Foreign Service was hiring again; but I would have to have my security clearance updated since 1950. This took until July 1955, when we were assigned to The Hague.
In the meantime, our son began to grow up. I was employed under Civil Service in The Navy-Bureau of Ships. I ran onto Bob Lucas and others since CY had offices in the Main Navy along Constitution Avenue.
We also met Kabul friends who were returning or leaving the Service.
Communications at State were still in the Dark Ages!
The Division of Communications and Records, under Robert Kreer, could not obtain the necessary funding to update, so State and the Foreign Service limped along into the 1960's, when the Cuban Missile Crisis caused serious problems.
The following was received from Jim Gansel:
What If Dr. Seuss Wrote Computer Tech Manuals?
If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
And the bus is interrupted as a very last resort,
And the address of the memory makes your floppy disk abort,
Then the socket packet pocket has an error to report!
If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
And the double-clicking icons put your window in the trash,
And your data is corrupted 'cause the index doesn't hash,
Then your situation's hopeless, and your systems gonna crash!
If the label on your cable on the gable at your house,
Says the network is connected to the button on your mouse,
But your packets want to tunnel to another protocol,
That's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall.
And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss,
So your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse,
Then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang,
"Cause as sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang!
When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy on the disk,
And the micro-code instructions cause unnecessary RISC,
Then you have to flash your memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM,
Quickly turn off your computer and be sure to tell your mom!
Upon graduation from high school, I applied for a job with RCA Global Communications. My brother-in-law, Arthur, was a radio operator with that company and he said they were expanding, so go to it. In addition, an old time RCA radio operator ran a school for employees that taught radio operation. Employees could go to it, on their off hours, and he would do the instruction. From that point, you then went at it for whatever time you could devote to that speciality. This, especially in 1940, sounded just great.
I had to start off as a messenger. I was assigned to the Central Park West Office. Our area extended all the way to Harlem, where many refugees had begun to settle and were pretty good customers. Most deliveries were on foot. The further areas were covered by subway and one would be handed ten cents for the round trip run. During the times I had to make that trip, contrary to popular belief, it was not particularly dangerous. Either that or I was too naive to recognize a tough area. So, resplendent in my green uniform with red piping, off I went on my rounds. Occasionally, I had to take the overnight file to the Madison Avenue office, which had continuous hours. That was fun, as it brought you past the many high priced hotels and restaurants. If you were alert you could spot many celebrities. With training in riding the subways, one became quite adept at this sort of spotting. Twice I saw Anne Southern, one of my favorites. Another time, Joan Crawford on a windy day, with her red hair flowing in the wind. Once, on the subway run, I sat next to Bob Seeds, the minor league sensation who was their home run king. He had been brought up with the Giants and was fairly new, but had been given lots of press play. He never made it big, but stayed around for a while.
After four months on the job, my manager, Bob Ryan, recommended me for a clerk job at the main office at 40 Broad Street, in the heart of the financial district. I was thrilled, since it then gave me a chance to undertake study for becoming a radio operator. However, I had to wait since the company personnel went on strike. Instead of moving to the main office, I was doing picket duty for which I received $4. Fortunately, the strike was short lived and off I went to my new job, having gotten a raise even before I started. One of the benefits gained was $1 for supper money, when working two hours overtime, which later proved to be great, since I worked plenty of overtime. Some weeks I brought home over $40, from a starting salary of $23 a week. To me it was manna and I was able to give my mother at least $20 a week, plus a Ĺ pound of Fanny Farmer chocolates, her favorite. With the rest, I supported myself and even started a small savings account, which in those days was pretty exciting.
My duties consisted of running the Higit Machine. This was a stand with a large gelatin roll which had to be kept wet. You were given an apron, placed the cables on the roll, face down, then ran a roller over them and made the necessary two copies. Then the cables were sent on a belt to the delivery section. One other copy went to file and one to accounts. Other duties included filing, searching the missing list for the accounts people, and the most dreaded duty of all, placing a roll of tape on the radio operator position. This required taking a Ĺ inch roll of tape, gluing it onto the roll already at the position and making sure you kept the operator in full motion. For sure, the first couple of times I didnít put enough glue on or twisted the roll and caused it to break. Needless to say, I was called a few choice words. One operator, whom we all detested, had a few breaks when called to his station. After a while, the task was mastered.
Occasionally, the clerks were asked to help at the service desk, to clear backlogs. This was a special job and manned by senior clerical personnel, who milked it for all their worth, to gain overtime. When the new clerks, such as myself and two others, got to help, there was all hell from the union representative and we were pulled off the job. It really turned out to be a cat and mouse game by my supervisor and the union representative, both of whom later became my friends. In fact, when I later was drafted into the U.S. Army, they both were after inductees with some communications experience. Mr. Jennings had a commission with the OSS and John McKenna went on as a Master Sergeant to build a cadre for the Pentagon Army Communications Center. I would up as Pentagon Commando, with others from RCA and other cable companies. This is for a later story.
Clerical duties required rotating shifts, which I particularly enjoyed, especially the 6:00 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. shift, which always got me some overtime. If not, it seemed like I had the whole day to myself after work.
Soon after I started, the U.S. Navy entered the office and took over the job of censorship, as we prepared for a war. It slowed things up, but added a sense of drama and romance to the job.
One day I received a letter from the famous band and chorale leader, Fred Waring, asking if I would like to try out for a new chorus. It was to be called the Robert Shaw Chorale and would consist of amateurs and professionals. The invitation came about because I had sung in the All City Chorus of New York, representing my high school, New Utrecht of Brooklyn. This caused plenty of excitement in the family and off I went for the tryout. After an initial oral exam, we were divided into group of tenors, bass, sopranos, and altos and were voice tested. I was selected to join and now was faced with getting a steady shift, which would allow me to attend rehearsals and performances. I went to Mr. Jennings, asked if I could work the midnight shift, on a steady basis, and cited the reason for the request. He said, if the other clerks didnít object, it was mine. Since no one particularly was fond of that tour of duty, I won out.
With the energy of youth, I was able to work overtime, participate with a bowling team, sing and get along on five or six hours of sleep, with plenty of steam left over.
The chorus became world famous and today still tours and records. Three years ago, Robert Shaw was honored at the Kennedy Center. Although my time with Mr. Shaw lasted for only a little over a year, I did sing at Carnegie Hall, at several benefits, on radio, and was paid twice, earning me the title of professional, I guess. Uncle Sam interfered with my signing career and off I went with the Army. My basic training was exciting, even though we had to use the old Enfield rifle, which was bolt action and a challenge to clean. The greatest gift from my basic training was that I went from 138 pounds to 153 pounds and slept like a rock.
The communications training continued and although I never got to use my radio operator training, it went on for 50 years. I had worked up to sending 10 words a minute and copying 12, which I suppose was not too bad. From that point, it is another story, for another time.
It was March or April 1978 and the place was Israel. My wife and I had gone to Jerusalem with our six months old daughter who is now an engineering student in university. We had driven "down the hill" from Jerusalem and had to skirt the northeastern edge of Tel Aviv in order to get to our home in the town of Herzlya-Petuach, which lies about ten kilometers north of Tel Aviv, right on the Mediterranean Coast and just a few blocks from the beach. Suzy had trained us to never forget that there were two events about which she had virtually no tolerance for our poor planning. One was food and the other was nap time. When she realized she was hungry she wanted food in seconds, not minutes and when she was tired she wanted her crib, peace and quiet, and wasn't about to wait around for that either.
Since her nap time was approaching I drove as fast as I dared and was about five miles from joining the four-lane main coastal highway that extends north from Tel Aviv to and beyond the city of Haifa which is perhaps a hundred miles north. Fortunately, I knew the territory quite well because when I saw cars drive every which way and mostly off the highway, I looked east half a mile and saw a huge black column of smoke rising into the sky. I cursed my misfortune, cast an eye to Suzy who was in Mom's lap and still quiet (though I realized the clock was ticking) and did a rapid U-turn heading back half a mile to take a narrow road that led north into a village just a mile north. From there I took another lane to the city of Herzlya and from there tore across a farm area beyond which we would get back to the main coastal highway. But there were army roadblocks which stopped us.
A soldier asked me where I was headed (she recognized the diplomatic style license plates on the car) and I told her we were trying to get across the main highway to get to our house just a quarter mile away. I pointed to Suzy and said she was ill. The Solder allowed us to pass but sternly warned me to go into our house and remain there until we were personally told that it would be ok to leave our house. I asked what was going on. She just said one word: "Terrorists".
I might have set a new speed record driving into Herzlya-Petuach; I drove into the garage and then phoned friends to ask what the hell was going on. The answer was chilling.
Earlier that morning a rubber boat with a bunch of Arabs had landed on the beach just south of Haifa. A young American woman, an amateur archeologist, was near the beach digging for pot shards when the Arabs came ashore. The beach, sand dunes really, allowed the terrorists to approach to a point that they were practically on top of her before they saw her or she saw them. They immediately shot her. They then continued, on foot, several hundred yards to the main coastal highway where they pretended to be Israelis waiting for a south-bound bus. They commandeered the bus and tied every passenger's hands to the seat in front of them. They ordered the driver to head for Tel Aviv. As they proceeded south, they fired machine guns through the windows at passing vehicles. Many were killed, including a little girl who sat on her grand father's lap as her dad drove their car. One report of that incident described it as the child's head exploding.
Many other's were shot as the bus continued south but the Israelis got control of the situation about five kilometers north of Tel Aviv by placing roadblocks across the main highway. The bus driver was ordered to pull off the highway but the bus bogged down in the sand. At this point, all hell broke loose.
Many Israelis have military weapons in their vehicles, just for occasions like this. The problem is, they go absolutely nuts and perhaps I would too under similar conditions. Anyway, Israelis pulled off the highway when they realized what was going on (we saw that but didn't understand the situation) and got out their weapons - I mean heavy machine guns folks. They proceeded to blast away at the bus while the passengers were still tied to the seats in front of them! The bus was set afire and many people died, some from the fire and some from bullets. This was the situation, but for about one minute, we would have driven into.
Several terrorists fled the bus, heading for the beach which was nearly a mile west along this part of the main highway. The search for them was the reason everyone was confined to their homes.
Several hours later I decided to take Samson outside for a quickie - not out to the street - just to the shrubs along the side of the house but I didn't get two feet before a soldier shouted at me to get into the house. He scared the poop out of me and I promptly did as I was told.
Such is the fervor with which Israelis deal with terrorists that no one seriously doubted that, if terrorists came ashore, stormed and took over the Embassy (practically on the beach in the southern part of Tel Aviv) the Israeli Army would level the building and kill every single terrorist. Probably every one else too. They don't fool around much in that part of the world.
As stated previously, the ATS was fully redundant. Therefore, we had two very large magnetic drums. After about a year of operations, ITT recommended that the drums be resurfaced. A spare drum was installed on the system and one of the drums was shipped to Los Angeles for resurfacing. Because the drum contained highly classified data, a program was written to over write the drum many times with Xís and Oís repeatedly on the surface of the drum. At the insistence of NSA, the drum was moved under armed guard and must remain under constant guard. We bought two first class tickets on American Airlines non-stop to Los Angeles. Ernie Field accompanied the drum. Ernie reserved first class seats for him and the drum and give the airlines my phone number. I received a call from American Airlines asking me how Mr. Drum would like his steak?
We transported the drum to National Airport by armored car. He was met by an armored car in L.A. He accompanied the drum to the factory where the drum was placed on a lathe and the surface was stripped. The chips were collected and put in a plastic bag. Ernie brought the bag back and we sent it to NSA. I guess they may still have them stored someplace.