I was enjoying liberty on the main base with one of my fellow RMs. I am a non-drinker but he wasn't and became rather "sloshed" at the Acey-Deucy club.........

Where’s the Beef?

By John R Smith

Not long after my arrival in Kodiak, I was enjoying liberty on the main base with one of my fellow RMs. I am a non-drinker but he wasn't and became rather "sloshed" at the Acey-Deucy club.

Anyone stationed at CG Radio Station Kodiak (NOJ) in the '50s, '60s and early '70s will remember the spacious, luxurious Holiday Beach barracks we shared with the Navy. Featuring "institutional green" walls throughout and tubular steel bunk beds with 2" thick mattresses, this comfortable residence was located some 12 miles from the main air station, and transportation for those of us without a car was by Navy six-passenger pickup truck, which made the round-trip run from the barracks and back at least twice a day, and sometimes in the evening on weekends.

Because of my friend's less-than-ideal physical condition, we missed the late-night run back to the barracks. Instead of using common sense and staying on the base for the night, we started the 12-mile trek back to "the beach" on foot. Obviously, I was not happy with the RM2, but was too "green" to not be intimidated by his stripes. A full moon helped light our way along the dirt road, and that made it easier than trying to find our way in pitch dark.

We had walked more than a mile and were in the area known as "Bell's Flats" (a reference point for you old NOJ-ers), when he came upon a large, dark object in the middle of the road. Stating that he always kicked things laying in the middle of the road (an unusual habit, to be sure!), he ran up to the object and attempted a football-style kick. The ensuing sound was something like "splot", and he promptly introduced himself to a fresh cow pie. He had forgotten that cattle enjoy "open range" roaming on Kodiak, but that fact became quite apparent to him in very short order. A malodorous aroma soon filled the area and he began speaking loudly in foreign tongues. His demeanor was not enhanced by the fact that I was laughing uncontrollably and hysterically at his expense.

After finding some grass to clean his shoes adequately, we continued our journey. Not long afterward, we were given a ride to the barracks by a local rancher friendly to the Coasties at Holiday Beach. The pickup cab was full, so we rode back in the bed - directly on top of two frozen cow carcasses! The RM2 swore me to silence, but the aroma from his shoes preceded him into the barracks, and laughter from the late-nighters took over where my laughter left off. His remaining few weeks on Kodiak were probably less pleasant than they could have been had he made slightly different choices.

I only wonder if he still kicks objects in the road.


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