On Mar 8, 4:27 pm, Bertie the Bunyip wrote:

Yep. That's how it works. Great system, eh?

Yes, it is.

Bertie

OK.. story time...

In July 1983 I was an Air Force NCO (sergeant) working 7 day/week12
hour night shifts (6 PM to 6 AM) helping stand-up the Air Launched
Cruise Missile (ALCM) for the 416 Bombardment Wing at Griffiss Air
Force base in upstate NY.

At the time the missile's fielding was in the news as the Soviets
claimed it was "destabilizing" etc, etc. The ALCM was also an issue in
Canadian politics as we (The US Air Force) used a test range in the
Northwest territories which resembled Soviet terrain.

For a variety of reasons, a group of Canadians marched from Canada
down to Rome, NY to protest.

After a shift the day was perfect -- sunny, warm, light breeze. I was
sick of driving home, sleeping, getting up, and driving back, so on a
lark I jumped in my blue Ford Escort and headed north.

I was still in uniform when I came upon the marchers out in desolate
stretch of backcountry road. I smiled and waved as I drove north as
they marched south, but I don't think they knew who or what I was.

Near the end of the line a few guys jumped the line and made me stop
my car. When a few saw my uniform they scurried off, until half a
dozen surrounded my car. I rolled the windows down and said, "So
what's going on, eh?"

(As background -- my mother's family is Canadian and I spent my first
5 years in Canada and every summer after that. This meant I had the
twin cultural burdens of arrogance and guilt).

A few shouted slogans and I just waved them off.

One stayed near the passenger side window and had a cooler head. Soon
we were in a deep discussion about the nature of war, the insanity of
MAD, and the relative morality of Soviet and American empire.

This went on for about 45 minutes, when it dawned on both of us that
his group was now far, far down the road.

"Hop in and I'll give you a ride back," says I.

"Sure," says he and away we go, passing slow enough that everyone in
the crowd could see one of their number being hauled away in a Blue
Escort by a US Air Force NCO.

I stopped at the head of the line and he got out. We shook hands and
wished each other well while his cohorts looked on it stunned shock.

I drove home and went to bed, thinking nothing more of it, until the
next day when the Squadron First Sergeant said the CO heard about some
rogue Airmen helping out the protesters (they later made it on base
and threw some blood/red paint on the bone bird -- a B-52 hulk used
for parts and lightly guarded).

I borrowed my wife's car the next few days.




Dan


NY Times link: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpag...C0A9659482 60)