Fall, 1969/Winter, 1970 -- “On Your Mark....”

The year I got my Earhart Award was the year I applied for IACE. I had been very active in Wing-level affairs like summer encampments, SARCAPS, REDCAPS and the Cadet Advisory Council; so figured I had a long shot, at least....

On February 17, 1970 a letter from Louisiana Wing Headquarters arrived telling me I’d been selected to attend IACE. My jaw hit the floor; I was one of three Cadets from Louisiana that would participate in IACE that year.

In May a packet from National Headquarters informed that Sweden was to be “The Place”. It also contained information on ordering the required Blazer Uniform and special patches. My excitement really began to build -- this was the big league!!!

“But, where the hell is Sweden,”? I wondered and guessed that researching this important tidbit wouldn’t hurt.

Spring/Early Summer, 1970 -- “Get Set...”

With that also came the realization there were a lot of preparations to make. I had to get busy; a passport, shots, uniforms, clothing and a job to pay for all of this were top priorities now.

Quite a wardrobe was needed, for one thing. A CAP blazer, with special crest, patches and tie, along with several changes of white shirts and gray slacks made up the required Blazer Uniform combination. Also, a dress uniform and several service uniforms, all with appropriate insignia. Add to the list civvies and enough personal articles to last for a month. Finally, don’t forget incidentals like a camera, loads of film, and as much spending money as could be amassed -- this was the trip of a lifetime, remember.

Without a current job and few resources, rounding all this up was going to be a real chore. My grandmother’s home in Lafayette, Louisiana offered a place to stay and to find a summer job. Traveling from New Orleans on the venerable “Sunset Limited” passenger train, the steel wheels clicking over the rails sounded like a countdown clock.

In Lafayette, I applied at a local offshore oil well service company and hired-on as a shop hand. Boy, was that an experience!! It was hard, physical work, performed by hard, physical men in the soupy heat of southern Louisiana. We steam cleaned, sand blasted, and painted the heavy equipment used for portable oil well testing. We repaired valves, cleaned drilling pipe, and did just about every shop job imaginable. Each payday, though, purchased this item or that, some clothing here, some film there, and a few traveler's checks on the side. It was like a real-life Horatio Alger story...

To help spur things on, National HQ sent several packets of information, travel orders, plane tickets, itineraries, and the all-important “IACE Guidebook”. The guidebook was loaded with of do’s and don’ts for provincial Americans going abroad for the first time.

From my end, I wrote the Swedish consulate in Washington and got a package from them. The New Orleans Chamber of Commerce provided a packet bulging with pictures, Mardi Gras doubloons and all kinds of info on New Orleans. NASA-Michoud, likewise, sent loads of propaganda on our space program.

My bag of tricks was completed with an authentic key to the City of New Orleans and a Certificate of Honorary Citizenship signed by the Mayor himself. I didn’t know whom I’d give it to, but thought it would help to make a great impression. Heck, I felt like a one-man State Department.

Late Summer, 1970 -- “GO!”

Monday, 20 July, 1970 -- Home, Washington, DC

Finally, the big day came and I was packed and ready. My buddy, Lionel Booth drove me over to the New Orleans International Airport for a flight to Washington, DC, the first leg of the journey. After landing at Washington National at 1320 hours, arriving Cadets were brought to the Manger-Annapolis hotel, just a block off Pennsylvania Avenue.

The rest of the afternoon was billed as free time for us to look around until that evening’s banquet -- the first of many, many, many such meals!!! I walked over to Pennsylvania Avenue and marveled at the mighty buildings and the history and power they represent but then was panhandled by a derelict on the way back.

Getting back, it was time to change and go to the banquet at 2000 hours. There was a briefing about the departure plans the next day and a full dose about the standards of behavior CAP expected of their hand-selected representatives of the United States. Get out of line and being shot at sunrise would seem a pleasant way out....

The uniform briefing was also an eye-opener for some. Swagger-roo’s from the several “elite” outfits were stripped of a wild assortment of berets, fourrageres, colored scarves and jump boots. These guys probably felt they looked pretty tough, but to conservative Europeans they would simply look like another bunch of Yankee cowboys; and be a laughingstock.

Upstairs in my room I met our Senior Escort Officer, 1LT Arne Stenlund from Goodhue, Minnesota. In the 1800’s, parts of Minnesota had been settled by large groups of Scandinavians. He was a second-generation descendant and even spoke some Swedish. Arne was a genial gentleman, used to the uncomplicated life afforded by his farm. Moreover, he was the epitome of the provincial America tourist.

“How do you like this crazy new outfit I bought before I left home?” He beamed, admiring his gray uniform slacks, light-blue checked shirt, and pink and gray hounds-tooth coat. He was busily knotting an Air Force uniform blue tie.

“Crazy....”, I agreed. We went on to become pretty good friends and he even invited me to spend a summer on his farm, a year or so later. He left to visit with the other Senior Members; while I packed for the next day, visited with a Cadet roommate, then turned in.

Tuesday, 21 July, 1970 -- Andrews AFB, Rhein-Main AB

After an 0630 wake-up and togged out in blazer uniform, we all went down for the 0830 breakfast. This was to be a day of “hurry up and wait”-- and all the while everyone just itching to GET GOING!!

Since we’d packed and did not have another briefing until 1130 a couple of us went back out for a walk. We strolled along Pennsylvania Avenue, visited the US Capitol and took a few pictures. Getting back, we received departure schedules and changed into 1505 short-sleeved summer service uniforms.

After lunch, we wrestled our luggage downstairs and were herded about by some local enlisted-grade Cadets. These guys really enjoyed gang bossing the hundred or so Cadet Officers there but calmed down when a few lessons in military courtesy were dispensed (“Look, it’s ‘Shut-up, Sir’-- see!!”). They were probably as glad to see us go, as we were to be on our way.

A Flashcube comprises four AG1 size "peanut"-type flashbulbs, in a plastic cube-shaped housing (hence the name), that are fired conventionally by a battery in the camera or Flashcube Adaptor, consequently there are four pairs of wires on the base of the Flashcube that connect with contacts in the camera. A normal flash-synchronisation circuit in the shutter of the camera fires the forward-facing bulb at the appropriate time. On most cameras designed for Flashcubes, the cube is automatically rotated to the next bulb as the film is wound, but there is no indication in the viewfinder that the bulb now facing forward is used or otherwise.

The terminal was near the hanger where one of the President’s 707 -- Air Force One -- was kept and the place was alive with security guards. You wouldn’t just walk up and kick the tires on THAT baby without attracting some attention, nossir!!

Cadets going to European countries boarded a couple of C-141 Starlifters for the Rhein-Main Air Base near Frankfurt, Germany. The planes had a passenger service configuration. A roll-on module up forward featured a kitchen, food storage and rest rooms for everyone. Seating was eight, maybe, twelve rear-facing seats across; with the seats separated by a tight aisle. It was clear that this was not going to be a luxury-class flight. The seats were very narrow and so close that I had to sit on the last row Being tall, my knees wouldn’t fit when I sat down otherwise.

Take off was at 1830 for a seven and a half hour flight, which jumped about six time zones. It was at 39,000 feet, with a minus 60-degree’s outside, that I made an important discovery about the C-141, namely, that it was COLD!!! The heaters in a “141” were at the wing roots, near the middle of he plane, and my seat was at the very tail, by the ramp door. About four blankets and my field jacket provided a temporary “fix," but it was pretty miserable. Even the novelty of an Air Force in-flight meal (a box lunch) was no help. We did get to go up to the “office” visit the pilots and gawk at the instrumentation, though.

Wednesday, 22 July, 1970 -- Rhein-Main AB

Touch down at Rhein-Main was at 0740. The air was foggy and it was 43-degree’s -- in July, yet!! Heck, I wanted to warm-up!

Our group bussed over to the Transient Quarters; some old Luftwaffe barracks dating back to the Nazi’s in World War II. I was surprised to see an eagle and swastika emblem embossed in the concrete above the door. As we entered I saw that the architecture was dated -- kind of an art deco -- but, boy, was this place sturdy!! Well, I guessed, the Nazi’s HAD intended to be around a thousand years, before the Allies changed their plans.

We claimed our luggage, and I had my first brush with a first-class jerk, C/LTC Stephen (Due to opsec - and the fact that everyone was younger and stupider then - only first names are used to protect the guilty. - Ed.). He was in our group going to Sweden, and I tried to make conversation. He was a tall, skinny kid who wore mirrored sunglasses, had pinched features and bad teeth; truly an ugly "Ugly American". He let it be known that, since he was the ranking Cadet in our group, I should have carried his luggage up to his room. He even pointed out that he could’ve “ordered” me to do so!

“Who is this [jerk]?” I wondered. Cadet rank meant zero on IACE. Clearly this guy would bear watching.

My irritation faded, though, after I got into my room, then went out for a walk on base. I went over to the American Express office and exchanged some of my money for Swedish currency. It exchanged at about twenty cents for every “Kroner” (crown) and reminded me of Monopoly money. I then went to the BX, and then returned to dress for our welcoming dinner at 1830.

“This dressing-up for dinner business is going to take some getting used to," I thought, but I’d get plenty of practice over the next three weeks.

We were officially welcomed at the Rhein-Main Air Base at the Officer’s Club. Our table had some Cadets from Canada a couple of Luftwaffe Officers.

After this, we returned to our rooms, got departure times for the next day, and tried to sleep. Thoroughly jet-lagged, but filled with so much anticipation, it was hard to do more than toss and turn.