By: Ron Penczak
Full version, a partial version was published in the Newsletter
Being a Field Engineer in the Far East during the ’60s was an exciting time for Raytheon employees, especially me. In the days when we had more than seventy people working on refurbishment contracts in Korea, we had a mixture of young men, like myself, veteran field engineers, recently retired military, others with military experience and factory experience. If one reads James A. Michener’s book, “The Drifters,“ there is a chapter in it entitled, “The Tech Rep.” You would believe he described a Raytheon Technical Representative. We worked hard, played hard, put in long hours and performed as a team. It reminded me of being in the Marines. We were truly an outstanding group and we exemplified “esprit de corps.”
As I neared completion of my obligation to the Marine Corps, they offered me Officer Candidate School (OCS), so I would consider re-enlisting. I refused. Next, they offered HAWK Maintenance School in Huntsville, Alabama. It took a nanosecond to determine it wasn’t for me. If my recollection was correct, I was earning around $110/month and was told by several of the old salts it was tough to make rank in the Marine Corps during peacetime. Something reminded me that Raytheon manufactured HAWK, and they had a plant in Andover, Massachusetts, so I thought to seek employment with Raytheon.
I was hired by Andover’s Missile Systems Division working in missile testing. I found my work in the union too boring. Four co-workers and I discovered that the Field Engineering Department was hiring. We were hired. I was offered Korea but declined the offer. Several older engineers suggested I stay away from Korea since it was in ruins and still recovering from the war. I accepted Okinawa and, ultimately, the five of us deployed to Okinawa. Okinawa was a warm and sunny semi-tropical location. We deployed during January, escaping the cold weather of a New England winter. Oohrah!
In Okinawa, our task was to modify and check out USA HAWK ground equipment. Even though we never received any formal training, we did our job. Management probably determined that if we could read and follow the Modification Work Orders, that was all the training required. Okinawa was a pleasurable assignment.
I do remember our first meal and that the waitresses kept saying, “Hi.” They weren’t saying, “Hi.” Actually they were saying, “Hai” in Japanese, which means, “Yes.” After that dinner, we purchased English to Japanese language dictionaries.
We were in Okinawa for about six weeks when our boss from Andover John “Ski” Grabowski visited us. He held a group meeting with the five of us along with other employees who had been deployed before our arrival. The meeting was short and sweet. Ski simply stated, “I need four volunteers for Korea.” Ski, as a former First Sergeant in the Marine Corps and a Korean veteran, pointed at me and three others. My thoughts, “Hell, I never left the Corps–still receiving orders from a Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO).”
We brought only warm weather clothing to Okinawa and arriving in Korea on a cold February morning was shocking. The weather in Seoul is similar to Boston. Ed Heinike, the Raytheon Team Leader, provided parkas that he requisitioned from the Army.
Our first base was in a village named Anyang, about 12 miles south of Seoul. We lived in a Quonset hut where kerosene-fueled potbelly stoves provided the heat. Showers and toilets were in a different building. No one ever wanted to be the first person out of bed. There was a rule that the first person out of bed was responsible to refill the kerosene containers. The person with the smallest bladder was always first up. Yes, I was the first one up more often than not.
In Anyang, we were moisture and fungus proofing missile guidance packages. This was more our bailiwick since we had experience in Andover working on HAWK guidance assemblies. We had to clean the electronics, test each platter and perform a receiver alignment on the guidance sections. My primary job was doing receiver alignments. The final test was conducting a Go-No-Go test on the assembled missile using the Organizational Maintenance Test Set. We believed the military was sending us their failed missiles to not only fungus proof, but also to repair them. I suspect they believed we were making the big bucks and the company we worked for built the missiles, so let us fix the birds.
While in Okinawa and Korea we received our base pay, plus we received a ten or fifteen percent foreign service premium and ten dollars a day per diem (about $85 inflated to today’s rate.)
Back in those days, and until I married, I lived on the per diem. That covered maid service, which included cleaning your room, doing your laundry and shining your shoes. On Okinawa, the maid also washed your sneakers. The remaining dollars would allow you to eat decent meals and drink at the Officer clubs. Not a bad deal. Life was good.
I don’t recall how it came about, but we heard, probably from the houseboy, that a young Korean toddler burnt himself by accidentally spilling a pot of hot water on himself. We visited him in his hooch. They had built a gauze tent over his body, but not touching him, and his burns were covered with a thick salve. We donated money to pay for his treatment and to help his family.
We also aided a Maryknoll Missionary group that took care of leprosy patients. As a unit, we donated food, clothes, toiletries and kept the good missionaries well-stocked in liquor.
We didn’t stay very long in the Quonset huts before we decided to seek billeting at 8th Army Headquarters in Yongsan, Seoul. All of us relocated to Seoul. We contracted a Korean bus company to transport us to and from work.
Before going overseas I had competed in weightlifting. While living in Yongsan I was able to enjoy the 8th Army gym and meet a former Mr. Korea and champion middleweight Olympic lifter by the name of Kin Un Young. The Eighth Army hired him to coach. He instructed me on the three Olympic lifts. I competed as a lightweight in the “New Face Contest,” meaning novice weightlifters. It was an exciting experience. The Koreans treated me well, and over the years I did get the opportunity to work out with several Korean lifters in a Korean gym. I won a trophy, which was more of a goodwill gesture from the Korean weightlifting association.
Three of us, Fred Shepard, Dick Gagne and I, were temporarily assigned to the 9th Ordnance Company, near Uijeongbu, located approximately thirteen miles north of Seoul. Camp Red Cloud was our new home. I believe we were retrofitting and testing the missile units’-Electrical Power Units. The three of us had had experience testing EPUs in Andover.
As an aside, my buddy Dick and I were bachelors. Without my knowledge, he arranged a double date with two massage therapists who worked on base. When I went for a massage I couldn’t understand why the therapist was angry. She called me “geojismaljaeng-i,” a liar. Her English wasn’t very good, and it took some effort to discover that I supposedly had a date with her. Later Dick admitted that he set up the double date and forgot about it. Any romance with the therapists ended before it began.
By the time we completed our task at 9th Ordnance the contract at Anyang was over.
We were fortunate that our next assignment was in Seoul. We would be based out of the 30th Ordnance Company in Hannumdong, which was a district in Seoul. We worked on a program, if my memory is correct, entitled “Crowbar II,” another modification program to apply Department of Army Modification Work Orders (DMWOs). From this base, we traveled to all the US HAWK missile sites under the command of the US Army’s 38th Brigade.
During the mid-’60s Ski paid us another visit. That’s when we were notified we would no longer be MSD, but would belong to a subsidiary division, Raytheon Service Company. We were told we would not notice any changes.
In October of 1964, Raytheon was awarded a major refurbishment contract to refurbish the US HAWK ground equipment in Korea, which subsequently included additional contracts to refurbish Korean and Taiwanese HAWK ground equipment. My task was to check out Continuous Wave Acquisition Radars (CWARs).
Our work area was renamed the HAWK Maintenance Facility Korea (HMFK). Dick (Mac) McCleskey was the manager, and if memory serves me correctly, this team at its peak numbered between 70-75 Americans, including a varied workforce of mechanics, machinists, painters, assemblers, wiremen, field engineers, supply specialists, and administrators. Additionally, HMFK employed Korean laborers and secretaries.
When you have this many people working long hours and overtime, several picked up nicknames. Here’s a list of some of the names: Tat-Tat, A.J. Animal, Bucky, The Beak, Stormy, Cookie, Turtle, Sgt. Bilko, Buddha, Precious, The Mad Russian, Frenchie, Jocko, Elf, Pinkie, Rudy, Sarge, Old Sarge, Fat Jack, and Big Will, each with a story behind the names.
Mac was able to mold this group into a dedicated workforce that worked hard, played hard and did what had to be done to get the job done on time, and on or under budget. We worked many hours and on occasion worked through the night to check out a radar to make a delivery date. We took pride in our work and what we accomplished.
We were young and full of energy. The retired military who were a key component of this team were used to working long hours under stressful conditions. The long hours didn’t matter; they were an accepted fact of life.
During the mid-’60’s we had our Turkey Day touch football game. The teams were divided between the Electrical and the Mechanical sections. The quarterback for the mechanical team was Jack Lynch, a former football star for Newburyport High School. Rick Barcena was a former college lineman who thought he was playing in the Orange Bowl. He destroyed the electrical group’s offensive and defensive lines. The wives and girlfriends were cheerleaders. Naturally, I played on the Electrical team. I did catch one pass with my arm in a cast, but it didn’t count. I was offside. The games were fun and brought a little bit of home to us on Thanksgiving.
During my time in the Far East, I dated an American Army nurse, and while in Taiwan I dated an American navy nurse, probably because she had a car. I guess the uniforms impressed me! I did mention that we worked hard, and yes, we played hard. Life was good.
In Korea, I romanced a Korean schoolteacher and experienced serious relationships with two waitresses who worked within the 8th Army officer club network. One was the mother of a handsome, intelligent boy whose father was an American. Experiencing how her son was treated within the Korean community inspired me to write a novel that was subsequently published, Of Mixed Blood. And no, I didn’t date them at the same time. The relationships were separated by a year. I did care for both, but something in the back of my mind said, “Self, and what about Rosalie?” I knew I had to return on vacation and propose to my old high school sweetheart, even though she rejected me twice before.
During the refurbishment program, the 38th Brigade solicited Raytheon’s assistance in preparing the missiles to be fired at Sea Range, Korea, during their Annual Service Practice (ASP). I’m guessing this was during 1967. Jim Byrne was the missile Guru. He, Jocko Boyd and I formed a team to refurbish the guidance sections, do a receiver alignment, and do final check out on the OMTS. The refurbished missiles were “choppered” to Sea Range and prepared for firing.
Jim had experience working on the telemetry team and he trained me at Sea Range. I got butterflies during that first count down, 5-4-3-2-1 fire! The butterflies appeared during each missile firing from that date on. The Army fired at targets that were towed by Ryan Firebee drones. I had seen a film of a Firebee being hit by a missile, which was quite an eruptive sight. Missiles detonating near towed targets were impressive enough. Aside from collecting operator and ground equipment data, our task was to compute how close the miss distance was between detonation and target. That was a first look at the data and gave immediate feedback to the firing unit. After the firings, we mailed the data tapes to the states for a detailed analysis.
1968 had an exciting start. On Sunday, January 21st, a group of us were attending a party hosted by Bill Bibo and his wife Sim. Bill was my supervisor at the time. Several of us were looking out towards the lights of Seoul when downtown lit up like the Fourth of July. We tried to determine if it was a Korean holiday. The Korean wives said it wasn’t. Oh well, let’s continue to eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow Sandy (the Mad Russian) Kasenbeg and I had to visit a missile site near the DMZ.
At the crack of dawn Sandy and I headed to the motor pool to check out a jeep. That’s when we found out it wasn’t fireworks, but gunfire and flares. North Korean commandos attempted to assassinate the President of South Korea at the Blue House. The commandos who survived were believed to be heading north attempting to cross the DMZ. That’s the first time in Korea we were provided weapons. We were issued an M-14 rifle and a 45-caliber sidearm.
On the way to the site it seemed like every couple of miles we would have to pass through a roadblock. Previously, whenever we encountered a roadblock, we were recognized as Americans and be waved through, but now they made us exit the jeep and they searched the jeep. I ask you; how many North Koreans could hide in a USA M-151 Jeep? Anyway, once stopped, and when we saw a young Korean soldier pull back the bolt on a 30-caliber machine gun, we hopped right out of that jeep.
Sandy was an experienced engineer on the Pulse Acquisition Radar (PAR), and upon reaching the site he immediately headed towards the radar. While I was retrieving test equipment Sandy was circling the radar. I spent a few moments talking with the radar tech when Sandy came back and said the radar is fixed. The tech and I looked at him and before we could utter a word, he said, “Let’s go to the Battery Control Center (BCC) and check it out. Within seconds, Sandy looked at the radar screen and said to the Officer in Charge, “There’s your first two targets of opportunity.” We could see two blips heading south. Sandy said, “Our job is done, good luck.” He gave a quick salute to the officer and we left.
Two days later the North Koreans captured the US Navy spy ship, the Pueblo. Things were tense on the Korean peninsula.
During March 1968, Don Nagle and I volunteered to provide telemetry support to the USMC in Vietnam. We arrived in Danang and were immediately ferried by small aircraft to Chu Lai, Vietnam. What I remember about this trip was my wearing a flak jacket and getting ready to board the aircraft when one of the crew members told me to take it off. I guess I gave him a “what … for” look. He laughed and said, “Sit on it. The bullets will come up from the ground and through the seat. You don’t want to lose the family jewels, do you?” I heeded his advice.
During this ASP we were supporting the 2nd LAAM Bn and three batteries were going to fire at towed targets pulled by USMC F-8 Corsair aircraft.
I was happy as a bear in a trashcan. Aside from the work, we got to fire the M-16, M-14 rifles, a 45-caliber pistol, and the M-79 grenade launcher. The M-14 was similar to my favorite rifle, the M-1. I felt as though I was back in the Corps. OoRah!
If I was the F-8 pilot I’d be nervous about pulling a towed target, but I wasn’t flying. The Marines fired nine missiles, hitting seven targets for a score of 78 percent. They weren’t happy with the results. Yes, the butterflies still appeared prior to each missile being launched.
In summary, this was a pleasant trip that included swimming in the ocean. Not expecting to swim while on this trip, and not having a bathing suit, I simply wore my BVDs. We also helped the villagers pull in fishing nets. Our local travel entailed going from the site to the main base to mail the data. The food and company were good, and we returned to Korea healthy and satisfied with our performance.
We flew a chartered commercial flight out of Danang to Okinawa. The plane was packed with marines who had spent the better part of a year in the jungles. When the flight attendants opened the doors and stepped out, you would think those marines went to heaven. Lots of yelling and cheering by these battle-hardened troops. Naturally, nearly all the flight attendants were blond. Just observing the way these ladies treated the marines and joking with them during the flight made one feel good.
Upon our return, I declared to Mac, “Anytime you need tele support in Vietnam, I’m ready.”
During the remainder of ’68, I continued to support the refurbishment program, that is, until late summer, when Otis Hopkins and I were tasked to support the 38th Brigade and South Korean ASP at Sea Range.
But before Sea Range, I was scheduled to go home on vacation. In July 1968, while packing, my thoughts were all about Rosalie. This was a woman I had known since she was fourteen, dated her when home on leave, proposed to her just before being discharged from the Corps, proposed to her a second time while vacationing during ’66, and each time she said, “You’re not ready for marriage.” This time, I said, “Self, if she rejects me, I’m gone for good. What’s that old adage, three strikes and you’re out!”
While home, we spent a lot of time together and things were going so well I didn’t want to spoil our relationship with a proposal. Biting the bullet, and while packing to return to Korea, I proposed. She said, “Yes!” A feather could’ve felled me.
“What! You understand you will be traveling 7,000 miles away from home, and living in a foreign country, don’t you?” Whatever possessed me to say that?
Rosalie accepted my proposal; we planned to marry May 1969. I could’ve flown back to Korea without an airplane.
Previously I wrote that we worked and played hard, but it wasn’t all fun. Once engaged, I had to break off a relationship with a Korean woman I cared for. Even though we never discussed marriage, I believe she thought it might happen. The breakup was difficult.
Mid-August Otis and I headed to Sea Range to support the ASP. Sea Range is located on the Yellow Sea (Taechon) and the drive from Seoul in a military M-109 two-ton truck, loaded with the telemetry equipment was slow and nerve-racking. All the roads were two lanes, mostly gravel, and required driving through congested villages. As you might expect, the villagers were never in a hurry to get out of the way. I was thankful Otis volunteered to drive.
Once we set up and checked out the equipment and coordinated our efforts with the military, we were ready. Our typical schedule included a train ride or a jeep drive to Sea Range on Wednesdays, and on Thursdays, we had to check out the equipment and work with the military. On Fridays the missile firings took place. Once the missiles were fired, we calculated the miss distances, gave the information to the unit, and prepared the data for mailing to the states. Friday nights we would return to Seoul. Once we got into a routine, things went smoothly. The ASP began in August and ended in December before Christmas.
After the ASP, it was back to work on the refurbishment program.
Late April I headed home to get married. On May 4, we married and honeymooned in San Francisco for six days, then to Tokyo for six days, and we landed at Seoul Incheon Airport late Friday afternoon. Gene Cunningham, an Army Warrant Officer, had my car and he picked us up. He gave us a fair warning that Raytheon was giving Rosalie a welcome to Korea homecoming. By the time we arrived the party was well underway. This was a shocking way to introduce my bride to this workforce of rowdy men whose spouses were a mix of American, European and Asian women. I guess I can sum up her expression as having the look of a deer in headlights. I can tell you that this was an experience that a naive Massachusetts girl never expected.
Remember me telling Mac that I volunteered for the telemetry assignment in Vietnam? Well, he made me keep my word. I made the commitment and went. Basically I had three weeks to show my wife where the PX, Commissary, bank and post office were before I left for Vietnam. After I returned, she told me that if she knew how to purchase a plane ticket she would’ve headed back home. She said this kiddingly–at least I hope so.
While I was gone Rosalie was well cared for. The spouse mix of European, Asian and American women kept Rosalie occupied and entertained. She became close to a woman from Salem, New Hampshire, Edie Shadlick, and they remained friends after we returned to the states.
I believe living in a small, close community brings out the best in people and generates friendships that continue for years.
Early June, Otis and I flew from Osan Air Base in South Korea to Okinawa on a C-141. We were in Okinawa a few days before boarding a C-130 from Okinawa to Danang. Believe me when I say it wasn’t close to being a commercial flight.
Lee Gibbs, the Raytheon Tech Rep, met us and took us to Supply to be outfitted into Marine Corps utilities, boots, helmets, and flak jackets. I guess they figured that dressed in white shirts we would be too tempting a target.
We met with the battalion commander, a colonel. He was glad to learn that we had military experience. He asked me what branch I was in. I said Marine Corps. He asked, “Do you remember how to use a 45?”
I automatically answered, “Yes, sir!”
Otis answered the question with, “United States Army sir!”
We left his hooch with our weapons. During my first trip to Chu Lai we weren’t issued weapons. Times had changed.
They choppered us to the missile site near Hai Van Pass, just outside of Danang. The 1st LAAM Bn was tasked with providing air defense for Danang Air Base.
I don’t remember if it was during this trip or my previous trip, but when using a canopied deuce and a half truck to house and protect our telemetry equipment, we ended up working late. We were checking out and repairing our equipment prior to the ASP. A jeep pulled up and two young marines brought us dinner. They wanted to ensure that we were fed. The marines do take care of their people.
Later an NCO came by and asked how long we planned to work. My first answer was until we’re operational. That’s when he suggested we stay in the truck until morning, stating that they will be releasing the dogs in one hour. We immediately hopped off the truck and said we’ll return to the base with you.
Once again firing at targets towed by F-8 Corsairs, over a period of several days they shot down 14 of 15 targets. We learned that the Marines were so disappointed at the results of the ASP at Chu Lai in ’68 that they determined that that was not going to happen again. They developed a similar program to what we did in Korea. At their Weapons Control Center, they set up a production line to check out the guidance packages and implemented a tough quality control program. End result: an excellent 93 percent successful ASP.
This assignment was more than interesting. On a day that not much was going on, Otis and I watched a navy destroyer and aircraft over a period of hours dropping ordnance along the seashore several miles away.
That night we went to the club on-site, actually a tent, to relax. We sat with the battery commander, the navy medic, and several other officers and NCOs.
I can remember what happened as though it just happened. The medic and I were discussing sperm count. I have no idea why, but we were. Hey, after several drinks in a faraway place you’re liable to discuss whatever.
Anyway, the phone rang, and the commander said they will be right there and slammed the phone down. He looked at the medic, and said, “O’Brian, can you work.”
He answered with a slurred, “Yes sir! Let me get my stuff.”
I asked, “Captain, what happened?”
Someone on post 12 shot himself in the foot.”
He and the medic took off.
It was only moments later when the siren started wailing. Everyone knew their assignments, except Otis and me. This was unexpected.
You could smell the cordite in the air, see flares going off, and hear shooting. You could tell the difference between the sounds of an AK-47 and an M-16.
We saw a bunker not far away and we headed for it, as fast as we could run. A warrant officer, an American Indian, stopped us and said, “You don’t want to go there. That’s on the firing perimeter.”
“Where do we want to go?”
He pointed us to the secondary command post and said there’s a radio there and you can hear what’s going on.
Once inside the bunker, we found out that this young marine did not shoot himself. He was a seasoned fighter, heard a noise, and in attempting to learn more was hit with a grenade. They brought him into our bunker.
During the night we heard over the radio that Danang was standing by and could reinforce the site. I was thinking, almost out loud, “yes, bring in the reinforcements.” The battery commander said it wasn’t necessary.
What we learned was that O’Brian spent considerable time in the village treating the villagers. Someone mentioned that the site was going to get hit by the VC, no date, but soon. As a result, unknown to Otis and me, they reinforced this site with 120 additional marines, all infantry.
I can remember looking out of the bunker, looking downhill, and I could see figures running at the bottom of the hill. In the dark and smoke, I couldn’t tell if they were marines or VC. I did know, if necessary, I could defend myself.
The firing went on all night. That night convinced me that the training the marines gave me so many years ago was helpful.
The last AK-47 round went off just before dawn. It wasn’t long after that when the captain got on the radio and ordered his troops to check out the equipment.
I immediately got on the radio and said, “Captain, this is Raytheon tele, we’re going to wait a while before we head out.”
“Raayathon, I understand.”
That wasn’t the end of our excitement. After the ASP when we attempted to return to Okinawa, we hit a roadblock. We were told we were civilians and had to fly out commercial. Since we didn’t enter Vietnam with visas, there was no way we could leave on a commercial flight. We headed back to 1st LAAM Headquarters to meet with the Battalion Commander. After a short discussion, he said, “Those SOBs brought you in, those SOBs will take you out.”
He called for his driver and the four of us went to visit the Air Wing commander. Whatever was said behind closed doors worked. The only stipulation was, we had to wear our utilities when boarding the plane. Not a problem, I was happy to do so. I was still on my honeymoon and I couldn’t wait to return to Korea.
Back at Niblo Barracks, I continued to work on the refurbishment contract.
Mid-September I received a distressing phone call from my mother. My father had a heart attack but was expected to recover. Rosalie and I discussed what we should do. I enjoyed my job and I believed I had a career path that eventually would lead to a management position. Yet, I had a family obligation. Rosalie was supportive of whether I chose to stay or leave. My dad was a small business owner of a one-man shop where he sold and repaired television and other electronics. I felt obligated to return home and handle his business until he recovered. Rosalie and I left Korea in early October.
Mac did his best to find me a stateside job. I was offered a position in Dayton, Ohio. I thought I made my position clear; I wasn’t leaving by choice. I was resigning from RSC to cover my father’s business until he returned to work.
In those days, one had to have a TV Repair license. I spent the next few weeks studying for the exam, which I passed. I worked for my father until he could return to work full time. Actually, I worked with him for five months when, out of the blue, RSC called me and asked if I was ready to go back to work for them in Andover. I jumped at that job figuring I was close enough to help my Dad on a part-time basis if needed.