Chapter 9: My Military Years – Entering the Air Force

       I finished my first year of residency on June 30 and I only had two days to prepare myself to report to Sheppard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas. I had no idea where that was, but after looking it up on a map it was located just north of Dallas. I boarded an airline flight  from Newark, New Jersey to Dallas, Texas and then on up to Wichita Falls. As I said goodbye to my family, I could tell how nervous they were for my safety, but I could see they also were very proud of their son who was going off to serve his country. My mother was especially nervous that her only son would be going to Vietnam. The flight from Newark to Dallas was pretty lonely for me as I mulled over what the future would hold. Once again someone else would make a major decision in my life without my input, or so I thought. I transferred in Dallas for the short flight to Wichita Falls and I was accepting the fact that I was about to have a tremendous change in my life. Most of the people on the flight were military personnel and I was pretty convinced in my mind that there was nothing else of note in Wichita Falls, Texas, other than the base. As I walked off the plane, the heat was oppressive. It must have been over 103 degrees and it felt like I had just walked into an oven. There also was a tremendously loud and strange noise going on that I had never heard before. As I neared the terminal, it was evident that the noise was from bugs that looked like giant cockroaches jumping up against the glass windows of the terminal. I would come to find out they were called palmetto bugs and anyone that has ever seen one knows the shock of seeing them for the first time. They are about two or three times bigger than the the cockroaches I was familiar with in New York and    they make a crunching sound if you step on them because of their hard shells. They also give off a sweet pungent smell that is quite characteristic and sickening. It was a sight, smell, sound I will never forget. Unfortunately it was not to be my only encounter with them. There must have been thousands of them. I was convinced they were trying to escape from the hot tarmac, as I was, but who knows. What a great introduction to that place. As I went inside, there were signs that guided me to a bus which would take me to the base. Reluctantly, I boarded the bus and I left my civilian life behind.

       Once we arrived at the base, which by the way was huge, the in-processing of new recruits began. In typical military fashion, everything was thought out to the minutest of details. There was paperwork on top of paperwork, physical exams and measurements taken for uniforms. We were brought into a gigantic room and given a welcome speech by the base commander. As it was an indoctrination class for healthcare professionals, the room was filled with doctors and nurses, many of whom at first resented being there. Most had just completed their training and now, instead of going into private practice, were having to fulfill their military obligation. There were several more speakers who talked about what was to happen over the next two weeks. As that long and stressful day came to a close, we were assigned our housing and could finally begin to relax a little. There were three people assigned to each room. As I met and shook their hands, we  began to get to learn each other's background and exchanged our mutual anxieties.  Besides myself there was a surgeon from California and the other was an anesthesiologist from Florida.

       The next day we were awakened at 6 AM and knew immediately  our military life had just begun. Not a minute would be wasted over the next two weeks. Off to breakfast after a quick shower in a large community bathroom. Privacy is the first thing you give up in the military. After breakfast, we reported to the supply room to get our uniforms and I can still remember putting it on for the first time. It was neatly pressed and the buttons were shiny and new. Somehow the tailor who had measured me got it exactly right. It fit perfectly. My captain’s bars were highly polished and gleamed in the sunlight. The shoes had a high shine which I would have to maintain for the next two years. I was nervous, but I also was very proud to now officially be identified as a member of the United States Air Force. Following that it was meeting after meeting explaining how to properly wear the uniform and general military etiquette. We also had our first lesson in how to march in a parade, which was quite funny. There were sergeants barking out commands and people going in all different directions. But each day that went by we got a little better at it. Why it was important to teach doctors and nurses how to march I’ll never know.  At the end of the day, because of my love of airplanes and flying, I would go down to the flight line and watch the planes take off and land. Because it was a training base, it was also where new pilots began their basic flight school. It didn't take long to find the officers club at night and we had some interesting evenings meeting other people from the base. One group was a bunch of German fighter pilots who were very interesting to talk to. They also showed us a lot of prowess at beer drinking and I still wonder how some of them were able to fly the next day. And it was here that I learned the basic flying policy with regard to alcohol  that mandates eight hours from bottle to throttle. Not eight hours and five minutes but eight hours even. So although the days were long and filled with military history and training, at least a few nights were filled with some fun.

       After a couple of days we were told that our future assignments were to be posted that afternoon. There were a couple of hundred of us who each clambered to see the posting. When I finally got close enough to see my name, my heart sank as I read Captain Pieter Ketelaar, general medical officer, Castle Air Force Base, California, for final assignment to U-Tapao Air Force Base, Thailand. As most of you will surely remember, that was not a very popular war in the United States and I can tell you that assignment was surely not popular with me. I had no idea where Thailand was or why I needed to go there. Someone told me it was a large base with many B-52 bombers but that’s all I knew about it. But there was no turning back now, so I prepared myself for my trip halfway around the world. I was very nervous for my safety, but I talked to several people who had just returned from Southeast Asia and was reassured that the base hospital was about the safest place to be. Lets just say it was not reassuring when I was told that they only bombed hospitals occasionally. I didn't tell my family, however, because I didn't want to upset them until the last minute. I attentively listened to several of the lectures about being in a war zone and the code of military conduct for prisoners of war. What? This is really getting scary!  I was really impressed at how thorough the process was, but I must say I was a little distressed about some of the information we were being told. We were given dog tags like all military personnel with the explanation as to why. The speaker matter-of-factly informed us that was one of the ways we would be identified if we happened to be killed. You better believe that comment turned a few heads in the audience. Here we were doctors and nurses trained to save people's lives and this guy was talking about us dying, a rather sobering thought to say the least. What was I thinking when I volunteered for this? Not only was I not allowed to finish my four years of trainingy before being called up now I was being told that I could die. As you can imagine I didn’t sleep very well that night.

       With about a week to go in the training process, we prepared for the notorious overnight camp out in the nearby woods. Doctors and nurses on a camp out in the woods!  Are you kidding me, that should be interesting or so we thought. I am sure you can imagine that while doctors and nurses do not exactly have warrior personalities it turned out to be a pretty funny experience that no one took seriously. It was terribly hot and a very unpleasant affair. The tents were smelly and the canned rations, some of which bore  World War II markings on them, were awful. But there must've been some purpose to it so it was grin and bare it as best we could. Oh by the way the tents did not have air conditioners to cool down the 103 degree temperature. The training officers, I am sure, got a good laugh out of it also. One nurse from the tent next door to ours came over with a bottle of champagne to share. Where she got that from  I’ll  never know, but we had fun exchanging stories and wondering what our military experience would be like. It brought to mind all those episodes of M*A*S*H I had watched on TV. Interestingly enough the nurse happened to resemble Hot Lips Hoolihan very much. When we reported back the next day for more lectures, over the PA system came an announcement that Captain Ketelaar needed to report to the administration office as soon as possible. Did I really hear what I think I had just heard? That couldn't be a good thing, I mused to myself, as I made my way to the office. I wondered what I had done wrong and why I was being singled out for possible punishment. Did they hear about the champagne party and think I was the culprit? When I got to the office, the sergeant asked me to be seated while he told the colonel I was there. As I was escorted in, my hands, knees, and mostly every part of my body that could possibly move was shaking. The colonel said "sit down, son, and relax; you are one of the luckiest guys I know." "You're from New Jersey correct," he asked?  I said "yes sir." Well, we received a request for an Obstetrician at a base in upstate New York near Utica.Your name  just so happened to  come out of the computer! It was tremendous news in more ways than one. The redhead nurse from St. Vincent's Hospital that I had met was now living in Rochester, New York, at the time caring for her terminally-ill mother. So my first choice request for assignment at the Pentagon had really paid off. I also did not volunteer to him that I had not completed my training as an Obstetrician because I didn't want the deal to fall through. If they had made a mistake, I was going to go along with it as long as possible. So not only would I be spared the trip to Southeast Asia, I was going to be based less than an hour away from my future wife. Now if that's not fate, I don't know what is. I guess the Good Lord must have had other plans for me. I was so thankful I immediately called my folks with the good news. Although that was one of the best things that would happen to me in my life, I still feel somewhat guilty at times about not having gone to Southeast Asia. Several of my friends from high school and college sacrificed their lives there and here I was getting out of that assignment. I wonder, to this day, why I was spared that duty but I am most grateful that I was.

       The last day of training was to consist of a big parade in front of the base commander and we practiced marching for days before to look good. However we were not professional soldiers and the odds were certainly against us for getting it right. But it was an inspiring event with bands, more speeches wishing us well, and the reminder that we were now a part of a proud military tradition. Even though the parade managed to go well, a few of us still managed to turn the wrong way. So now that our initial training was complete, we all began to depart on our different ways to various parts of the world. We said goodbye to our new friends and wished them all well. I hope that none of them paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country, but I'm sure there might have been one or two just based on sheer percentages. But for me, I looked forward to reporting for duty at United States Air Force Hospital Griffiss, Griffiss Air Force Base, Rome, New York. Again, I had but two days to get there so no time off for anything but to get there as soon as possible. I flew back to New Jersey, picked up my car at my parents’ house and headed north to the base. My parents were thrilled that I was going to be stationed so close by. Little did they know how close their son had come to an all-expenses-paid trip to Southeast Asia. I was so glad to have spared them that worry. The next two  years were to be unquestionably the best of my life, both professionally and personally. I was about to meet people that I still know and I have so much respect for those who are willing to sacrifice their lives to defend our country. They were some of the bravest and most dedicated men and women I have ever met. I was proud to be an officer in the U.S. Air Force and looked forward to my service to it and to my country. It was a privilege caring for and knowing them. They are tremendous people and our country is indeed blessed to have so many of them willing to sacrifice and  defend our freedom.

                     THE STRATEGIC AIR COMMAND (SAC)

       As I arrived at the entrance to the base, I was surprised and impressed with the amount of security. I literally knew nothing about the base or its mission. Approaching the base entrance, I was stopped at a guard house by a soldier with a rifle in his arms. He asked for my identification and a copy of my orders, which was then checked against a list inside the guard house. Griffiss, I was to find out shortly,  was a SAC base, which stood for Strategic Air Command. It was an elite group of men and women whose job was to provide security to our country through the maintenance of our airborne nuclear threat capability. That meant that on that base were the bombers and tankers which were constantly both on alert and in the air armed with nuclear weapons to respond in the event of an all-out war launched against our nation by an enemy. It was one part of our nation’s nuclear triad which consisted of bombers, missiles and submarines all capable of delivering nuclear weapons. No wonder all the security to just get on base. That time would become known as the Cold War and I was going to be involved in supporting that effort. How lucky was I to first be assigned in the United States and second to become part of this elite group. The soldier then saluted me and gave me directions to the base hospital where I was to report. Upon arriving at the hospital, I reported to the commander's office and was brought in to meet him. With my fresh knowledge of how to report I snapped to attention, saluted him and said "Captain Ketelaar reporting for duty, sir." He was a prototypical military looking gentleman whom you would not immediately have identified as a doctor. He was middle-aged, quite handsome with a crew cut and trim muscular figure. He motioned for me to sit down and took out a background folder on me and began to explain what my duties would be. Right away he noticed that I had not completed my training in Obstetrics and Gynecology. At first I thought that they had realized they had made a mistake. He wanted to know if I was willing to serve along with a fully-trained doctor in the specialty who would be my supervisor. I said I was quite willing to do that because I thought that would really help me when I returned to St. Vincent's Hospital. Colonel William Redmond, proceeded to take me around the hospital which was a remnant from World War II. The building was quite small but well kept. He explained that although it was small physically that we had two doctors in all the basic specialties capable of taking care of just about any medical problem. He then asked me if my wife would be joining me soon. I said no, that I was in the process of getting a divorce, and he said that I was technically still married and therefore qualified for on-base housing. The alternative was to live in the bachelors officer quarters (BOQ) or off-base housing. Colonel Redmond was adamant that I get on base housing and that was just one of many kind things he would do for me. After our tour of the hospital, he sent me to the supply office to check in. The sergeant issued me a parka and a snow blower. Mind you this was in August. When I asked why I was told that because of nearby Lake Oneida in the winter it was common to get quite a bit of snow because of something called the lake effect. "Doc, you will need this because when it snows around here we measure it in feet, not inches." And he would prove to be quite right over the next year.

       I then decided to take a ride around the base to try and get myself acclimated. I started out by driving around Perimeter Road, which completely encircled the base and I thought that would give me a good idea of the layout. After traveling to the east end of the base, I followed the road around a tall, chain-linked fence topped with barbed wire. I suddenly saw what the base was all about. Parked about 100 yards away was the largest airplane I had ever seen. It was the pride of the SAC fleet, the powerful Boeing B-52 bomber. It was massive, with a tail that looked like it stood about 3 stories high. It was painted in camouflage colors of black and green and it had the SAC emblem on the nose of an armored hand holding a lightning bolt and an olive branch. Two sets of double engines are mounted on each massive wing and it was an impressive sight, to say the least. I would later find out that one happened to be one of the two alert bombers on base which meant it was fully armed with nuclear weapons and could be launched within minutes. In my mind I conjured up the destruction that the plane was capable of doing. I had read quite a bit about that plane and it was awesome to see it in real life. Being a pilot myself, I had a unique perspective about airplanes but that one was unlike any other airplane. Not many people have ever been so close to one of those bombers and my dream of being in one was to come true in the near future. A few months later from the same spot I was to see an absolutely amazing site. After a snow storm that left the base with massive snow drifts, both of the alert bombers would be buried so deeply in snow that only their tails would be visible. It took days to dig them out by airmen who were flown in from Texas to uncover these giants, most of which was done by hand so as not to damage them or their precious cargo. I also noticed a sign on the fence which said DO NOT STOP, ARMED GUARD AREA. I kept moving but slowly as I viewed the reason why the base existed. It was to provide a home and support for that bomber and everything on base was geared to that mission. As I continued along the north side of the road, I could look down on the gigantic runway the bomber needed to take off and land. It was almost 12,000 feet long and much larger than the runways at any commercial airport I had seen. Several months later at an observation area nearby I would ask Kathy to marry me. So this base and this spot has extra special meaning for me. When the B-52 was fully loaded with bombs and fuel, it needed just about all of it to take off. Near the runway was an underground bunker with a sign that said DANGER, RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL STORED HERE. It was there that the nuclear bombs were stored. So my brief trip around Perimeter Road showed me the whole picture of why the base existed in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York. Later I would find out that because it was a SAC base it was also a prime target for the Russian military. That was quite a sobering thought when I went to bed at night. It also was apparent that there was not much else to do on the base and, consequently, many babies were born there over the next year. And that also explained the reason why I was needed there.

       The next person I was scheduled to meet was to be my supervisor for the next year and, quite surprisingly, he turned out to be one of my closest friends for the rest of my life. Dr. Adelsohn was a major in the Air Force and, like me, had just begun his active duty tour. They needed him so badly he had been spared the two week course at Sheppard AFB. As I drove up to his home on base, I wondered what my new boss was going to be like. All I knew was that he was a fully-trained Ob/Gyn from Brooklyn, New York. So right from the start we had something in common in that we did our training in the same city. Larry was very kind to me from day one. He knew I was not fully trained and that he would have to provide me with a lot of supervision. He took me under his wing right away and made me feel so comfortable with the position I was being asked to fill. I'm sure he was a little disappointed when he found out his partner was not fully trained, but he never showed it and always treated me with the utmost of kindness and respect. He looked at it as a teaching opportunity and he was excellent at it. I learned so much over the next year from him and, as fate would have it, we have remained good friends to this day. We would eventually practice in New Jersey about an hour apart. Even more of a coincidence, his home is just two blocks from where I grew up in Paramus, New Jersey. Larry was married with two children and they all made me feel like I was a member of their family. Boy, had I really lucked out again. My next stop was to base housing and I was given the key to my first home. It was small but cozy and it was all mine. I was within walking distance of the hospital and, over the next year, I  made many trips there, some even behind my brand new snow blower. So by the end of my first day on base, the stage was set for the remarkable experience that the next year was to bring me.

       Life on a military base is quite different then civilian life and Griffiss was even more so because of its mission. On most Air Force bases, the base commander is the top dog but not on a SAC base. There the ultimate person in control was the wing commander, who is in charge of the entire fleet of bombers, tankers and support personnel. We were constantly reminded that our sole purpose was to support the nuclear mission of the base. Everyone was geared to that mission and it functioned like a well-oiled machine. It was an awesome responsibility that the base had and no one took it lightly. If you have ever seen the movie "Strategic Air Command" starring Jimmy Stewart or a “A gathering of Eagles” starring Rock Hudson, you'll have an idea of what I am talking about. Those movies explain quite well how a SAC base functions. It also shows what a base goes through when it has a dreaded Operational Readiness Inspection or ORI. It is an unannounced event where an inspection team flies into the base from SAC Headquarters in Omaha, Nebraska, and orders a full-scale mock nuclear attack of a potential enemy, in most cases at the time it was the Soviet Union. All of the bombers must be launched within short notice and the base, and  more so the wing commander, is graded upon its performance. The commander's job rests on the results of an ORI and it is quite an event to see take place. There were to be two such events that I would observe over the next year and I would get to participate in them as mock medical disasters are also part of the exercise. So from day one, we all knew why we were there and it was truly an awesome responsibility.

       After  meeting  all of the doctors at the hospital, I realized very quickly what a unique experience I was involved in. As I said earlier there were two physicians in each of the major specialties at the hospital. Most of them had recently completed their residencies and their knowledge and skills were at their peak. It was a tremendous experience to work with all those people. From the hot shot surgeons to the radiologists, they were all well trained and eager to practice medicine for the first time on their own. So we were all kind of in the same,  excuse the naval expression,  boat together. We were not quite military people, but we were professionals who had to learn to work under the military umbrella. Some of us would do that better than others and some, unfortunately, just didn't get it at all. Consequently they had rather unpleasant military experiences but, for the most part, we functioned well under the rigid system and we learned much about the people who serve the country in all branches of the armed forces.

       There were several special experiences that I had over the year at Griffiss and I would like to relate one of the most memorable ones. One day as Larry and I were both doing a delivery at the same time, which happened quite frequently, one of the nurses came running into my delivery room quite upset and screaming " doctor hurry, we need you now." I was just about done so I hurriedly finished and started to run down the hall. As I neared the room where the nurse was standing, I could hear the sound of fluid dripping down onto the floor. I entered the room to find a  patient who had  just delivered a baby but, unfortunately, her uterus had completely turned itself inside-out and she was hemorrhaging. That is known as a uterine inversion and, although I had heard of it, I had never seen it before. She was bleeding heavily and I clamped the umbilical cord of the baby and placed it in the bassinet. I told the nurse to quickly get Dr. Adelsohn and an Anesthesiologist. The patient was semi-conscious from the tremendous blood loss and I knew we didn't have much time to save her. When Larry arrived I'm sure he was as shocked as I was. He quickly ordered the patient to be rushed to the operating room where an Anesthesiologist and OR  team luckily were present. As we scrubbed for the surgery, Larry told me he had never seen one of those cases before either, but he was pretty sure he knew how to fix it. The problem was like an umbrella turning itself inside out but the amount of bleeding was something I had never seen before. The key to fixing it was to get the uterus to relax and push it back up inside, a lot easier said than done. As Larry was doing his best to do just that, the Anesthesiologist said to hurry because the patient was in shock and not doing well. Great, just what we needed to hear.  I can still hear him say, “I think we are going to lose her." As hard as Larry tried to replace the uterus, it just wouldn't go. Frustrated, he turned to me and said "Pieter you try it." I could see that pushing in the center was not working, so I tried pushing on one corner of the uterus to get it going and, thankfully, it did. I think it was more related to the fact that the patient was now fully relaxed from the anesthesia rather than my efforts. Larry took over and finished replacing the uterus to its normal position and it was then up to the Anesthesiologist to resuscitate the patient. Fortunately, the patient began to come around, her blood pressure stabilized with God knows how many pints of fresh blood, and Larry and I knew how close this woman had come to dying on us. This was one of those few events that occur in a doctors’ career that you remember the rest of your life. The patient continued over the next few days to improve and was finally discharged with her beautiful new baby. That is always a wonderful sight to see but especially in that woman's case. Griffiss, although not small geographically, was the kind of base where most people either knew or had seen each other on a regular basis. I can tell you that every time I saw that woman subsequently, and it was several times, the hair on the back of my neck would stand up and I would break out in a cold sweat. Larry and I still talk about that lady even to this day when we get together and relive our Air Force days. The hospital commander went out of his way to thank both of us for the job we had done. That is the kind of experience that pays a physician back for all the hard work and sacrifices that we go through in our training. Nothing is more rewarding than to save another person's life. Nothing! There was no doubt in our minds that we had saved this ladies’ life.  

       The OR at Griffiss was run by a typical career military nurse. She was probably in her early 50s, single, and tough as nails. Besides her tremendous air of confidence, the silver maple leafs that she wore on her uniform added to her overall demeanor of power. She was a lieutenant colonel and her rank gave her command over most of the doctors, who were majors and captains. When she stepped into an operating room however, she became a nurse again and she was a very talented assistant. Many of the surgeons I wouldn't say feared her but treated her quite differently than the other nurses. She had many nicknames among the doctors one of which was “TB” which in her case stood for “tough bitch”. Everyone agreed that she ran a tight ship and, believe me, there was little doubt that it was “her” OR. She was very protective of her nurses and the last thing you would want to be accused of was mistreating one of them. Besides demanding respect for her rank, her skill as an organizer was apparent immediately and could never be questioned. Over the two years I served in the military, I was to meet other head nurses and they all looked and acted like they came out of the same mold. Again, I was reminded of the movie M*A*S*H but without the sexual exploitation. As a matter of fact, I did not observe any incidents between the doctors and nurses at all. Unfortunately I could not say the same outside of the military. I imagine that it  had a lot to do with the strong discipline that pervaded the military. Because women were exempt from the draft, nurses in the military were there by choice and most were making a career out of it. But despite their stereotypes, they all had one very enduring quality. They loved and served their country  in a most dedicated fashion. The military was their life and thank God we have people like them who are willing to make such tremendous  sacrifices.

       As I mentioned earlier, I was very fortunate to be stationed at a base that was about an hour away from the woman who would soon become my wife. Kathy had left New York and St. Vincent's Hospital shortly after I did to care for her sick mother. Her mom suffered from bone cancer and she cared for her during her last year of life. Besides being attracted to her stunning looks, it was her care for her mother that displayed to me what a kind and caring person she was. I knew if we married and had children she would provide excellent care for us as well. Pretty, intelligent and loving, what more could I ask for in a partner? I spent many weekends traveling back and forth to Rochester to see her and, in the end I think I could make that drive with my eyes closed. Well, there was one time when I was actually glad that I hadn’t. One Friday night Kathy happened to be working late at the hospital so there was no reason for me to leave the base early. Well, bachelor officers on a base in the middle of nowhere had little to do in their off time but to gather at the officers’ club to while away the hours. Besides the doctors and nurses on base, the next biggest group of people I spent time with were pilots. I have always loved airplanes since I was a little boy and had taken flying lessons during my internship as a means of escape from the tensions of work. The small single-engine airplanes that I flew were nothing like the sophisticated flying machines that we had on the base. So besides being fascinated with the mission of the base, I had quite a bit in common with the pilots. Through their wives I met several of them and our get-togethers at the O Club were always interesting and usually involved relating flying stories. Well, this evening I met up with several of them and they decided to introduce me to some of the more popular drinks on base. One, in particular, was named the “Afterburner”  and it was a concoction of several types of  liquors which had to be consumed after it was lit on fire to resemble the afterburners on the jet engines that they flew. Well, the drink was notorious for causing facial burns if not consumed correctly. Many visits to the ER by pilots were because of burns from that drink. After several hours of war stories and introduction to some other unique drinks, fortunately, I knew I was not capable of driving to Rochester that night to see Kathy. I was not even sure if I could walk the two blocks to my home but I somehow made it. I wouldn’t say that was the only way that pilots released the tension involved with their high risk jobs but it was one of them. As best I can recall, and to their credit, I never met an Air Force pilot whom I would call an alcoholic. That is not to say they didn’t enjoy having a good time but except for rare occasions it was done very responsibly. For me, however, I very quickly learned, as in college, that alcohol and I were not the best of friends.

       Speaking of flying, I had several good trips in the different types of airplanes on the base with many of the pilots who were kind enough to take me along. I got to know many of the pilots on base by either delivering or taking care of their wives. But before I could do that, I had to get my check-out in the altitude chamber at Pease Air Force Base in New Hampshire. So off I went one weekend on my off time to find out what it would feel like at 40,000 feet to be deprived of oxygen. Everyone’s symptoms of hypoxia are different and it was important to find out what mine would be. For me I became quite giddy at first and rapidly became unable to perform simple tasks like writing my name. It was an interesting experience and now that I had my high-altitude chamber card, I would be able to fly in most Air Force planes. I still have that card to this day. Back at the base a Red Cross volunteer introduced me to her husband who was a B-52 pilot. His name was J. C. Wilson and he was just what you would expect a pilot to look like. J.C. was tall and trim with an air of confidence about him but not arrogant. He happened to be an aircraft commander and besides that an instructor pilot on the B-52. One day off we went to the flight line for my first up-close encounter with the B-52. Well, from a distance, it was a massive machine but, up close, it was simply awesome. Its gigantic fuselage sat on four double sets of wheels which were about as tall as I was. The wings stretched out longer than the length of the airplane and the huge tail rose three stories into the air. After a brief walk around, we climbed up into the cockpit which contained what appeared to be hundreds of dials, instruments and controls. There were throttle controls for the engines centered in the middle between the pilot and copilot each numbered from one to eight. Behind each pilot were the blast curtains. They would fold out and blacken out the entire cockpit from the intense flash of a nuclear explosion. Just another small reminder of the mission of this machine. Behind the cockpit was the station for the navigator and, one deck below, was where the bombardier and electronic warfare officers sat. Behind them were 2 huge bomb bay areas that housed regular bombs or nuclear weapons, another reminder of what its mission was designed for. The pilots had a nickname for the plane, which they affectionately called the “BUFF”. This stood for “Big Ugly Fat F-----“ or, in polite nuance “Fellow”. After the tour, I boldly asked J. C. “ well, when do I get to fly in it.”? To my surprise he said “how about tomorrow at 0800?” Well, that was a Wednesday and I said that would be great, but I would have to get permission from Larry and Colonel Redmond. He said “fine; let me know later if you can get off.” Both of them were kind enough to let me off from my regular duties, so I called J. C. back and we made plans to meet at 0700 in the flight ops building. But before that I had one more task to accomplish and that was to get fitted for a helmet and flight suit. One of the sergeants in the supply room helped me do that and then I was off to the survival room to find out how to escape from the airplane in an emergency. This included lessons on how to use a parachute which almost made me reconsider what I was about to do. So I was finding out just to take what I thought would be a simple ride in the “BUFF” would prove to be quite a production. I was so excited that evening I could not sleep a wink in anticipation of my ride in the infamous B-52.

       The next morning I arrived early dressed in my flight suit and carrying a bag which contained my helmet and oxygen mask. In my mind, I dreamt I was just another pilot getting ready to take the “BUFF” out for a ride. J. C. was already there mulling over the flight plan and weather charts. He introduced me to the other five members of the crew and, after a short briefing in which he explained that today’s flight would be a simulated low level bombing mission. We then headed outside to a truck which would take us to the airplane. As we approached the airplane, I remember how it shined in the early morning sun. The famous SAC emblem on the nose glowed brightly and below it was her name, “The Mohawk Valley”. 25 years later I was to see “the Mohawk Valley” again on a visit to Griffiss that my wife and I made to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. It is permanently on display signifying the mission of the base which is no longer an active military installation but now a private commercial airport. There were several enlisted men scurrying around getting her ready to fly. As we entered the plane through a hatch in the bottom of the nose, we then climbed up the two decks to the cockpit. I was so excited I could barely speak as J. C. settled me into the jump seat which was between and behind both pilots. Over the next 30 minutes or so, he and his copilot read off check lists to make sure  the multiple dials and instruments were ready for takeoff. Then it was time to go as the eight engines one by one came to life with a roar. J. C. then picked up the microphone and in a confident tone announced to the control tower “Ram-Rod 84 ready to taxi.” A voice came back clearing us to the active runway. J. C. slowly advanced the throttles and we began to move forward. He gracefully guided the plane from between two other bombers and taxied out to Runway 33. Arriving at the end of the runway we taxied into position for takeoff. Each crew member then checked in with J. C. that they were prepared for takeoff. He then turned to me and asked if I was ready to which I replied “yes sir”. The next thing we heard from the tower was Ram-Rod 84 cleared for takeoff Runway 33, wind 300 at 8 knots. The copilot acknowledged the takeoff clearance and J. C. slowly advanced the throttles to full power.  The giant monster began to accelerate down the runway with a tremendous roar from her engines. It seemed like forever as we rolled down the runway and, with the end in sight, he gently pulled back on the control yoke and the nose slowly lifted off the runway. I was flying in a B-52. Wow, what a thrill.

       We then headed off to a target area in the Carolinas to begin several low-level bombing runs. J. C. smoothly maneuvered the plane through the runs with the precision of an expert, which he was. After several hours, which passed by all too quickly for me, we headed back to Griffiss. As he lined up the “BUFF” with the runway to land, I was quite sad my little adventure was over, but what a great experience it was! It was a privilege to see those men do their job with such finesse. After a very smooth landing, he guided “Ram-Rod 84” to her parking space. I thought to myself how few people have been able to do what I had just done. I was thrilled and very proud of those men and women who risk their lives doing that on a daily basis. They know that each time they take off they could be headed towards a nuclear halocaust, and yet they accept their job with great humility and determination. They stay prepared and ready to do the unthinkable so that, hopefully, it will never be necessary to carry out their ultimate mission of delivering a nuclear weapon on an enemy. The power of the B-52 is awesome. Each one is capable of carrying 4 nuclear weapons, each bomb 700 times more powerful than the ones that were dropped on Japan to end World War II. I thanked J. C. and each of his crew for the wonderful experience I had just had. I also thanked them for what they do to keep our nation safe. The job they did  was the main reason that the Cold War ended peacefully without us ever having to use those terrible weapons of mass destruction.

       I had many other rides in the “BUFF” over the next year but none quite as exciting as the first. Overnight rides were the easiest to fit into my schedule so, many times, after my daytime duties were over, I would head down to the flight line to hitch another ride. I was fortunate to have flown in several types of airplanes on base including the KC-135 tanker, T-33 trainer, F-106 interceptor as well as the queen of the base, the mighty B-52. Tanker rides at night were especially one of my favorites. I would climb in the aft end with the boom operator and lie on my stomach and watch as he made the fuel connection with the trailing airplane. A rendezvous with a B-52 at night was to say the least extremely exciting and challenging for the pilots. To maneuver those two airplanes so close together was no small feat at 300 miles per hour. I was lucky enough to see this maneuver from both ends of the refueling probe. It also was the ultimate test for a B-52 pilot  because if he was unable to successfully accomplish this maneuver he would not be able to advance to a position of aircraft commander. But again I must thank them all for letting me experience something that so few people have been privileged to observe.

       But the primary mission of the B-52 was to be able to respond to a nuclear attack on the United States by having those planes at the ready to attack any enemy in the world. It was called “MAD,” which stands for “mutually assured destruction,” and for many years The Russians and the Americans engaged in those tactics.  If you have ever seen the movie “Dr. Strangelove,” it is remarkably similar to the real thing. I cannot go into any details of some of the flights I was on for obvious security reasons but, suffice it to say, some of them were quite scary if you gave any thought to what was actually happening. But that was what SAC was all about and, for many years this was carried out in the Cold War. Fortunately none of these planned and practiced exercises ever had to be completely played out, for it would literally be the end of life on Earth as we know it. I distinctly remember one flight in the B-52 where the aircraft commander actually let me carry the briefcase containing the codes that would be needed to confirm an order from the president of a nuclear attack. He smiled as he told me it was one suitcase that none of us wished to open. I pondered that thought the rest of the flight as I clutched it on my lap. I am still amazed at the professionalism of those men and women.

       Well, enough of the flying; let’s get back to medicine. As I’ve said before, Larry was my mentor for that year and he proved to be an excellent teacher for me. Some surgical procedures, like tubal ligations, were quite popular but I was never exposed to them because my primary training was at a Catholic hospital. He was kind enough to guide me through several types of operations, from minor to major, that I had never performed as a first-year resident. That proved to be so valuable to me that when I returned to St. Vincent’s, because of the volume of work I had performed in the military, I was actually able to skip one full year of my residency training. So besides being some of the most interesting and rewarding years of my life, it was quite valuable to my training. Larry was an excellent surgeon and I cannot thank him enough for the extra time and effort he put into training me. Besides being a good teacher, he would actually become one of my best friends to the point where he and his wife Lynn would be the best man and bridesmaid at our wedding at the conclusion of our year at Griffiss.

       I would like to relate to you now what I call the Friendly’s Ice Cream story. Griffiss was located in Rome, New York, which was a small, quiet rural town near Utica, New York. It was the kind of place that watching the grass grow was a big event. Well, one day after I had been seeing a lot of Obstetrical patients, I decided I would treat myself to lunch at the local Friendly’s Ice Cream store. Obstetrical visits consist mostly of checking blood pressures, measuring the growth of the uterus and listening to the fetal heartbeat. Besides also answering questions, one of the most important parts of those visits involved monitoring weight gain in pregnancy. Well, after a full morning of listening to nine million excuses for gaining too much weight and how they had been starving themselves and would still gain weight, I decided I was going to Friendly’s to reward myself for a long, hard morning of work. It was a relatively small store and, when  I walked in the door, I recognized a number of my patients sitting there with giant bowls of ice cream in front of them. And this was after listening to them just hours before telling me how well they had been watching their diets and that they could not understand why they had still gained so much. They all would swear to me that they barely ate anything at all since their last visit. Some even brought lists of what they had eaten and ice cream was definitely not on their lists. So where could the 20 pound plus weight gain over the last month be coming from? As I walked in the door, suddenly the place got very quiet and several of them, after seeing me, started to head for the back door and others I’m sure wanted to crawl under the tables and some actually did. As I went over to several of them sitting together, I said I think I discovered why they were all gaining so much weight. We all had a good laugh together. Many times I would ask them during their subsequent visits if they had been to Friendly’s lately. Only an Obstetrician and a pregnant woman can fully appreciate the humor in that story. I managed to occasionally visit the store over the rest of the year but I would rarely see any of my patients there. I would not be surprised that if the owner knew who I was and what was going on he probably would have banned me from the store. I imagine I cost him a lot of money.

       Another funny story I call the Hot Water Heater episode. One day as I arrived at the clinic for work, there were some repair men working on the hot water heater located just outside one of my exam rooms. As I mentioned, the buildings dated back to WW II and were quite flimsy. As a result, for our patients’ privacy, we would always talk softly so we couldn’t be heard in the next room. The men were making quite a bit of noise both talking and hammering on the pipes, but I didn’t think much about it as I started to see my patients. Well, my first patient was a young woman having her first gynecological exam and, naturally, she was very nervous. The Red Cross volunteer and I tried very hard to make her relax, but she was just a bundle of nerves. As I tried to insert the metal speculum into her vagina to do a pap smear, I realized it was too large and turned to the volunteer and told her I needed a smaller instrument. One of the workers outside who was working on the pipes with his assistant  said at the exact same time “that’s okay, if it won’t fit, we’ll just screw it in!” Well, the patient hearing this jumped up off the table and said “oh no you’re not” and started to walk away and gather her clothes. It took us quite a while to calm her down and explain to her that it was not me who said that and finally after she was convinced, we all had a good laugh over a somewhat embarrassing situation. I thought of that poor young lady many times as I’ve seen different patients over the years who were also nervous about their first exam. I sincerely hope she overcame the trauma of her first checkup.

       The next incident involved the wing  commander. About half way through the year, in the middle of winter, we had a change in  commanders at the base.  The former wing commander was not very well liked but his successor turned out to be an excellent commander and a terrific person. One evening I was on call and received a phone call from the ER. I was told by the ER doc that the wing commanders’ wife was in the ER with severe abdominal pain. He was pretty sure it wasn’t appendicitis so he called me to see her right away.  Great, it wasn’t bad enough I had to get up in the middle of the night but, in addition, it was for a VIP. After a careful examination and a few tests, I determined that she probably had an ovarian cyst that had ruptured and it would be necessary to take her to the OR immediately because of her extreme pain and my findings of an acute abdomen. I called Larry and he immediately came over to the hospital. As we began the surgery, he reminded me that we better not screw this one up. “Thanks Larry, I really needed that” I muttered. Once we had opened the abdomen and explored the pelvis, we found what she actually had was a twisted dermoid cyst of the left ovary. Those are not uncommon tumors of the ovary and are mostly benign. But in her case, it had twisted on  itself which cut off the blood supply to the ovary and consequently explained why she suddenly had developed such severe pain. We proceeded to remove her left ovary and fallopian tube. Her surgery went uneventfully and, at the completion of the operation, I was told that the wing commander was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. I also was informed he was calling long distance from Vietnam. I asked Larry if he wanted to talk to him instead and he said “ no, she’s your patient”. I nervously picked up the phone and explained what had happened and that his wife was awake and doing well in the recovery room. He thanked me and said he would be returning to our base in a few days. After I hung up, I must say my heart rate was close to 150 and my hands were visibly shaking. Larry told me I had done a good job and that I needed to go home and relax and he would take call the rest of the night. The commanders’ wife, I would find out over the next few days, was a lovely woman who did her best to put me at ease. How about that for a reversal of roles? The patient was actually trying to alleviate my anxiety. She did not ask for or expect any special treatment even though she was the wife of the most important person on the base. It was my pleasure and privilege to have cared for that woman. Her post-op course was, thankfully, uncomplicated and the pathology report confirmed a benign dermoid cyst. The next day I was called to the hospital commanders’ office to explain what had happened. He thanked me and was pleased everything went well. Several days later, I went to my office as usual around 7 a.m. and I was told by one of our corpsmen that the wing commander was there. Everyone in the office was watching me as I nervously walked into my office. Colonel Maxson stood up and shook my hand and proceeded to thank me for caring for his wife while he was away. I would later find out that he arrived back on the base only a few hours before and apparently stayed up to come and thank me personally. He was extremely kind to me and went out of his way to help me over the next few months. After he left, Larry came into my office as well as several other people, all wanting to know how it went. I said “fine”, he treated me kindly and couldn’t thank me enough for caring for his wife.  All I can say is thank God his wife’s surgery went well. I would not have wanted  to explain a bad outcome to that fine gentleman.

       As I have said before since I did most of my training in Catholic hospitals, therefore, I did not have a chance to become familiar with sterilization procedures or contraceptive measures. Also due to the fact that junior military officers were not paid a lot of money, I decided to work in the Planned Parenthood Clinic in town. Although my salary in the military was better than as a resident, I still was not making much of an income. Working for them offered me a few extra dollars and a great opportunity to broaden my  knowledge of contraception.  Although I chose not to perform any abortions it was an invaluable experience that I needed to round out my knowledge and ability to practice Gynecology to its utmost. I do, however,  believe it is a woman’s right to have control over her body.

       Winter time at Griffiss was cold with frequent snow storms. I think I saw enough snow that winter for a lifetime. The area was pretty used to it, so most upstate New Yorkers knew full well how to deal with it. Unlike in New Jersey where people think just because you have an SUV or truck with four wheel drive means they don’t have to slow down. I still laugh at the fact that a few inches of snow in New Jersey can paralyze the state more than a few feet in Upstate New York. My snow-blower came in handy many times to get me to the hospital in the middle of a storm. Babies don’t care what the weather is like out and they can come at the most inopportune times. One particular storm almost got me into trouble with the base commander. He was not well liked and was a stickler when it came to military protocol. The hospital commander spoke to all the doctors one day that if the base commanders’ car went by we were required to come to attention and salute. No wonder a lot of people did not like that guy. So, shortly after that, we had a bad storm and,  as I was trudging along behind my snow-blower on the way to the hospital, along came Colonel Big Shot. As his car decked out with flags signifying his rank approached, I did my thing and came to attention and gave him a salute. Unfortunately, the snow-blower had a mind of its own and suddenly veered and headed right for his car. His driver expertly managed to avoid being hit but not without a rather-skilled maneuver. Shortly after that incident, another order was passed down to us that we were not required to salute the colonel’s car if we were operating another piece of equipment. I made sure that all the other docs knew that I was responsible for the new order. I don’t have to look for trouble sometimes, it just finds me.

       Having survived the winter, we learned from Colonel Redmond that the Obstetrics service was going to close and future  patients were going to have to seek care elsewhere off base. That left Larry and I without a job and, soon after we each received orders to be transferred to other bases. Unfortunately he was going to Wright Patterson AFB in Dayton, Ohio, and I was going to Eglin AFB in Florida. Larry and I had such a good year together and I didn’t think I could be lucky enough to find someone like him in Florida. So there again fate set me off in a different direction and I reasoned that Florida couldn’t be too bad after the winter I had just been through. I didn’t have a clue where Eglin AFB was located, but the wing commander soon after called me to his office. Again 9 times out of 10 being called to the wing commander’s office was not a good thing, but I really couldn’t think of anything I had done wrong. The adventure with my wandering snow-blower had been months ago. Besides, if I had done something wrong, I figured he owed me one for taking care of his wife. As I was escorted into his office I did the correct military custom of coming to attention, giving him a salute while saying “Captain Ketelaar reporting as ordered sir.” With a smile he motioned for me to sit down and explained he had just found out I had been transferred to Eglin AFB. He then took out my military folder and said I had done such a good job in the military that he wanted to talk to me about staying in the Air Force. He said he was going to recommend me for a regular instead of a reserve officer commission. I was shocked I wasn’t there for bad news and that took me completely off guard. I would be offered a promotion to major and, if I wanted I would be sent to Flight Surgeons School. He had heard of my love for flying from J. C. and was putting on a great, albeit low-pressure, sales pitch. I explained to him that I had not finished my residency training, which he was surprised at, and that I had given my word to St. Vincent’s to return to the position it was holding for me when my military obligation was over. He asked me to seriously consider his offer because I was the kind of person that the military wanted and needed. I felt very honored, especially because it came from that fine gentleman. He then asked me if I knew anything about Eglin AFB. I replied “no sir just that it was in Florida.” He said one of his B-52’s was going down to Eglin tomorrow and he suggested that I go down to scope out the base and get acquainted with base housing. I was even more shocked that he was kind enough to offer that to me. Having taken care of his wife was paying off big time. I told him I would love to go but I would have to get Colonel Redmond’s permission. He then picked up the phone, spoke to the colonel and said “it’s all set, the flight leaves at 0900 tomorrow.” I thanked him very much for his kindness and the confidence he showed in me. As I left his office, he asked me one more time to consider his offer and get back to him. I spent many hours mulling over his offer but, again, everything came down to the fact that I had given St. Vincent’s my word that I would return. Although I do not regret going into private practice, I do at times think of what my life would have turned out to be if I had taken him up on his offer.

       The next day I woke up early and headed down to flight ops for my ride to Eglin. Again I got to ride in that beautiful bird and the pilot was a full colonel and the assistant wing commander. I was beginning to wonder if the pitch was going to continue with him, but he never mentioned a word about it. He did, however, let me sit in the co-pilot’s seat and gently guided me putting the big bird through a few turns. For a small single engine civilian pilot, that was like dying and going to heaven. After he made a beautiful landing at Eglin, a sergeant met me and took me on a tour of the base and then dropped me off at base housing. I felt like a real VIP to be getting all this attention. My transfer was a few months off, but I was shown a sample of the home I would be given. I thought to myself that it was such a nice change coming from the cold of upstate New York to the warmth and sunshine of Florida. Takeoff time back to Griffiss was scheduled for 1900 hours in a KC-135 tanker. That airplane is basically the military version of the Boeing 707 with only a few seats and filled with large fuel tanks. Again I was invited up front to observe the takeoff and our departure which the aircraft commander said would give me an excellent aerial view of the base. Eglin is situated on the Gulf of Mexico about an hour east of Pensicola, Florida. After takeoff I had the most beautiful aerial view of my future home. As I returned to Griffiss, I was a little reassured that it was probably going to be a good move after all. A few days later, after a lot of soul searching, I called Colonel Maxson and thanked him for the offer and the ride to Eglin, but said I felt committed to uphold my word to St. Vincent’s. He said he was disappointed but understood and told me the offer still stood if I changed my mind before I left the Air Force. I still feel bad that I had to turn down that gentleman’s offer.

       In the meantime my relationship with Kathy had gotten much more serious to the point that we began to discuss marriage. We still argue who proposed to whom but it’s immaterial. The fact is that we had decided to get married just before I was going to leave for Eglin. Shortly after Kathy’s mother passed away and everything seemed to be pointing towards pursuing our lives together. Fate sure seemed to have entwined our lives together and after a failed first marriage I considered myself so lucky to have found her. We began to finalize our wedding plans with help from Larry and his wife Lynn along with J. C. and his wife Dee. Those four people were most instrumental in helping us set the date and make all the arrangements. We decided because of timing to have a small private ceremony by a Justice of the Peace in Rome, New York , with a  reception at the Officer’s Club for 15-20 people. I believe the whole bill did not exceed more than $200, but it was most memorable. We had sent the wing commander and his wife an invitation and we were very pleased and honored  that they agreed to attend. It certainly added an air of distinction to the festivities having them there. J. C. and Dee helped Kathy get ready for the ceremony at their house and Larry and Lynn agreed to be our maid of honor and best man. Our closest friends at the time were there and that was all we could ask for. No big ceremony and tremendous expense, just a simple exchange of vows and a reception that began a wonderful life together for us. I wore my formal mess dress uniform  and so did all our military guests. At the end of the reception, our friends had placed a sign inside the fuel door of my car that said just married. We got smiles every time we filled the tank all the way to Florida. I discovered it there because in Florida there were no service attendants. Some of the nurses from the hospital also attached a bag full of plastic speculums to our rear bumper and I was told later on that they were finding them all over the base for weeks. Before we began our journey to Florida, we made stops in Rochester and New Jersey to see our families. And then we set off for our new life together on the beautiful Gulf of Mexico near Fort Walton Beach, Florida. 

                                         Eglin Air Force Base

       Eglin AFB is located near Fort Walton Beach in the Florida panhandle about an hour east of Pensacola. It is a beautiful spot on the Gulf of Mexico and the base borders a 20 mile strip of water called Choctahatchee Bay. Over the next year, we would spend many hours sailing on the bay. Eglin is the largest Air Force base in the world by land area and is also the home to a large community of retired personnel. A few years later it also became the retirement home to Colonel Maxson and his wife, our beloved wing commander from Griffiss. Another  blessing for my career was I would get to perform a lot of surgery with some exceptional surgeons. Eglin was mostly a Research and Development base, but it also was home to a tactical fighter squadron of F-4 Phantom jets. Again, my love of flying would enable me to get a few more rides in that airplane and others like the T-38 jet trainer.  That was a real plush assignment, especially with the Vietnam war still dragging on and we were fortunate to begin our lives together in such a beautiful setting. After a long drive from New Jersey, however, our first night on base proved to be most inhospitable. We reached the base in the mid afternoon and, after I processed in, we went to the base housing office to see what was available. Thanks to my earlier visit they had reserved a home for us. We were given the keys to a small two-bedroom home very close to the regional hospital. As night fell, we drove up and were very excited to enter our first home together. Little did we know that there was a reception committee waiting for us.  As I opened the front door to carry my wife across the threshold there was a tremendous rustling noise similar to the one at Sheppard AFB and, as I turned on the lights, we saw hundreds of those ugly palmetto bugs scurrying across the floor. Those little creatures are disgusting and I thought my new Yankee    wife was having a heart attack by the sound of her scream. Apparently no one had lived in the home for a while, having been reserved for us, so it hadn’t had any pest control treatments and those creatures were all over the place. We immediately left the house and headed for a motel for the next couple of nights while I made arrangements for the house to be fumigated. What a most inhospitable welcome to our first home. After a few days of me checking the place on a daily basis, I determined it was safe to assume that we now at least outnumbered the little devils. Our furniture also arrived from New York and we moved into our new home.

       Eglin AFB had a very large regional hospital on a par in size and number of beds to most large civilian hospitals. Retirees tended to gather around those regional hospitals as it offered them excellent medical care in return for the service they had given their country. Although it did not have the camaraderie of a SAC base and a small hospital like Griffiss, it was my first introduction to what I would call a moderate sized community hospital. Instead of two Ob/Gyns, we had eight plus a staff of midwives and nurse practitioners. The military was way ahead of the civilian community in terms of utilizing those ancillary personnel. They seemed capable and knew quite well if they were getting in over their heads and would often seek consultations from their supervising doctors. Again, the other Obstetricians were all fully trained except for myself and another doctor by the name of Willy. When I first arrived and saw the large Ob/Gyn staff I was afraid I was going to be put back into the general medical pool but I was lucky enough to remain on the Ob/Gyn staff for the entire next year.

       Once again I was obliged to report to the hospital commander. Unfortunately this time, as opposed to Colonel Redmond, we had a real loser. He was a board-certified psychiatrist who was also a stickler for all things military. As an example, he would literally hide at the back entrance to the hospital to observe if the doctors wore their caps when coming and going from the parking lot to the hospital. He also was known to have bad docs transferred to the base in Thule, Greenland, as punishment for breaches of military behavior. The old adage that it takes a nut to recognize one was certainly apropos of that ding dong. He single handedly convinced me that I had made the right decision not to stay in the military. If I had to work for someone like that for the rest of my career, I would have been in deep trouble. He was more concerned about how we looked and how we acted than what level of medical care we were providing. Consequently, the morale of the doctors in the hospital was very low compared to that of Griffiss. But despite a flaky leader, I was determined to get all I could out of my last year in the military. I also became convinced that he was in the minority of career military officers whom I found to be outstanding gentlemen and gentlewomen.

       The physician I was assigned to for my year at Eglin was Dr. Jeffrey Bennett. He was a Gyn-Oncologic surgeon and one of the best surgeons that I ever scrubbed in with. That meant he had special training above and beyond Gyn surgeons in the field of cancer surgery involving the female reproductive tract. This included surgical treatment for cancers of the vulva, vagina, uterus and ovaries. Jeff was extremely well trained but he had a few problems with authority figures. He was raised as a military brat and I guess that spawned his rebellion against it. Two short stories point out how Jeff and the military just didn’t get along. One night when Jeff was on call, he received a call from the ER about a patient with a vaginal infection. Well to any Gynecologist in or out of the military that is not considered an emergency, so he told the ER doctor to give her some cream, have her follow up with him in  the office and hung up. According to Jeff, five minutes later he received another phone call from the ER that the patient was very worried she had some serious illness and would not go home without being seen by a  Gynecologist. He again said he was not coming into the ER for a minor problem. To which the ER doctor replied “you don’t understand this is a general’s wife and he is ordering  you to come see her.” So, fuming, Jeff headed to the ER. He proceeded to do a detailed history and physical on the woman that I was told took almost an hour. He then ordered multiple lab tests which took another hour to get results. When everything was back and, of course, they were all normal, he called the general in to discuss his findings. “General based on my exam and multiple lab tests I can assure you your wife does not have cancer, a venereal disease, or any serious medical problem”. He then gave her samples of a cream to use. The patient was discharged from the ER around 4 a.m. having arrived at 11 p.m. the evening before. They obviously were furious and the general informed him that this would not be the end of this episode. Knowing Jeff, he probably laughed and headed for home. But it wasn’t over as far as Jeff was concerned either. He proceeded to call the patient at home at 6 a.m. probably as they were just going to sleep to see if the cream was helping her yet. Thule, Greenland, was too good a punishment for that episode. The general spoke to the hospital commander the very next day and I was with Jeff when the commander found him.  I am sure the commander had gotten chewed out by the general and, in the military, the expression goes that feces always flows downhill. He chewed Jeff out up one side and down the other as he kept trying to explain he was just doing a thorough job of excluding anything serious. The screaming, in public by the way, went on for the better part of a half hour and the commander finally told Jeff that his vacation leave for next week was cancelled and he was to be on call for the next two weeks straight. He also told him he was going to be transferred to another base as soon as possible. I thought he got off easy and I think the hospital commander, because of this and other episodes, was just tired of sparing with him. To my knowledge, Jeff was never transferred to another base but the commander was.

       The next incident involved the appearance of the shrubbery in front of Jeff’s house on base. He was a major and was entitled to a rather large home because of his rank. We were all clearly informed in writing when we received on base housing that all shrubbery was to be neatly maintained. Well, one day someone from base housing showed up at his house and proceeded to inform him that the bushes in front of his house were not trimmed back properly. So Jeff proceeded to back his pick-up truck to the bushes, threw a chain around all of them and pulled away taking every bush with him. He then returned and asked the base housing sergeant  “are they trimmed back enough now?” I wish I could have seen the expression on his  face as the bushes were ripped out of the ground. So Jeff was in trouble again but that time they had enough of his antics and he was sent out into the surrounding woods with some special forces people on a survival mission for a week. They had to get by living off of whatever they could find or catch for food and water. Unfortunately, while out in the woods, Jeff was hit by lightning one night, which gave him a mild but permanent weakness in his right hand for which he tried to sue the U. S. government. Whether that ever happened, I do not know but it finally was the end of Jeff’s illustrious military career.

       Most thought Jeff was a little crazy. In a way I would agree with that assessment, but the reality was he just couldn’t stand the military. Nevertheless he was an excellent surgeon and I learned an awful lot from him.  He made sure that I knew every possible complication that could occur during a hysterectomy and, more importantly, how to handle it. I also learned a lot about what not to do when it came to dealing with authority figures. There were times when I might have felt like I was in an insane asylum with his antics, but as I’ve said, he was probably the best surgeon I ever operated with. He was always nice to me and I can’t thank him enough for all that he taught me. In the end I felt very bad for him that his career in the military was so disruptive. Jeff went into private practice in the Miami area and he invited me down to meet some doctors there who were looking for a new partner. We kept in touch for several years exchanging Christmas cards and letters but eventually we lost all communications. I sure hope he was able to keep his temper under control because he was too talented a surgeon for patients who needed his expertise. In that area he was the best. But I am sure the hospital commander spent many sleepless nights dealing with and trying to figure out how to discipline that guy. I kind of enjoyed some of it because I couldn’t stand the commander either and, as a result, in his eyes all the rest of us looked pretty good.

       My wife had gotten a job as a nurse in the local Ft. Walton Beach Hospital off base. It was good pay and, because of her background and experience in neonatal intensive care, she was quickly offered the head nurse position only two years out of nursing school. Between the two of us   finally making a livable income  we decided to splurge and get a small 17 foot sailboat so we could enjoy the beautiful bay nearby. The base had a small marina where I kept the boat for $8 a month. We had a tremendous amount of fun with our boat and spent entire days sailing up and down the bay including Christmas day. Being away from both our families for the first year of our marriage was a real plus because it gave us some time and space to really get to know each other without interference from anyone. It was like one long glorious honeymoon and the location was just beautiful. I was told by many people to invest in property there but we didn’t for several reasons which we now regret. We visited it some 30 years later and it had grown and been developed tremendously from what it was in the ‘70s. Life was good and we were thoroughly enjoying the situation of our first year of marriage together.

       One of the biggest things that I had to get used to at Eglin was midwives. We had two very well-trained midwives to assist the doctors with deliveries. They both were excellent and knew when to call the doctors for help if things were not going right. I was a little uncomfortable at first, but they soon convinced me of their competence and, after that, it was a real pleasure working with them. They made our time on call so much easier and we all rapidly got to the point of trusting them to call us when they needed help. That was a good introduction for me because later on in my private practice we hired a nurse midwife and it made that transition so much easier for me. Some of my partners had a hard time relinquishing authority and, for them, it did not work out as well. Eventually because of that, and the increasing costs of malpractice insurance, we had to let her go. The malpractice insurance cost for them began to rise exponentially to the point that it was financially unprofitable to continue to use her. Another sad story in medicine as that woman had so much to offer our patients. She was excellent at providing the close physical and emotional support that some patients require and that the doctors just did not have the time to provide.

       I cannot leave my Eglin days behind without sharing a few more flying adventures. Once again, I managed to make some good contacts with several pilots. Because Eglin was a research and development base, many of the flights were not quite as available as they were at Griffiss. If something new was being done with an airplane that had never been done before, the commanders were reluctant to have a non-qualified pilot flying along. But I still managed to get a few rides in over the year  and, because of the beautiful surrounding areas, it was just magnificent to see it all from the air. One particularly memorable ride I had was with an exchange Navy pilot from Pensacola Naval Air Station. He was a Lieutenant Commander who had just returned from a tour of duty in Vietnam. Navy pilots are known for being cocky hot shots and that guy was no exception. They are used to landing their planes on a moving postage stamp in the middle of the ocean so the nice long runway at Eglin certainly was not a big challenge for him. Also the fact that for a change no one was trying to kill him also made him pretty relaxed too I’m sure. Well, one beautiful day I met up with him for a flight and from takeoff to landing I was convinced he was determined to make this Air Force doc sick. Later I learned my suspicions were true when an airman told me because the cockpit was not full of vomit when we returned he lost his bet with some Air Force pilots who knew me. He put our T-38 supersonic twin jet trainer through some of the wildest turns and maneuvers I had ever seen. I had a suspicion that he was going to try and do this so I deliberately had not eaten anything for 12 hours before the flight. Once he saw that I was not going to get sick the fun really began. “Okay doc, he said, the airplane’s all yours. My vantage point from the back seat was not real good, so I flipped the plane upside down and we went roaring down over the beach at about 5,000 feet. He sure didn’t expect that as he exclaimed “man, you got to tell me before you do something like that.” I replied that none of the Air Force pilots I’ve flown with ever complained and besides “now we’re even for the last 30 minutes you put me through.” He laughed and I continued to fly the airplane myself for at least another 20 minutes over the beautiful Gulf of Mexico. As our fuel began to run a little low, he took control back to show me a maneuver he used in Vietnam to attack missile launching sites. He made a low level pass over our suspected missile site then pulled straight up looking for a puff of smoke indicating a missile launch. Once he spotted it, he looped the plane over and dove down to bomb the site as the missile could not change direction so quickly and would go off harmlessly into the sky. Now that one came the closest to getting me sick. As we came in to land he put it down right on the numbers as I expected with sheer precision and with the thump he was used to on a carrier deck. My only regret was when he invited me to do a night carrier landing off of Pensacola, which I unfortunately couldn’t arrange. However, that was one of the most interesting rides I ever had in an airplane, period. And to top it off it cost him $100 because I didn’t get sick and he lost the bet.

       With about two months to go in my active duty tour, I was promoted to the temporary grade of major. As I arrived at my office that day, the entire O/Gyn Department was assembled outside my office for a ceremony. In the military it doesn’t take much to trigger a celebration and that was to be my day. There was a giant gold maple leaf on the door of my office signifying my new rank. The head of the department then pinned shiny new gold maple leaves on my uniform for the first time. It was quite a special event and one I will never forget. I was also entitled to a larger home on base but, for the short time I had left in the service, it was not worth the trouble of moving. Kathy and I planned our return to the New York City area and we made a couple of trips north to decide where I, excuse me, we would be living. Because we both had enough of big city life and, with Kathy expecting our first child, we decided to move into an apartment across the Hudson River in New Jersey. I did contact my old wing commander at Griffiss to inform him of my final decision to leave the military. I figured with how nice he had been to me I at least owed him that courtesy. He thanked me for the call, my service to our country and to the Air Force. He wished me well in civilian life and said he was sorry to see me leave, but that he understood my reasoning. So with some remorse we said goodbye to our military friends and looked forward to our move to New Jersey. I had a wonderful time in the military and met some outstanding people who make huge sacrifices for our country and we all owe them a tremendous debt of thanks. Without those people, we would not be able to enjoy the freedoms we have. May God bless them all for their sacrifices and I thank them for two of the best years of my life. I am so proud and honored to have had the chance to serve my country in the United States Air Force.

       So we packed our belongings and, as the movers took off with them, we hitched up our little sailboat and trailer and began the long ride up to New Jersey. We had settled on a one bedroom apartment in a unique circular building right on the cliffs next to the Hudson River. From our balcony on the 21st  floor we had a spectacular view of New York City from the 49th street marina to Battery Park. On the weekends we watched the giant ocean liners like the Queen Mary and the Rotterdam sail in and out of the harbor. We had managed to save some money to compensate for the fact that my salary as a resident went way down again. Kathy was able to get a job again as a nurse which really helped us out.  We also had a supplement from the GI Bill that I was entitled to which helped defray the costs of my further education. The view of New York City at night with all the lights was a spectacular sight after a long day at the hospital. As we settled into our beautiful new apartment, we also anxiously awaited the birth of our first child, Pieter.