The White Falcon - 04.12.1970, Blaðsíða 3

December 4, 1970
THE WHITE FALCON
Pave '3
I blows the
by CT2 Ed Eineke
I stepped out of the barracks yester-
day. . . and I was met by a gale.
It was just another working day, a
paper had to be put out, and I was my
unexcited self about getting up at seven
in the morning. But everything was nor-
mal except for something I caughton the
radio in those first groggy moments out
of dreamland, about a 60-knot gale? ?
What’s a 60-knot gale, my mind asked
briefly before it filed the words away in
its never-to-be-remembered file.
With that I stepped out of the bar-
racks. A wind caught my coat which
billowed to full sail and my collar tips
picked up a manic beat to the invisible
gusts playing an offbeat "Blowin’ in the
Wind" on my cheeks. Suddenly, with-
out time to release a plaintive ’no, ’ I
wind that profits nobody
was propelled along the ice ridden side-
walk by an invisible wall that slammed
me irtto the very visible wall of the bar-
racks.
Well, between walls I had no chance
or choice but to slide along the bar-
racks, and with something of a major
effort I made it around the corner, away
from the wind and my car which I had
planned to drive to work.
There was no doubt about it. No gale
was going to stop me. I ’was’ going to
get to my car and drive. Gathering my
wits and rubbing my cheeks where the
coat collar had placed its welts, I enter-
ed the barracks and walked its length
until I was at the other end. This put
me on the windward side of my car —
my immediate objective.
Know your enemy, someone once
said, right? I knew that the gale was
out there. I knew how strong it was
and I knew that if I ran hard at a right
angle to the wind that there was a good
chance of meeting the car...
Whoosh! I met the car. And with my
arms pinned between myself and a new-
ly dented door, one leg caught under
Yesterday vras a "hang onto
what you've got" day with the
30 to 60 knot gale winds that
unleashed themselves on the
naval station. The hat ca-
tching wind could not keep
base personnel from their
tasks though It proved Itself
unpleasant to most.
the front wheel, I turned politely to the
gale and cursed the black morning.
Finally, five minutes later I sat be-
hind the wheel of the car, on my way
to the AFRTS radio station. The wind
whistled in through the unclosed door
beside me — the door wouldn't close
(and still doesn't) after the wind smash-
ed it first against the fingers of my
right hand, then against the side of the
car.
Shortly I was at the station. I'd beat
the gale, I thought, until I opened the
sprung door. Instantly the wind ripped
the door from the car and sent it into
the side of the station with a crash. . .
That was too much! Giving up, I un-
buckled the seatbelt and bailed out.
Whoosh! Slam! I rolled into and through
the door to the station... I'd made it!
I'd beaten the GALE!
Photos by AN Robin E. Wagner