Military Officer - September 2007 - (Page 120)

encore Radar Foul On a foggy April night during World War II, some suspicious radar activity shakes up the evening for a vigilant young ofﬁcer — and the whole of downtown San Diego. I t was the spring of 1943, and the air war in Europe was in full swing. I was commissioned in the Army Air Corps Reserve in April 1942 and eventually assigned to a P-38 squadron stationed at North Island Naval Air Station, Calif., as a guest of the Navy, doing both training and coastal patrol. The 4th Air Force was assigned to establish an air defense command at San Diego, and a location was selected downtown. We built a plotting board that showed the outline of San Diego and the adjacent coast. Pilots from the P-38 squadron were given a week’s temporary duty at headquarters, serving as controllers of the P-38 ﬁghter aircraft. At the end of the ﬁrst week, I was sent back for a second week of tour. At the end of the second week, I learned I had been transferred to the San Diego Air Defense Command permanently, with a new job title of chief controller. With my new title came much more responsibility. As chief controller, I found myself in charge of not only the ﬁghter aircraft but also the barrage balloons, antiaircraft guns, smoke pots (which were at that time scattered throughout the city), and theoretically the ships in the harbor — a hefty assignment for a young and inexperienced ﬁrst lieutenant. One warm night in April 1943, the fog was sitting heavily on the city, patrols were walking the beaches, and our infant radar systems were busy continuously 120 MILITARY OFFICER SEPTEMBER 2007 sending in reports. Suddenly, ﬁve unidentiﬁed objects were spotted on the radar ﬂying just above sea level, approximately 12 miles from downtown San Diego and its myriad of aircraft factories. What was a young chief controller to do? Without delay, I put the entire city under a “brown out,” with either a green or orange ﬂag. I hesitated for only a moment before concluding I should waste no time increasing the urgency. Immediately I called for a red ﬂag — and total blackout of the city. There was a real sense of chaos; blaring sirens could be heard from miles around. Only then did I have our Army liason ofﬁcer contact the foot patrol in the area to see if they could identify the ﬂying objects. Within minutes the patrol ofﬁcer came back with a report: Five large pelicans had been spotted ﬂying toward San Diego. I have never been more embarrassed in my life. I immediately lifted the blackout I had issued, and things in the command went back to normal. As far as I was concerned, the incident was to be chalked up as experience gained. MO — John W. Etheredge is a retired Army Air Corps Reserve captain. He and his wife, Laverne, live in Trinity, Texas. ILLUSTRATION: ELWOOD SMITH

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of Military Officer - September 2007

Military Officer - September 2007 Contents From the Editor From the President Your Views MOAA Directory Rapid Fire Washington Scene Financial Forum Ask the Doctor Chapter Activities Plan for Your Future At Home in a High-Rise Lone Star Living Common Ground Insert: Community Source Cover Story: Waging War on Disease More Than Beaches MOAA Scholarship Donors Pages of History Faces of MOAA Information Exchange Advertising Index MOAA Calendar Sounding Taps MOAA Member Services Encore

Military Officer - September 2007

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