Living the American Dream: Military Service and Family Life 1955 - 1969

By Donald E. Hattin

In this final installment of a trilogy of books detailing the authors life,
Don Hattin recounts his exciting experiences while serving on active duty in the US Air Force. Detailing the adventures and challenges of his assignment at the Flight and All-Weather Testing facility atop Mt. Washington in New Hampshire, Don also recalls the pleasures of his growing young family who supported his service from a cozy farm house in North Conway, New Hampshire. We learn fascinating details of jet engine testing procedures, and share Don’s rapture with the glorious mountaintop environment surrounding him.
Upon completion of his Air Force tour of duty, Don returns to civilian life, and his job as Assistant Professor of Geology at Indiana University, sharing with the reader memories of his early years as an enthusiastic professor. Humorous descriptions of family vacations and geologic field trips recall a simpler time, when camping required no reservations, and hearty meals cost $1.00. Don shares his recollections of Bloomington Indiana as it was in the mid 1950s and early 60’s, and details his early teaching assignments, summer field trips and many close friendships of the era. The anecdotes of daily life with his young family capture Don’s abounding enthusiasm and energy.
Recounting the genesis of his long running marine geology field course in Big Pine Key Florida and his promotion to Full Professor in 1965, Don’s
memoire brings to life his very vibrant professional and personal life.
Culminating in 1969 with the details of a very exciting 9 month sabbatical spent teaching at the University of Reading England, Don brings the reader along for many happy episodes in his version of Living the American Dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728334097

Book preview

© 2019 Donald E. Hattin. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/25/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-3410-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-3411-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-3409-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1 Wright Air Development Center USAF

Chapter 2 Mt. Washington Icing Establishment

Chapter 3 Return To Civilian Life

Chapter 4 Resuming the Academic Lifestyle

Chapter 5 Reconnecting with Kansas

Chapter 6 1966 – A Banner Year

Chapter 7 1967 – Another Banner Year

Chapter 8 British Rambles

Chapter 9 European Adventures

Chapter 10 Last Hurrah In England

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Dedication

To Dad, in loving memory,

who intended to dedicate this book to his beloved Margie.

Sandy, Ron and Donna

Foreword

The manuscript for this book was nearly complete at the time of Dad’s sudden death in June of 2016. The stories to be told had all been selected, and the time-frame of the book had been determined. He had completed the text, selected the photos and their placement, and even chosen his title: Living the American Dream. With his usual passion for detail and in his best professorial manner, he was in the process of final editing, making certain he had chosen just the right word and obsessing over the placement of commas. Although there were many years of happiness that followed, these pages describe the exciting years of Dad’s Air Force service on Mt. Washington and our magical childhood years. Our childhood was indeed charmed: spending our summers in the Florida Keys, on camping trips out West, and the great excitement of a year spent living abroad, all orchestrated by our ever enthusiastic Dad, and supported by our loving and devoted Mum.

Dad was our mentor and guide, always showing us the way to a happy life. His certainly was. We are proud to share this installment of his life with you.

Sandy, Ron and Donna

Prologue

In late-April 1954, Dad accepted a teaching appointment as Assistant Professor of Geology at Indiana University (IU) in Bloomington. In May of 1954 at the University of Kansas (KU) in Lawerence he defended his dissertation. Then, after a summer of fieldwork in Wyoming, he, Mum, and 9-month old Sandy arrived in Bloomington and moved into a little house on North Bryan Street in the fall of 1954. During his first year of teaching at IU, Dad was called to active duty in the United States Air Force. The following excerpt from the final chapter from his previous book Pathway to a Professorship describes the receipt of his orders, the arrangements made with IU for his absence, and sets the stage for all the adventures to follow.

Active Duty, United States Air Force

Early in second semester, 1955, I conferred with Dr. Deiss about being called to active duty in the United States Air Force. No date had been set but entry into the service would be sometime during the summer. Deiss agreed to request from the dean a two-year military leave of absence. To my everlasting gratitude that request was granted. Apparently, my first-year performance at IU had encouraged Deiss to arrange the leave.

The Air Force had indicated that I would be called into active service in the near future so I wrote a letter explaining the need for some specific dates, suggesting an entry date of July 1, 1955 and a discharge date of June 30, 1957. These dates were accepted, and on April 27 I received an Air Force letter headed Entry to Active Military Service. This was accompanied by instructions for reporting to an Air Force installation, FBI agency, or police station near my home to be fingerprinted (for the second time) and to execute the enclosed DD Form 398, and forward these documents to the Air Force Records Center in Denver. Air Force Letter Orders 1703, dated April 20, 1955, specified that I was assigned to Headquarters, Wright Air Development Center, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio, and should report to Commander, organization assigned not later than 30 June, 1955. Perfect! I would be discharged on June 30, 1957, and have much of that summer available for field work.

At semester’s end I prepared for final exams, wrapped up other departmental affairs, and made arrangements for the move to Fairborn, Ohio. We had rented a plain but adequate house in a village of National Homes populated mainly by civilian and active duty Air Force personnel. A moving company, Dooley Transfer, was selected by the Air Force, transferring our household goods to Ohio with omission of our living room couch, which was delivered later. Just a few days before my reporting date, having bid farewell to numerous department and other IU friends, we departed for Fairborn. After reporting to the officer in charge of assignments, who had difficulty determining what to do with the holder of a PhD in geology, I was assigned to the Directorate of Flight and All-Weather testing.

And here is where Dad continues his story…

Chapter 1

Wright Air

Development Center

USAF

Directorate of Flight and All-Weather Testing

On April 20, 1955, orders arrived from Headquarters, Continental Air Command, specifying my entry on June 30 to active duty in the United States Air Force. Those orders included instructions for reporting to the Commander, Headquarters of Wright Air Development Center, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio. In civilian clothes I entered the appropriate office, gave a smart salute to the colonel in charge, and said, Lieutenant Hattin reporting for duty, sir. After reviewing some documents, he was at a loss regarding assignment of an officer who held a doctorate in geology. My original military occupation specialty had been changed from Transportation to Research and Development Staff Assistant. For lack of alternatives the colonel assigned me to the Directorate of Flight and All-Weather Testing. This unit was situated in Area C of the base in Fairborn where Margie and I set up housekeeping at 9 Diana Lane East. Also on June 30, I received a letter from the Air Force Reserve Records Center informing me that I was being considered for promotion.

Still in civvies I reported to a civilian executive who arranged for interviews with the head of each section of the directorate. Thus, I was able to choose with whom I would like to work! First stop was in a unit entitled Cockpit Standardization, of which Captain Richard Fernbaugh was leader. He explained that personnel in this section worked on all aspects of cockpit design and function so as to ensure that controls were in the most advantageous position, light and sound signals were clear and distinct, instruments were readily visible, etc. I also interviewed with Mr. Jackson, who headed the cold-weather testing unit, and also talked with two or three other section heads. One such unit involved use of digital computing which, in hindsight, would have been a useful choice, but I knew nothing of this new technology. From the outset, I liked Captain Fernbaugh, and decided that his attitude, intelligence, and projects promised a good degree of excitement. So, I ended up studying and researching problems concerned with safety and efficiency of equipment situated in or controlled from airplane cockpits.

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Margie & Sandy outside 9 Diana Lane, Wright Patterson AFB

Directorate command structure was unusual, with alternation of civilian and air force personnel. Captain Fernbaugh’s boss, Mr. E.T. Binckley, was a civilian, and his boss was Major Lane, and Lane’s boss was Mr. Gamble, to whom I had first reported on arrival in Area C. Gamble’s boss was a lieutenant colonel. Most, perhaps all, of these individuals held degrees in physics, and someone must have supposed a connection between physics and geology. In view of eventual assignments my choice could not have been better. Immediately, Fernbaugh took me under his wing, teaching me basic protocols, giving me a tour of the PX, guiding my selection of uniforms (two sets of khakis, campaign hat, blue garrison hat, class B blue uniform, and a class A dress uniform), and introducing me to other personnel under his command.

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Don in Summer dress uniform, Fairborn OH 1955

These included First Lieutenants Brown and Klobassa and an enlisted man named Bob. Mr. Ralph Hawn, a civilian supervised by Mr. Binckley, had a desk near mine; he was in charge of Air Force operations at an icing research facility on Mt. Washington, New Hampshire. On my fourth day of active duty I reported promptly at 8:00 a.m., wearing a regulation khaki uniform (tan pants, tan shirt with second lieutenant’s bars, blue tie, campaign hat, black shoes and black socks). At 10:00 a.m. we broke for coffee; I spilled a cupful all down my brand-new shirt and trousers. (Nice move, lieutenant!)

Within our first week of active duty all newly arrived second lieutenants, plus a Canadian lieutenant commander were taken on a tour of facilities in Area B (Wright Field). This activity required an entire day and was quite fascinating. Among other features we saw static test facilities for tires and landing gear, an almost totally soundproof room (eerie), and a pressure chamber in which groups of twelve were depressurized to the equivalent of 36,000 feet; the airplane service ceiling at that time. In the pressure chamber we were seated in pairs, each person being fitted with an oxygen mask. When the conditions of the simulated altitude were reached, one member of each pair took off his mask and began writing. Unconsciousness approached without warning, but as the writing became nonsensical each buddy replaced his partner’s mask. How strange to discover that one had nearly lost consciousness without any sensation of it. Also in area B, Captain Fernbaugh and I attended meetings pertaining to the minimum possible time for safe deployment of a parachute following ejection from an airplane cockpit. Transport to and from these meetings was in Fernbaugh’s recently purchased two-seater Austin Healy in which, during return from one such meeting, he raced along the highway at a speed exceeding 100 mph! Top down, no roll bars, no seat belts, and tires that long preceded advent of steel-belted radials. We probably wouldn’t have survived a blowout. Fernbaugh’s love of speed emanated from his experience with aircraft during WWII. In C-45s he had flown over the so-called hump in Burma, loaded with supplies for U.S. and Chinese troops. When we met in 1955 he was also qualified as pilot in B-47 medium bombers.

For me a special assignment concerned the effect of instrument-panel tilt on a standard turn-and-slip indicator. That indicator was designed for use on vertically oriented control panels, but an internal gyroscope caused an initially misleading reading when installed on the newer inclined control panels. This shortcoming was suspected as having caused some plane crashes during a fairly recent thunderstorm. I was instructed to design and carryout experiments with the instrument face mounted at 5°, 10°, and 15° from vertical when the airplane made a slow or a fast turn. The test instrument was mounted such that it could be tilted to these positions and was fitted with a metal slot into which a pilot could insert, one at a time, slender cards printed with the instrument angle and speed of a turn. A gunsight camera was used to film instrument responses; this was activated by use of the machine-gun trigger. We used an F-86D aircraft, and the sequence of tests was carried out by a team of pilots who made written comments about their observations of instrument behavior. I analyzed pilots comments and test films, writing up results for publication as an official Technical Report for the Wright Air Development Center. Learning that my report had been well written, Mr. Jackson gained Fernbaugh’s approval to have me edit a poorly written cold-weather report. That job done, Mr. Jackson asked if I would transfer to his section, but duty as an editor was not my idea of the best way for me to serve my country.

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F-86D Aircraft, Wright-Patterson AFB

While I was at Wright-Patterson, the opportunity to fly occurred only twice. Lieutenant Brown, who had shot down two MiGs in Korea, invited me to accompany him on a routine flight in a so-called T-bird jet. I had no clue that Fernbaugh had told Brownie to wring me out. He did just that, and our one-hour flight turned me pale and nearly ready to get sick. Shortly after landing I drove home, where Margie took one look at me and exclaimed, You’ve been flying!

My second flight was with Lieutenant Chuck Klobassa, who flew the plane to Cleveland, and on the return let me take the controls – big mistake! Over Cincinnati I banked the plane, circling over the area where Margie’s brother lived. Just as I spotted his house the plane commenced shaking in violent fashion. While circling the plane I had moved the stick slightly forward such that we were in a shallow dive, and the plane had reached its limiting speed of 595 mph. Chuck hollered, Pull it out! Fearing that in so doing I might cause the wings to shear off, I shouted for him to take over. He did so, and we flew safely back to the air base. That was my final ride in a USAF aircraft.

Life in area C was enlivened by three other events. A Russian MiG aircraft surrendered in Korea had ended up in our part of the base, and we needed to know whether or not such a craft could land on an aircraft carrier. On test day, a number of officers from our directorate lined up alongside the designated runway, ready to record landing distance of the MiG. An officer closest to the point of touchdown threw his cap onto the ground, and an officer nearest the stopping point did likewise. Distance between the two hats furnished the required information. I climbed onto the plane to look into the cockpit and was unsurprised